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I’m having a hard time getting and staying online lately, something to do with my phone service. Normal people call the phone company when this happens, I suppose. Me? I was glad to have the time to spin. (Yes, I will write. But right NOW is for spinning.)

Seriously, it’s getting to be addictive. I slept three hours in a total of sixty over the weekend, mostly because the four hour slot I was supposed to sleep on Saturday night (extra shift on Easter) was used up with fiber insomnia. What if I hold the wool like this? What if I adjusted the band just this way? What would it be like to spin alpaca? The question was raised why I just didn’t get up and spin a little while, and the answer was: I was too MAD about being awake. So I just kept my eyes squinched shut, willing myself to sleep, watching the wheel spin ’round in my head.

Is this how crazy starts? It might be.

Now, when I think of MDSW, I’m thinking about roving and combed top, not yarn and cute little sheepdogs (yes, we’re going! Woot!). (Also: When I think of MDSW, I think of what my friend Monica heard when I said it out loud: "Maryland Sheep and Wolf Festival." She was horrified. Let’s all call it that, shall we?)

And before I run back to the wheel (o lovely lovely wool), I must show you what I got over the weekend, in addition to the best homemade enchiladas ever.

I got some Cadbury Creme Eggs.

Forty-eight, to be exact. (Lala bought fifty-two, actually, but her brother got some along the way, as is right and good.) She just kept pulling them out of bags, and then more bags. Boxes and boxes of happiness. Sheer chocolate goodness. Come on over. I have plenty.

And in fact, I have the Last Egg in Oakland. We hit the stores yesterday, looking for sales, but all we could find was this one, which Lala found abandoned at the bottom of a cart full of scary sugary baskets.

Yes, that’s Koigu. No, I didn’t set up the purse to highlight the wool — if I had, I now realize it would have been good form to have moved the pad. Oh, wells.

Now. Back to spinning and eggs and the imminent but welcome sugar crash.

This makes me happy. Thanks to Quantum Tea for the link.

I’ve got some questions, yo. These are about spinning, so if your eyes glaze over, scroll to the bottom where I’ll post a picture of something. Not sure what yet. Oooh! A surprise! Even to me!

So: Dear Janine taught me the long-draw method, using the folded over bunch of staple-length fiber held like an egg in my hand. I’ve been doing it like this: Pulling out five or ten such little bundles and lining them up on the couch, grabbing them as I go. It works well, even though as yet I’m only able to make a consistent worsted-weight-thickness single. I can’t seem to go any lighter-weight than this, which kind of precludes any kind of plying, since with my gauge, I could never work with bulky weight yarn. I’d get 3 stitches per football field or something.

And somehow, even though this is quite silly, I have a yen to hold the whole mess of top in my lap and spin right off it. I see that the Yarn Harlot (let me just say that she is my hero. Yours too. I know) has a fab tutorial that somehow I missed because I wasn’t spinning and must have glazed right through, as you’re doing if you don’t spin. (I’m telling you, skip to the bottom.) Her method seems brilliant. And she explains it well: If you do it this way, you get good yarn. But but but… But. I’m whiny. That seems like so much WORK. But I’m planning on trying it. Maybe this afternoon. I should totally go for a run, but the wheel is sitting there, calling me with its siren songs, daring me to crash on the slubby rocks.

Okay, this: How do you spin? What’s your fave method? The more descriptive you are, the more I’ll gape in admiration and appreciation. Fave links? I’ve been to Joy of Handspinning, and I know I need to buy Spin Off mag (anyone in the Bay Area have any old copies they’d like to offload or lend?). What’s your favorite trick? In other words: HELP!

Thanks. So here you go:

(This actually means I leave this page and go to my picture file and decide which old photo to lay on you today, since I ain’t got nothin’ new.)

(I’m back. And you lucked out — I took it way back, to last May when I was back east.)

Tulips in Central Park:

Bethany in Central Park:

Em (in Rosedale), Cari, Sadie, and Diego. I *love* this shot. Alison was there in spirit that night, too.

And finally, me wigging out at the Happiest Place on Earth, MDSW:

Don’t forget to stock up on Cadbury Creme Eggs this weekend! And on Monday, when they go on sale! Unless you live in Oakland, of course. Then you’re totally not allowed to buy more than three. I’ve got needs.

Happy weekend!

You know when you’re thinking something, and you know it’s a bad thing, and you hope no one thinks the same thing, so you keep doing what you’re doing and keep hoping no one will notice? Yeah, you know what I mean. You just keep plugging along, thinking, Oh, hell. No. You’re wrong. No one will say that. I’m just crazy.

And then your coworker says, "That sweater makes me want a Big Mac. You gonna wear a Ronald McDonald red wig with that? Maybe you should go on down there and tell ’em you want a job." And later, when I was actually ON my way to McDonald’s, "Hey! You forgot your sweater! You could get a discount!"

I got all pissy. I called her names. I think I might have flipped her off. I acted like I hadn’t been thinking it all along.

And then I talked myself into thinking it was funny. Like it would endear me to the sweater. Won’t it be great to have a Fast Food Cardi? Everyone will want one. That is, they’ll want one when they come back from their food run that they suddenly had to make — they haven’t had a cheeseburger in years, but just sitting near me made the visions of 2-pickles-onions-lettuce dance in their heads.

Here it is. Camera phone shot, but believe me — this is the classic red/orange married with brilliant yellow of all your childhood happy-meal dreams.

I was gonna put more yellow around the vee-neck and the button bands, but I don’t think I can now. I tried it on and just stood there, thinking. I love red and yellow. I adore them together. But this….. Even if I did stick to my guns and finish it, every single time I put it on, I would think about Ronald. Every time I got out of the car, I would wonder if people thought I was on break from taking orders (not that there’s anything wrong with that, god forbid. I just don’t want something I make to look like a fast-food uniform). No matter what I tell myself, it’s just not going to happen.

I think I might rip the yellow out and add black rolled bands instead. Oooh! Or attached i-cord! Or white, as a summery contrast. Or hell, orange.

Sigh. Now I want a bacon-egg-n-cheese biscuit….

Oh, man. I was kinda kidding when I said that. But now I’m not.

Jen just made me very happy. Dancing Cadbury Creme  Eggs.

Can you believe it? It’s terrible. Awful. Seventeen days of vacay over, just like that. Bam. It’s a tragedy, surely. Why Lala hasn’t won the lottery yet is beyond me. It’s like she doesn’t even try. Y’all need to tell her to do better at picking those numbers, okay? A woman has needs, that’s all I’m saying. And those needs do NOT correspond to working midnight shift. They correspond to long lazy days with nothing to do but spin yarn and knit sweaters and eat chocolate and drink beer and go to movies and travel to exotic locations. And other things we won’t mention. Working all night, surely not.

So, yeah. She needs to get on it (winning the lottery, I mean! Quit it). But I will have you know that when I was sick last week, she brought me sushi and beer. That counts for a lot, people. Also, women give her their phone numbers on BART. And that’s hot. I’ve received unsolicited phone numbers before, but they were from men, and I’m sure none of them were from men I really ended up liking or I would remember that. Or maybe I wouldn’t, given my atrocious memory. So those last two sentences were a waste of your time. Sorry about that.

Also you should know that I’ve finally found a combination of things that my iron stomach does not like. Usually I have no trouble, none at all. But Taco Bell followed by three Cadbury Creme Eggs followed by an Indian dinner of sag paneer and bhindi masala and garlic naan — this makes for a very sorry Rachael. All better now, but I do not like tummy woes. I remember that. Next time I’ll only eat two Cadbury Creme Eggs.