I’ve been re-bit with the wool bug.  Now that I’m happily reunited with my wheel, one health I’ve got visions of finally converting last year’s corriedale fleece into the sweater I’ve been scheming and daydreaming about.  But it needs to have color!  And not just any color!  A sweater that starts from a raw fleece that is hand carded, meningitis hand spun, pills and hand knit, should be hand dyed with natural dyes.  Because that’s something I haven’t done yet!  I’ve seen so many lovely yarns made from strategically dyed and carded locks and bits of fleece that after much consideration, I’ve got to dye some of it before carding.  Goodness knows there’s enough there to play with.

So I got a book about natural dyes from the library.  While I was there, I also picked up some woodworking books.  Oh, and a copy of Mason Dixon Knitting because I’ve never taken a good hard look at it, but I don’t know that I’m interested enough to buy a copy.  To leave the library without a stack of books for the girlies would be unthinkable.  Sometimes I wonder what the librarian must think of my odd assortments that show up at the circulation desk.

Meanwhile the hallway sits unfinished, mocking me every time I go up the stairs.  And that’s sort of the problem.  There’s SO many things I want to do and learn and create and improve.  I want to dabble in all of them.  I bounce from obsession to obsession like a loon.  And there’s simply not enough time for all of that and working and cuddling and reading stories to little people who will be big too soon and having grown-up time with Mr. Unreserved and making sure the house doesn’t fall down around our ears. 

Lent is coming up.  I may have to give up sleeping.

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