What other explanation could there be? An illness, a bug I caught that caused me to act in a fashion unlike my usual, hard-headed, rational way. (cough)

I was looking at this cute, small little Elph camera, then was distracted by the professional glory of this Rebel SLR camera, went to meet both of them in person yesterday, and was introduced to this S2 camera–somewhere in between the two in terms of power, versatility, size, and price.. All three are on sale at amazon.com for the next two weeks (until the 22nd, I believe), and the prices are great. In fact, the Elph and the S2 together are cheaper than the Rebel would have been.

Can you perhaps see where the craziness comes in here? (sneeze)

Think, “twofer.”

Yes. I am insane. I bought both.

You’re going to say, why would I need two cameras? And well, I don’t, exactly, but the Elph is adorable and incredibly portable. I could keep it in my purse all the time for spur-of-the-moment shots. (And I’ll have a reason to make a cute little camera sock like Risa’s, which is even cuter in person.) And then, the other one, I can keep at home, most days, but which has all the versatility and settings and things to play with that my gadget-fidgeting heart could ask for. All for less than I would have spent if I’d gone for the Rebel, which was really way too much camera for me. I mean, it’s insane, sure, but it could have been worse. I even used three of my amazon.com certificates from using their Visa card, to lessen the blow. (sniffle)

Now–in your attempt to bring reason to a crazed person–you’re going to say, think of all the fiber you could have bought with that extra money!

  Yes, well, about that.

Some people have been waxing poetical about the joys of wool-combing lately. . . . Actually, let me interject here that I entirely understand how much fun the process can [theoretically] be and how rewarding, taking stinky, smelly wool and bringing it to a state of clean, fluffy loveliness. I really do. But I think that this process is not for me.

I pulled out my wool combs and my somewhat felted wool today and actually got two combs-full worth of sliver. (I’d call it roving, but that involves twist, and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how you add twist to something that long and fragile while rolling it into a ball. I’m sure it’s possible, it’s just a fault of mine for not being able to conceive of it.) I even spun it on my drop spindle–as you can see here. I’m actually surprised at the amount of singles I got from such a small amount of wool. And the bundle of fluffiness on the combs was impressive–reminded me of what my hair used to look like when I’d brush the curls out.

(And, in fact, you have, right there, a perfect example of why people with curly hair should not brush out their curls–you go from self-contained locks to wild and crazy individual hairs with triple the volume. And also, yes, I know, the picture I got from my current camera is just fine. Just . . .shush. There aren’t any colors there for it to mess up, and come on, it’s not a BAD camera!)

However. (You knew there was going to be one, right?) I don’t think this process is for me. Granted, my uncombed wool is a lumpy mess through my inexperienced handling. Nobody feels worse about this than I, and I’d like to send my apologies to the Gotland sheep that grew this wool. No doubt it would be a more enjoyable process if I hadn’t managed to mat so much of it together. And I probably should have kept the mesh bags o’wool off the floor so that Chappy wouldn’t have rolled on them every time he got into the guest room. And experience with the combs, the diz, and trying to twist it into roving would only help. All this, I know.

But . . . let me put it this way. I love to cook, and I love to cook from scratch. I like fresh ingredients, I like knowing exactly what’s going into my food and rarely use anything more processed than cans of chicken broth or tomato paste. I love baking from scratch. I don’t, however, mill my own flour, grow my own vegetables, or slaughter [shudder] my own meat. I trust professionals to do it right, and provide me with the best ingredients I need. And if it costs a little more that way, well, people have to make a living right?

I think I will not be taking any fiber-processing jobs away from anyone. I’m not saying I’ll never try this again, and I admit it was pretty satisfying turning that matted wool into the singles on that spindle. But–honestly–I didn’t enjoy spinning it as much as I do the commercial roving I’m used to. Nor are my singles as smooth as they usually are. (I didn’t like the spindle very much, either–way too much effort to spin.) Again, I’m sure that more experience in preparing the fiber would help that, but . . . I’d rather put my efforts into something else.

You know, like learning how to use my new cameras. (Achoo! . . . there goes that shutterbug again!)

Now . . . what do I do with the other 1.8 lbs or so of matted Gotland in the next room??

• Tags: General, Knitting/Spinning • Permalink:Shutterbugs are Contagious //