A Good Question

 This is not a news bulletin to the people I live with, but I do, in fact, talk to myself.
 And one of the questions I like to ask is 'What'll it be?'

It's kind of like a prompt.  I use it to get myself going. Moving. Off the fence and over to the other side. I find it a particularly good question when I'm writing my 'to do' list at the beginning of a day.

Between spinning, weaving and dyeing, there are always lots of  possibilities. So sometimes it really does feel  like I'm sitting down with a menu, (and a cup of coffee) - getting ready to place my order.

I'm pretty sure I could take this 'favorite diner' fantasy a lot further, but for now let's just say it includes an (admittedly stereotypical) image of  a waitress who is friendly, jovial and knows me well, but is, none the less, tapping her pen on the order pad, 'waiting' on me.  There's a certain no-nonsense quality about it (her?)- we're enjoying ourselves, but time is 'a wastin'. 

Anyway, - I use the question a lot - like when I've got new (or different) material to work with; a new yarn to try out on the loom, or a new fiber to spin.  Asking the question helps me begin imagining ways I might want to use or manipulate whatever it is. In this case, 'what'll it be?' has to do with what can it become?

New materials don't usually carry a lot of baggage for me, especially if I haven't read or seen anything that anyone else has done with them.  It's pretty easy to just spend time experimenting to see what happens - without expectations. 'Different' materials can be more of a challenge -  because I've probably already formed an opinion about what I think I know - maybe based on my experience with something similar - so if it doesn't turn out the way I'd expected.- the way I WANT it to be,-  that can get my knickers in a twist.

Different comes to me in many forms, but it recently showed up as a couple of skeins of yarn I'd dyed for a project (and then changed my mind about because once it dried, the color was really, really - different).

Different as in:- this is not what I wanted; I don't like it; it can't possibly work the way I wanted it to; I don't want to even try to use it the way I'd planned; I might not even be able to do anything with it at all, - ever;  it's absolutely wrong - a HUGE mistake and What was I thinking?

At which point 'different' pretty accurately describes my entire state of mind, not just my feelings toward the yarn  (and yes, I DO have feelings about yarn, -  people who don't are the ones with the problem).

 So this is where my question becomes particularly useful to me - because I've come to understand (although sometimes it's hard to remember) that IT'S NOT ABOUT THE YARN.  

 By asking myself  "Well, what'll it be?" - I can stop for a moment and take another look at the 'menu'.  The big menu. (the grown-ups' menu?) The all-encompassing 'this is' menu.  It turns out that the gum chewing, foot tapping, pencil in hand waitress in my mind serves as a reminder that whatever is on my plate - how I feel about it and what I decide to do with it - is up to me.  I'm the one who gets to choose.  Every time.  All the time. No exceptions.

If I don't like what I've got, it's up to me to choose something new.  At the very least I will have cleared away the expectations.

On the loom today

I've been intending to have a few more hand dyed, handspun cotton scarves ready for display and finally got this one started

Why I'm not at market

It's the Saturday before Mother's Day, and that means it's the first day of the summer market season for the Burlington Vermont Farmer's Market. But in spite of it the fact that this is the best (and currently only) place I've chosen to sell what I make, I opted not to be there today.  Instead,  I'm here at home engaged in something I call 'condiment' work - otherwise known as 'catch-up'.

It's a tough call ( literally - calling in to say I won't be at market causes me great consternation).   Most of my customers know that my being there depends on the weather. And while missing an opportunity to generate income can certainly have a negative impact on my business, the risk of damage to my product is an even greater concern.

It's sort of ironic that one of the reasons certain fibers and fabrics are so desirable is exactly why I choose not to put what I make 'out  there' when the weather is wet.  That's because the fibers I most enjoy working with - cashmere, cotton, silk and wool - are really good at absorbing moisture.

This characteristic can be appreciated by anyone who's worn a cotton or silk shirt and felt cool and dry on a hot humid day or someone who's been able to stay warm wearing a wool sweater even after getting soaked in the sleet or snow.

But it's not such a great thing when I need to find a way to get yards and yards of yarn and fabric thoroughly and completely dry after being exposed to high humidity.  Whether they've actually been rained on or not, the fibers become heavy and damp,  fabrics lose their shape and there is a very real potential for damage from mold and mildew after a day 'out' in wet weather.

So, to all the folks I didn't get a chance to greet today - I hope to see you soon.  The extra time I've been here at home instead of at market means I'll have another 'something'  finished and on display next week.

And just a reminder - if you're buying (or selling) wool by the pound, you might want to consider whether or not  the 'dry' weight is used for pricing.