I recently discovered Elizabeth Zimmermann. (By recently I mean about three months ago, I am just now able to afford two of her books, I didn't think I should mention it until now)
For a long time I avoided her. Partly due to the large cult like fallowing that surrounds her, and then I realized: They are talking about how much they love this woman for a reason, she might actually have something to teach me.
And look at that, she does, she is a knitting goddess, just like everyone says she is. Now, for the record, I only own Knitters Almanac and Knitting Without Tears but still, I can see myself owning all of them pretty soon.
It is because of this knitter par exelance, that I have on my basement landing a pot of yarn, cooling in a dye bath. Did I mention that this yarn was forty-eight hours ago a shawl, a nice one that I worked hard on. I fell in love with her seamless yoke sweater in Knitting Without Tears. I had to have this sweater, and none of the cotton that I had recycled would do (I unravel a lot of old sweaters in case you were wondering, I have one within arms reach of me right at this moment) this was a Zimmermann, so it must be made with wool.
I hunted around a little, but I came up with no wool that was A) the right weight or B) enough to make a sweater. So, because I was hell-bent to have this sweater, I started looking around for any thing that could be unraveled to get the yarn. After searching for several minutes, I found a shawl that I knit about a year ago when I was in the middle of hermit hell* It was large, and portions of it were chrochet so I thought that there should be enough of it. (Why did I say that, I will now run out in the middle of the second sleeve) So I pulled it out, and wound it up into skiens, Yes, you read me right, skiens. I usually just wind it into balls and call it a day, but no, this time I was doing it right. So I wound it into skiens, and started to wash the skiens. About mid-way through washing, I noticed that the color wasn't as dark as I would have liked it, so I made the bright idea to dye the yarn. I used coffee, and vinegar. I will let you know if it turns out, if it doesn't you will hear my anguished cries coming vaguely form the direction of northeast Ohio.
I'm off to go work on the novel a bit (gulp) I have to finish a scene where I have to kill of one of my favorite charecters. I'm so unsure of how to write it, that I am going to write two different chapters that tell the same story, and pick the one that I like the best. I will be sitting all alone, with tears pouring down my face (like they are now, dear God, how am I going to write this) chanting: "Fictious charecter, Fictious charecter."
I think that it will help if I just remember that all the great writers had to kill of charecters that they loved. Like L.M. Montgomery, (one of my favorite authors) do you think that she wanted Mathew to die, no, she didn't, but she knew that it was important to the plot of the story, it had to be done.
"Fictious charecter, Fictious charecter."
*Hermit Hell was a period last winter where I left the house about six times in three months. I am both glad that's over, and almost miss it a little, I go back and forth.