All your brain racking can end today! A flood of ideas will wash over you from the moment you wake up, and will buoy you through the entire day. New combinations, directions and questions occur to you -- all of which you should share with as many people as possible today. Besides being great conversation-starters, they'll show the world what an innovative, interesting person you are. Look for new ideas to swarm into your soon-to-be-blooming love life too!
I am still waiting for my flood of ideas.
Oh, Creative Flood, wherefore art thou?
Why hast thou forsaken me in my hour of need?
Alas, Flood, I knew him well!
Spinning at the Winery was this weekend. Janet went with me and knitted on her sock. At some point in the afternoon, she had to stop knitting as she was too relaxed. I did get to spin up the rest of the Jacob dark that I had, and now have just the light to do before the entire fleece is spun.
What will I do with it, you ask.
I shall lay out the beautiful skeins in the sun and admire their yarny splendor. Then they will age in my stash, before becoming something. Maybe a rug? Who knows? They are a big, erm, rugged for clothing I think.
At the winery, I purchased a fleece with Carolyn and sent it on its merry way with Shari of Morro Fleece Works. I did grab a handful to sample at home. (It has since been washed and rinsed and is now awaiting something. Donnowhat.) I also got an irresistible big fluffy bat of green deliciousness, which I proceeded to spin up into a ball of yarn, and looks to be destined for felty basketness. Let's see what else? A tube of Cross Patch Creations in bluish, and a mammoth tusk spindle whorl, that comes with multiple shafts, none of which fit the hole. The idea is that the whorl can be taken off of one spindle and put on another when the shaft fills up. I could mention this to Morgaine, and may at Lambtown, but plan to make some pretty shafts out of dowels from Rockler, in walnut and cherry.
Can I just say that Monday's at the bank are especially difficult after a wonderful creative weekend like this one? Something about the contrast between something I really love, and the things I do for money (that prostitution thing previously discussed), increasing beyond lifelike proportion just seems to make my believeable performance so much more difficult. I rather feel like I should be cracking gum, twirling a cheap purse filled with condoms and cocaine, and wearing fish net stockings this morning, but somehow don't think that the bank would appreciate the irony.
Ah, irony is always unappreciated by the pimps and financiers.
Photos are problematic at the moment. More later.