Better than salt money

Work like you were living in the early days of a better nation

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This and that

I realise I’ve let twitter become my everyday comments, and am therefore ending up making this, “serious”.  A retweet from @evilrooster reminded me this is not always the best of ways to look at things.

1:  It means the people who don’t follow my twitter don’t see what I say.

2: It means what I might want to say gets less said.

3: It means it’s harder for people to find the things I want to talk about.

4: I get lost.  I start to write large posts, and then don’t get them sorted until they seem pointless.

Work has been busy.  We have three people on vacation, and five quit; one of them the Store Manager (he got a better offer, and took it).  A beloved horse died; which was sad.  Everyone else was away from home for four days (not that I could really tell.  I worked eight days straight; through yesterday, and 18 of the past 21.  I’m getting pretty much full-time hours, but on a part-time schedule.  That’s what, “underemployment” looks like).

But all is not work.  I’ve gotten some spinning done (much while we watch Veronica Mars, which makes me think of Twin Peaks, without the supernatural aspects and a but more linearity of plot: The A-Plot is better framed, and the B-Plot carries the episode in a way that doesn’t leave one going, “Whuh?” about everything).  It’s not my best spinning: I grabbed the wrong fiber, and so it didn’t need to be as loose as I did it.  I plied it up yesterday (first use of my bulky flyer, it’s 6 oz of 2-ply) meant for crochet [spun s, plied z], and the tests I did while plying laid really softly on my hand.

I also got sent a package of fleece.  A rare breed, from New Zealand, Arapawa. That is because the internet is real life.  Some one saw me writing on about spinning and sent me a line asking if they could send me a fleece.  A rare fleece (… a rattlin’ fleece, from the flock down in the valley-oh! o/” ).  Now i want to get a drum carder, so I can see how it behaves.  First I need to scour the wool.  That sounded a lot more daunting six months ago, but I’ve been spinning more, and it seems more like breadmaking than floor-scrubbing (i.e. a little work, over a longer time, rather than a lot of work over a longer time).  The only thing I need is the detergent (as it seems the preferred home method has been made more difficult because dish-soap makers have added enzymes, which happen to attack the fibers, so I need to be sure my scouring soap is free of them).

But I am so chuffed.  It’s got such a nice smell, spicey, and earthy and cleanly acid; with a bit of heaviness.  Musky, I suppose, but not in the civet sort of way. It smells like happy sheep.

I’m also teaching people some basic swordplay.  Bought several new shinai, and am working with them on basic movement drills, and forms.  No one is in any sort of training to spar yet, but that will come soon enough.  They improve with speed.

Summer is fading, but the plants are still doing well.  Asparagus (what hasn’t been ripped out by someone/something) is thriving.  I should get to eat some next year.  I am worried about one of the blueberries, so there may not be any fruit on my present plants.  I’ll put in more.  I seem to have an olive from a cutting (though the transplant may have killed it, in which case I will be sad).  The dill is going to seed, and I have Calif. Poppies in seed, so the summer was a pretty good on in that regard.

The trick to blogging, of course, is to blog.