Just Get Me a Thriller Next Time

Apparently, I'm able to pass myself off as relatively uninconvenienced in the realm of the intellect, but next time, I need to pay a little more attention to the way I do things, specifically to my usual treadling speed.

So, my three lovely colourful bobbins which will become lovely yarn (pay attention and admire, as this is the best picture this blog entry):

It seemed that my daughter's favourite Hanukah 2006 present was Season One of Grey's Anatomy, bits and pieces of which I have occasionally watched in the interests of companionship and bonding with one's offspring, but we're talking a matter of minutes total, so in my weakened state, happy with the world, enjoying my creative mojo again, it seemed that Disc One (Episodes 1-5) would be more than sufficient to three-ply around twelve ounces of what currently looks like it's fingering weight, but after some severe abuse may end up close to dk weight.

You'd think.

But you've never seen me spin, have you?

They all laugh at me, my spinning friends, because my preferred whorl on my Schacht is the stupidly high speed one, or the ridiculously high speed or whatever it's called, ultra, super-duper, exceptional, something like that, because I treadle as though I'm about to pass out. To be sure, my favourite spinning is fairly fine yarn, so I do need a faster whorl but still, I treadle like a B movie actor walking in fake outer space.

And oh yeah, I'm plying this on my Lendrum, the one with the humungo plying head that rotates at parity with the drive wheel, even on the smallest whorl, or so it seems. Witness FIVE FULL EPISODES of Grey's Anatomy, a charming, fluffy, sweet show. Not All Plied. Not Even Close. Bobbins Barely Emptied.

I took a break to eat what used to be in here, because my strength was flagging (this was the last of the food we brought back from Oz in July. The Crunchies went really quickly):

And still, FIVE EPISODES LATER, I might be about halfway through. In my defence, it's very pretty yarn, though I can't figure out how to get the flash to cooperate.

The overall colour is pretty true, and I will eventually take a picture which proves I'm right, that those bobbins are perfect for each other, and luckily there are still four more episodes of season one, by which time I'd better be finished, and by which time I'll probably be addicted to the show, resulting in my issuing pathetic inter-library loan requests for Seasons Subsequent, however many there may be.

But I'll tell you this: I'll KNIT through the rest of Grey's Anatomy, and next time I decide to ply this much, this fine, I'm renting all the Halloween movies or something else that'll scare the crap out of me and make me treadle as though whatshisface is actually after me and not Jamie Lee Curtis.