More yarns

Know what this is?

I'll give you a hint. It goes around and around and it produces this:

Speaking of which, this just arrived in the mail in time for my next project. A project that has yet to be determined. But I saw this and had to have it. Resistance is futile when it comes to fibres.

Doesn't it remind you of a beach at dusk? The colour is officially called "Twilight" and it's the same Slubby Blue Leicester yarn from Fleece Artists I used for my last scarf.

So I'm thinking, in order to support my habit, I'm going to have to use this. (Boris can't figure out why it's outside. He's confused. But then he spied a piece of wool hanging down and jumped on it. Once. Then he got tired. He's not a very active cat anymore. If he were a piece of furniture, he'd be a Lazy Boy. Or a chaise longue. Or an overstuffed ottoman. Or a bean bag chair.)

I learned how to use it some many years ago. Then I stopped because I had umpteen children in five years. Then the umpteens grew up and needed me less (unless they want me to make them lasagna or one of my soups or they need a button sewn on) so I might take up spinning again, since yarn that someone else has spun and dyed is very expensive. My time is cheap. Bargain basement cheap.

It is a lovely little piece of equipment, innit? Don't look at the dust. Actually, that's not dust, that's patina. This spinning wheel is elderly (the date carved into the end is 1891) but it still works really well.

One might even call it the Jack Rabbit Johanssen of spinning wheels.

My sister bought this (below) for me at an auction last weekend (here's a photo she took with her phone.)

Who needs a niddy noddy when you can have your own weasel?

As in pop goes the.

It is used to gather spun yarn into skeins.

Now I have to hie myself to Toronto to pick it up. I don't mind. Staying with my sister is like staying at a fine hotel.

Make up the spare bed and throw in a batch of cookies woman 'cause I'm a comin' to pick up my weasel.