My Husband is Suspicious. . .

No picture yet of what I am making with my Magic Yarn Ball yarn because it just doesn't look like much (it will, eventually.) Work is progressing slowly because we had what amounted to a heatwave for us recently. I realize much of the country doesn't consider 80-90 degrees much of a heatwave-- heck, in Phoenix a few days of 80-90 degrees and people are so excited they walk around congratulating eachother on the nice cool weather--but we aren't used to that here. This may be because we have no airconditioning. At any rate, it makes working with wool a little sticky until things cool down at night.

As I mentioned, Rebecca sent me this wonderful ball of hand spun with the beautiful little slubs of silk and rayon in it. I've waved it at my husband several times and said something brilliant like "See! It's HAND SPUN! Rebecca MADE it! For ME!" He has dutifully examined and admired the ball. But he's also read a few knitting blogs and he knows about the seduction of spinning. Last night he asked the question, "Does this mean you are going to start spinning your own yarn, too?" Honestly, no, I don't want to start spinning. Spinning may start innocently enough with a charming hand-turned drop spindle in exotic wood and a bag of prewashed and carded roving--but I know where it can lead. Pretty soon it becomes buying whole fleeces from famous sheep. It involves washing (and I hate washing) and carding. (My husband doesn't want to know how much guitar stuff he could buy for what a drum carder costs.) There's the inevitable spinning wheel (see previous sentence and substitute spinning wheel for drum carder.) There would be fleeces to be stored. There would be washed fleece drying around the house. There would be the spinning wheel taking up precious floor space in the living room. The horror, the horror.

I told my husband "No, I don't feel a need to spin my own yarn." But I don't think he believes me.