I've managed to finish up Len's socks, which is a great weight off my mind because frankly, I was tired of looking at them. I don't know why, but I just really wanted to get those bad boys done.
Now I can get back to my Fair Isle sweater, but before that I wanted to get some spinning done this weekend. I'd bought some mohair, some fine merino, and some soy silk when I was in Phoenix the last time. I'm carding the mohair with the merino to make about a 50/50 blend, and it's so very, very soft. I'm hoping this is the right way to deal with spinning mohair, because clearly I've been spinning it the wrong way, which is to say as a 100% unblended fiber. It's so incredibly soft as roving, but the moment I spin it up, even when I'm conscious about not spinning too tightly, it feel so brittle and coarse. So I'm hoping that by blending it with the merino I'll get a cloudy, soft fiber. We'll see.
Like you, I'm tired of the whole Janet Jackson And Her Breasts Show, but this paragraph in a New York Times editorial
kind of made me chuckle:
There are plenty of Americans to laugh at, starting with the public itself. If we are to believe the general outcry, the nation's families were utterly blindsided by the Janet-Justin pas de deux while watching an entertainment akin to "Little Women." As Laura Bush put it, "Parents wouldn't know to turn their television off before that happened." They wouldn't? In the two-plus hours "before that happened," parents saw not only the commercials featuring a crotch-biting dog, a flatulent horse and a potty-mouthed child but also the number in which the crotch-grabbing Nelly successfully commanded a gaggle of cheerleaders to rip off their skirts. What signal were these poor, helpless adults waiting for before pulling their children away from the set? Apparently nothing short of a simulated rape would do.
I have to agree with the tone on that one.