This post is completely irrelevant.

So just stop reading now if you were hoping for something, oh, interesting.

OK, now that everyone else has clicked away and it's only you and me left, I shall now proceed to the completely irrelevant portion of the program.

Here are five things you may not have known about me:

1. I like yarn.

2. Yarn whispers to me. It tells me its deepest, darkest secrets.

3. I like yarn.

4. I like the color brown.

5. Me and yarn, we're like best friends because we spend all our time together.

Here are some things that I would do if I were a billionaire:

1. Create world peace through yarn.

2. End world hunger through yarn.

3. Buy tickets to the Olympics to watch Michael Phelps win his 8th gold medal in the 2008 Olympics. While I was there I would look around for some yarn. Maybe I would bring yarn to pass around or something.

4. Buy yarn.

5. Get lots of spa treatments that use some really soft yarn.

And that, my one friend, is how you write a completely irrelevant post, guaranteed to be 100% content free. And also how you use the word yarn ten times in one pointless, pointless post.

The creative process II

To be a good Yarnista, one must possess several characteristics in conjunction with each other. Take away one of them, and you have a giant mess of Jenga pieces.

You need Creativity. I wrote about her yesterday. But you also need resilience, an ability to work in the "zone," organization, a good memory, an eye for detail, and a willingness to help others. Creativity can live with you 24 hours a day, but if you don't have an eye for detail, Yarnista-ing (as my daughter calls it), is not for you.

But I digress.

Because Creativity is the fickle sort, she usually doesn't like to be made to do something on command. So, when I informed her that we needed to come up with a colorway for our September yarn clubs, she squealed in delight and clapped her hands. And then promptly exited the premises.


Creating a new colorway each month can be hit or miss. It's usually miss a few times, then hit. I can picture something in my mind's eye, it's usually sort of a fuzzy picture, but it's there. I have to then sharpen the picture by going through a variety of prototypes before having an a-HA moment when the final result has been achieved. Because my art medium is fiber, it's not easy to fix mistakes. There's no Edt > Undo command. You have to begin again. (And this is where the resilience kicks in.)

Often what I'm trying to refine may not be something someone else notices. This week, I was trying to tweak a shade of a color (sorry club members, no spoilers yet), let's call that color "white." I was trying to fix a shade of white so it had just a little bit more of a "black" undertone. But it needed to be subtle. The others in the studio kept saying, "What are you talking about, this is a fantastic shade of white!"

But I knew that when the yarn hit the heat to set the dye, that this particular shade of white was not going to look the way I wanted it to in the final result, it was going to be just a little too... something. Something I didn't want.

After the yarn came out of the dye pot, it was quite lovely. It was a harmonious palette, befitting the season without being cliche. I thought it might work as-is. But the more I marinated in it, the more I realized it just wasn't quite what I wanted. The colorway had to resonate with me on some level. (Because, while I want to make all of you happy, the only real way to do that is to make myself happy with the colorways. I think
-- I hope -- my customers can see some of the attention to detail I put into things.)

It literally feels like someone struggling to learn to play the guitar, plucking one note at a time. Those notes might sound just fine, but when the finished piece is just right, I can almost feel a full chord being struck in my chest, like a vibration, and I look at it and hear, "Yes."

So, to all of you club members impatiently waiting for your September previews, they are coming. I think I am on version eight of this colorway, and am tweaking a couple of little things, waiting to feel the chord and waiting to hear the yes.

I hope this is not to woo-woo for you. Creative people can often be perceived as... woo-woo. Perhaps I should stick with posts about my mishaps and pressing questions about eye drops.

The creative process

As anyone can tell you, anyone at all, Creativity cannot be turned on and off like a light switch. Small children can tell you this. Elderly Alzheimer's patients can tell you this. And now, I will tell you.

Creativity cannot be turned on and off like a light switch. Or any kind of switch, for that matter. Not like a press-button on your blender,  not like a dial knob, not like the electronic key pad on your microwave.

I've discovered that Creativity does not like The Deadline. In my universe, The Deadline is like a Ringwraith from Lord of the Rings.



Creativity is the timid pixie who flies away and locks herself in her room as soon as she hears The Deadline approaching.



Let's see, The Deadline vs. Creativity... who do you think usually wins?



Toughie.

