Knitting For Sanity

The chaos in my house continues unabated. This is day 45 (by my count) of the Great Flood of 2011. (Note: the name is ironic. For the amount of inconvenience it has caused, the bathroom leak really deserves a more dramatic name.)

Once again--as for most of the past month and a half--there are noisy things happening in my house. Today it is a plumber and a drywaller. I had thought the drywalling ordeal was over last week, at least downstairs, after the four days the drywaller spent putting my ceiling and walls back up, texturing everything, and painting the living room and dining room. Then yesterday the plumber came to put in a new bathtub, and that's where things started going sideways. He spent most of the day trying to get the drain to install correctly. When that didn't work, he said he would need to cut a hole in the freshly repaired ceiling to access the drain. So he showed up this morning with the drywaller, cut a hole in the ceiling...and couldn't make the drain work. After a couple more hours, he went out to buy a different drain. In the meantime, the drywaller is twiddling his thumbs, waiting to close up the ceiling. From the sounds in the next room, that is not happening anytime soon.

The drywaller also needs to put up drywall and paint the bathroom, but of course, he can't do that until the tub is in and the new pipes and faucets installed. Again, not happening anytime soon. Since the tile guy is supposed to be here Monday, the drywaller wants to come back tomorrow (Saturday) to finish the walls. There goes my weekend.

Worse yet, I haven't been able to get a tree or decorate for Christmas, or, heck, see the damned floor, and I'm getting really, really antsy about it. Every time I think we're making progress, another monkey wrench gets tossed into the mix. I detest chaos and clutter under any conditions, and being trapped in a house full of it for an extended period is making me more than a little crazy. I am so not cut out for remodeling.

So I've been playing with yarn. A lot. I wove a shawl out of Noro Silk Garden Sock, finished Snowbird, and cast on Tinder. But at the moment, I need the sort of comfort that can only come from gorgeous, squishy yarn and enormous amounts of plain knitting. I cast on this:

This is Malabrigo in Stonechat, and I have a lot of it. I bought it in a destash months ago, planning to make a sofa throw. The time has come. This will be a log cabin pattern, only super large scale. Each log is 12 inches wide, and the final throw will be a single giant block. All garter, size 8 needles. It doesn't get any more comforting than that.

Knitting, take me away! (Bonus points if you can name the reference.)

Epiphany

I now know why people weave.

I wove this yesterday:

This is a 9" wide scarf, 8 feet long. And it took me--a brand new weaver--one day.

That includes the warping, the weaving, and the braiding of the fringe.

I used an ugly yarn I was never going to knit, but I think I like how it looks woven. Close up, you can see all the different colors, but from a bit of a distance, it just looks like tweed.

I haven't "wet finished" it yet, mostly because I'm not sure exactly how. From what I understand, wet finishing is the weaving equivalent of wet blocking, except it's more vigorous. The goal is to "full" the fabric to get the fibers to lock together and blend into a unified fabric--so essentially a mild felting. It seems the usual way to do this is to throw it in the washing machine, but I think I'll try it by hand first. After all, it may not be beautiful, but it is my first project, and I'd rather not ruin it right off the bat.

I would totally warp for a new project right now, but my entire stash is currently bagged up and sealed in boxes, so it will have to wait until my house gets put back together. Or until I lose patience and rip into the boxes. Any guesses which will come first?

Funny...

...that doesn't look like a floor loom.

The chaos in my house continues, and I'm going to blame that.

This is an Ashford rigid heddle loom (24"). I bought it today from a local fiber friend who teaches spinning and weaving. She gave me a free, 2-hour private lesson, and taught me about floor looms at the same time.

Ignore the ugly yarn. It was the result of an ill-advised online purchase several years ago. I'm using it for my first weaving project because it was in the "get rid of" box, which is the only part of my stash I can currently access, due to the ongoing decontamination of my yarn room. Looking at this yarn makes my head hurt and makes me feel like I might have a seizure if I look at it too long. Interestingly, it is much less offensive in its woven state that either in the ball or knitted, which makes me wonder if some of my uglier stash yarn might have a new life as weaving yarn.

The rehab of Sabina the Floor Loom continues, with major effort concentrating on rust removal. I've almost got her in useable condition, but until I get my knitting room back, I have nowhere to set her up...and I guess I'm even less patient than I thought.

Um...Now What?

My house remains a minor disaster area. In addition to the industrial de-humidifiers running night and day, we now have soggy drywall and broken tile adding to the ambiance, and a steady drip into a bucket that was not all that alarming until the restoration guys who came by last night advised us to shut off the water to the house to prevent the pipe from bursting while we were sleeping. We decided this was good advice and did as they said. The insurance company still hasn't told us whether they're paying for the damage, but at this point, it's almost moot. They will cover whatever damage is done in finding the problem, even if they later don't approve the claim, which means they have to pay to put everything back together. In this case, that means they essentially have to repair everything anyway.

And I have found a new way to distract myself from the chaos. I picked this up last night (craigslist, $120):

It is marked "Sabina folding loom," made by Loom Craft Studios, Wilmington, Ohio. It came folded up--nice, as it is only about 18 inches deep when folded, meaning it can be stored against a wall without taking up much room. With the aid of some photos printed off Ravelry and the help of my engineer-husband, I got it unfolded this morning.

From the little information I could find online, these were made between 1939 and 1949. They came in at least three different sizes. Mine appears to have a 33" weaving width, judging from what I think are the reeds.

That would be these, I believe. If I'm wrong, someone please tell me. As you can see, there are three of them, and unless I am more confused than I think I am, these go into the beater bar to...uh...pack the weft together (I'm sure there's a technical term for that) as you weave. They are rusty, but don't appear rough or pitted, so I think I can clean them up and use them.

I think these are treadles (this is the back of the loom), and there are six of them, but two are missing the chains that attach them to the things they lift up and down. I think those are the heddles? (Can you tell I know nothing at all about weaving? I ordered a book but it won't be here for a couple of days.)

I mean these things:

The ones with the cords attached on the right side of picture. They lift up when I push on the treadles. What I don't understand (well, among many other things) is why there are only four of them when there are six of the treadles. Anyone know?

The loom appears to be complete, and seems to be in pretty good shape. There isn't anything broken and the wood is solid cherry and appears sound. The hardware is a bit rusty, but still functional.

There is a broken peg on whatever this thing is, but it looks easy enough to replace; it's basically just a dowel with a rounded end.

I'm a little concerned about this part. It came with the loom, but I don't know what it is or where it goes. It is the same length as the reeds, so I suspect it has something to do with them, but it is not obvious to me what it is for.

I'm not at all sure what I am going to do with this. It needs cleaning, which I'm sure I can handle. Beyond that, I'm pretty lost. I've tried to find a manual, but without success. I'm hoping the "Learning to Weave" book I bought will give me enough information that I can figure out how to use it. I do know some weavers in the area, so I have a back up plan in place, and an offer from one of them to come help me warp it the first time. She says that's a full-day operation.

Maybe I should have started with a lap loom.