Spinning Friday: More Singles

Before I get to the spinning, I want to tell y'all a little story.  When I was a kid, my folks had this piece of furniture that they called a bilgray.  It looked sort of like a breakfront - the top had glass-paned doors and inside were wooden shelves, where you could look in and see what was stored. Below were drawers, where you could store linens or such, although my dad almost always had it in his den/office, and used it to store his miniature war-gaming figurines and paint supplies.  The thing was a beast, between the all-wooden construction and the glass panes, and we moved a LOT, so this piece was schelpped up and down stairs with a lot of cursing and muttering.  (My folks still own this piece, I believe).

Anyhoo, fast-forward to college, where I went to William and Mary, took several classes in colonial decorative arts, even interned for a semester at Colonial Williamsburg in the decorative arts department, where there were a lot of furniture pieces that looked a LOT like the reproduction piece my folks had.  One day, unable to locate that name in any of my textbooks or references, I asked my folks about the piece.  OH!, says my mum, your father had a roommate when we met, and when he moved out, we inherited a lot of his furniture for our first apartment after we got married.  The dude's name?  Bill Gray.

Uh huh.  For 19-odd years, it had never occurred to me to question why the hell we were calling a breakfront a bilgray.  I am not always the swiftest when it comes to having the Ah-Ha moment, am I?

Oddly enough, this relates to my 8 ounces of singles.  You remember I have 4 ounces of 2 colorways?  And that I split each 4 ounces into 2-ounce increments?  I have no idea why I did this.  Other than random, seemed-like-a-good-idea thinking.  Only it's really not, since my Saxony bobbins will each hold 4 ounces of singles.

This dimly-lit picture is 3+ ounces of the Sweet Rain colorway.  So I am going along, continuing on my singles here until I fill up this bobbin with the 4 ounces of roving.  No plying this week - maybe I'll get there by next week's post. Or not.

Seriously... I sometimes wonder about myself......

All for now.
 

Comments

[Laurie]

This post should come with a "spritz alert". Still chuckling to myself...sounds like something my family would do. Thanks for making my day! :-)

[margene]

It makes me happy (in a conspiratorial way) what people admit to brainfarts. I do not want to be alone in my 'goofy, wtf am I doing' life.
Your spinning will be lovely in any case.

[Marji]

And here I thought I was the only one who didn't bother to question things and then felt the fool! Thanks for the story. You are NOT alone.

[Cheryl S.]

Great story. Though when I first started reading it, I thought you were going to say that D made a replica for you.

[Marcia]

That's a good one! (Did not realize you went to W&M!) As for your spinning exploits, there might be a very good reason to split your singles, especially if you are a student of Judith MacKenzie. When you go to ply, you can get a more even yarn, theoretically, by mixing and matching the bobbins. Unless, of course, you only have two bobbins....! Have a happy Fourth!

[Christina Scovel]

The singles look lovely! I'm sure they will be stunning once you finish. When I was a kid I grew up with Jockey Box (which is what my family called a glove box). I never knew it was a glove box until I got into a yelling match with a roommate when she wouldn't open the darn Jockey Box.

[Toby]

That's pretty darn funny. Sometimes I think our mind is preoccupied with more important things.

[Kristi aka FiberFool]

I love your story! I can't think of any specific stories along those lines for our family, but I'm pretty sure they exist!

Spinning.... *sigh* A dream in the very distant future...

[Avivah]

wow, that made my day! here's something to make you feel better... my grandparents always lived in a town called Boonville. I really thought that was the name of the town - I even addressed letters to Boonville. Then I found out that was what my father called it because he was from NYC and grandparents were from the Boonies. They actually lived in Old Forge, and the mail always got to them.

[Cathy]

Nice story - and totally makes sense to. Here's to Bill Gray whereever he is!