Cummington represented two hours of driving, copious fiber possibilities, immersion in the bonhomie of my people, and modest marination at Cate's blegger. It was as good as you can imagine.
Just Our Yarn tempted with tencel, patterns, and silk top. Purchases were great good fun, but secondary to what we were looking for in our fiber lives. There was time to talk, shop together, and swap lies. My heart was happy.
I did score one unusual coup. I'm not a weaver, but I did recognize a whole slew of LeClerc storage bobbins resting forlornly on an unkempt bobbin rack. I nonchalantly ambled over to the rack, and could not believe my luck. FIFTY bobbins. (The retail price has recently increased to $3.50 each.) With storage rack included, the price marked on the top was $30.
Sadly blogless Manise rescued my purchase with her minivan. Do you know how the lights go on in your brain when you see something that you had not previously imagined? And you realize instantly that it will solve a problem you had barely begun to articulate? This rack will be perfect small footprint storage for my unplyed spinning output.
The bobbins were easy to wash. A bottle brush ($2.49) was the perfect instrument to ream out the center hole of each bobbin. You don't want to know what came out of some of those holes. I quickly transitioned from bare hands washing to rubber gloves. The frame will be TSP'd, then Liquid G0ld rubbed.
Oh! The fiber? Yes. Just Our Yarn tencel laceweight (Aziza). Botanical Shades (no link) sold this lovely bump of naturally dyed Coopworth (cochineal, madder, logwood purple, osage). Manise was completely responsible for enabling this. I suspect she had not forgiven me for enabling HER into a Cormo fleece from Foxhill Farm (no link). Wouldn't you have thought she would consider it quid pro quo when I agreed to split the fleece with her? I clearly have met my enabling match.
Cate's living room collected a sorority of wheels: Alden Amos, Norm Hall, Robin, Louet, Reeves Frame, Lendrum, Kromski Victoria, and others. A roomful of knitters had no idea how to tap a keg. Cate and I enacted a Three Stooges routine, and did the deed. Foam.
I called the 800 number on the side of the keg. "Hello? There's a bunch of middle-aged knitters here who rented a keg from you folks. Can you tell me what the black handle does? And how do we get rid of the foam? Oh. Pressurize less vigorously, and let it settle? Thanks! Bye!"
My thanks to all who made it such a wonderful weekend. Kudos to Mamacate, whose boundless hospitality made it possible.