My new spinning wheel came in, and it is a beast. A seriously solid piece of machinery. And yes - it does fit into the 12" x 8" box when it's folded.
This the big sister to my wee Nano.
I will never stop being charmed by my little one, but it's a bit limited as to what it can spin (only fine yarns). The new one is much more powerful and versatile, but I got it mainly for one thing - plying. When you take two or more strands and twist them together. Spinning you can do in bits and pieces over time, but when it's time to ply, you're sort of tied to it until your finished. The Nano isn't strong enough to ply, so I use one of my treadle wheels. The problem is my tendency for fine yarns, which take a lot of twist, so I'll be stuck there, treadling as fast as I can, for at least an hour, or an hour and a half. Spinning is meditative, with the pleasure of the feel of the fibers slipping through your fingers. Plying is simply tedious. But the new Beast has a speedometer, and can hit 2000 rpm, so turn it on and let it rip -20 minutes later, job done.
It does seem like a bit of an extravagance, getting a new wheel mostly for one job, but it occurred to me that I got the Nano some eight years ago, and I don't think I've bought a new spinning tool since then (fiber, yes, but no tools).
That made me think about something else we used to get on a regular basis, but I haven't in eight years: Cats.
I was originally the cat person. I had one when I was a kid, but he was killed by a car when he was about four and my Dad didn't like cats and never let me have another one. I always thought about the day that I would grow up and be able to have a cat. Then Bob thought he didn't like cats and didn't want one - until about two years into our marriage (our first apartment didn't allow pets). I was looking at kittens in a pet store one day, and thinking - as I had for the last 10 years or so - "someday when I grow up .. ." That evening I told Bob we were getting a kitten, and that weekend we went to a cat rescue and got little Algernon. And Bob was smitten.
Other kittens followed. Ptarmigan, running away from kids (who were trying to help her) and hid under a bush in the snow, but came out to Bob's warm hands (and into his shirt and heart). Cheechako, who Bob saw at the edge of some woods when he was driving home from work. Cats picked up on campus. Cats who just showed up in our yard (Pookha, Apache, Nazgul, Hamish). Most of the time we kept the balance at six- but eventually seven, then we got Della's three cats after Hurricane Michael, and another cat just showed up (but we found him a home).
Hamish showed up in January 2018 and wouldn't take no for an answer. We got Della's cats in October of that year.
And that's been it. No new cats in eight years. Partly that's choice- I could get all the kittens that I want, but I've made the decision not to because cats can live 20 years and I don't know if I'll be around that long. But no cats just showing up and deciding that they're mine. There have been two. One was right after Bob died - a young coal black one that I, with little imagination, called Midnight, because of his color, and the odd fact that I only saw him if I ever stepped outside at midnight. He was very friendly, but not interested in food, and I never saw him except at midnight. There was a tuxedo cat that I saw in the barn from time to time, but he'd take off if he saw me. I put out food for awhile, but only raccoons got it. I only saw him a few times.
In all the years we were together, I never fully realized that the person who attracted the cats was Bob, not me.
Odd experience yesterday. I had a meeting with my financial advisor. As I was leaving, we were talking about how unhelpful "help" desks were. And he mentioned that often you end up talking with someone in the Philippines. I exclaimed that the Philippines were the best - they really want to try to help, and they never put you on hold and then disappear. "And when my husband was alive, I'd hand the phone over to him - he used to live in the Philippines and they would talk like homies."
I had a weird disconnect - the outer me was glibly making this statement. At the same time, my inner lonely wolf was pointing her nose to the sky and howling in pain.
On a more exciting note, I saw a gopher tortoise in the yard yesterday. I suspected that I had one, because I spotted the characteristic dome-shaped burrow. Gophers are just on the cusp between threatened and endangered, so I'm happy that this one has found a safe place to live. I hope it sticks around.
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