As bewitching as Creativity is, she's no match for the evil force of The Deadline.

She comes out when she feels like it, she stays as long as she likes, and she only hangs around certain people. You have to be open to having her visit. You have to like having her around. Most importantly, you have to DO stuff with her. If you ignore her when she knocks on your door, she won't come back for a long, long time. The nicer you are to her, the more attention you lavish on her, the more she likes to stay for tea.

Sometimes, she disappears inexplicably and no amount of coaxing will change her mind. She'll show up when you least expect her to. (Likely, at the most inconvenient time. The middle of the night, perhaps.)

Creativity, here she is again, , once came to see me at 4:00 am on Christmas morning.

She wanted to encourage me to roll out a giant swath of paper on the floor of my 400 square foot apartment and handpaint some gift wrap.

"Butbutbut," I protested, "I already purchased gift wrap and have already wrapped the gifts with it. I spent a lot of money on wired ribbon and everything."

(Back story: I was in college. In college living in a 400 square foot apartment. Attending college while working two jobs to pay for the tiny apartment. I got the giant roll of paper for free from one of the jobs I worked while trying to pay for college.)

"Fine," said Creativity. "But you know you want to. Of course, it's your decision, but you do have those paints over there... and the gifts would really look SO delightful wrapped in handpainted paper under the Christmas tree while everyone sips hot cocoa and the carols are playing and the candles are glowing. Too bad you don't feel like it..."

What do you think I did?

I'll give you four and a half seconds to think about it.

Of course. I painted the paper. Of course I did. Creativity is extremely compelling when she wants to be. And also, I am weak.

Perhaps I should revisit this topic after you have removed your contacts and your eyes aren't feeling quite so dry from reading excessively long posts on a computer screen. Perhaps a little



would help? I see from looking at this picture that Visine has trademarked the phrase "Gets The Red Out."

Isn't that fascinating?

Don't you care deeply about things like this?

The other day, I bored some people I had just met to tears. TO TEARS. (Actually, maybe they were fake Visine tears.) The pressing question of the day was, "Why does prime time TV start at 8:00 pm on the coasts of the US, but at 7:00 pm in the center of the US?"

The things that keep me up at night. Hand painting wrapping paper and the timing of prime time TV.

I will definitely come back to Creativity. Possibly tomorrow. I have much more to say, but I think we've had all the bad analogies and unimportant questions we can handle for one afternoon.

Keep reading about creativity here. 

The hair debacle.

I have just a wee bit of a problem.

Well, I have many problems. But let's focus on this one small problem.

And by small, I mean small in physical size, not small in impact.

I have blonde hair. Dark blonde. With lighter blonde pieces and some reddish pieces.


REEEEALLY not the best picture. But can you see my hair color over on the side there? The right side of the picture? Right there?



Everyone on the same page here?

The debacle happened yesterday.

Yesterday, I...

One moment while I compose myself.

Yesterday I knocked a bottle of black dye off the counter and splashed it in my hair.

Unfortunately, I am not kidding. Not kidding at all.

I was being clumsy, knocked it over, and then during my muttering about "cotton pickin'' this and "dadgum it" that, additional black dye dripped off of the edge of the sink and into my hair while I was wiping the floor.

Let me just make the badness of the situation apparent: this was black acid dye (designed for protein fibers. Fibers that come from animals.), with the acid already added. It fell onto my hair. My hair is a protein fiber. Because just like you, I am an animal.

I don't know how long it will take to wash out. Fortunately, it is not a huge quantity of black. Unfortunately, my hair was light to begin with so it's more noticeable. Fortunately, I did not immediately rush home and put my hair under a blow dryer to heat set the dye. Unfortunately, I SPILLED BLACK DYE IN MY BLONDE HAIR. Fortunately, I am six feet tall and maybe no one will notice because they can't see that high. Maybe. If I'm lucky. Which I'm not.

So, on your worst day, ask yourself, "Is this as bad as spilling permanent black dye in my blonde hair?" Chances are good it won't be.

Gratuitous yarn shot.

Just sharing some yarn that was dyed for a great customer. It's purrrty. Black, purple, teal, aqua, and pale tangerine. This is really a seasonless colorway, and I hope she likes it.







Remind me to tell you tomorrow about my hair.