I’ve discussed before the need to be documenting what you do. I’m not that great at it when it comes to crafting, though. The featured picture is my weaving “journal”. I really only use when I’m making a pattern in the weft, since that is what I’m actively doing, and I don’t want to unwind everything to figure out if I did 6 inches or 8 inches in that stripe. I also use it to doodle my patterning for my warp. I have x number of spaces, and I want y number of stripes, but I want z number such and such a width. For everyone who thought math wouldn’t help them…I have to draw pictures…and I actually did pretty good in math. As you can see, I futz, and then end up with “nothing like this”. But I guess it’s a place to start, right?
So, what is my “failure”? I didn’t figure out how much yarn I was starting with. I had teal and lavender, and then a variegated mess of the two. I knew I wanted stripes of the solid, and make the weft the variegated. This was “found” yarn. I have no idea where or when I got it, but it came without bands, and so I just kind of went for it.

I was going to have a perfectly symmetrical warp, so, I started in the middle and worked my way out, and yeah, not enough yarn. Oops. That’s OK, though! One of my favorite sayings is “If you don’t have a Plan B, you don’t have a Plan”. I’m pretty sure I first heard that on NCIS because I’ve ALWAYS been an old lady. I had some left over teal from the yarn potluck, I figured I’d just add that into the mix and see. This is even adding that in, and I’m still not balanced AT ALL. Plus, I ran out of the teal potluck yarn.

So, yeah, that didn’t work either. My entryway was out of commission for a day until I could get more of the potluck yarn to finish up the warp. (Poor Poopie) As you can see, there really ended up being almost no rhyme or reason to the stripes, though it looks like there should be. When these things happen, I think fondly of my BFF from high school, A. We would go to our friend’s house for lunch, where they had a wall hanging that *ALMOST* had a pattern to the quilt blocks. If you pulled off this row, then the remainder had a pattern, or if you pulled from the other side, the rest would have a pattern. It drove A batty. This stripe pattern looks like it should have a pattern, and just maybe you aren’t smart enough to see it. If you see it, you are smarter than me. This is what happens when you don’t properly prepare, and neither Plans A nor B really work out.
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I am confident enough in my weaving that this isn’t a big deal. Also, despite what I have thought for years and years, I am a process crafter. There’s a school of thought that one is either a “process” (knitter, but I’m substituting crafter), or a “product”. Are you in it for the process? or just the finished product? I’ve always thought I’m a product crafter, since in so much of my life I’m so goal-oriented. However, I’ve had to come to terms that I’m not necessarily what I always thought I was. I’m taking a journey, not arriving at a destination. Since I’m not trying to make something in particular, there isn’t a place I’m heading, so I can’t get lost. For those of you who know me IRL and are confused…this is in crafting ONLY. And ONLY when I don’t have a Project in mind. I can be Zen with whatever comes. IRL, I have obligations I need to meet. I cannot just be Zen with whatever comes, because that could mean I’m not able to fulfill my obligations. When I’m making a Project, Poopie can attest that the frustrations of gauge not working or colors not being right drives me to tears. As I’ve stated before, I have no weaving obligations. I make cloth. That’s it. Cloth. And you are the A hole for trying to make it more. So, maybe I have a “direction” I’m going, I’m heading towards Cloth, as long as I’m still heading in that direction, I’m good.
This is the weaving I was doing during my experiment with living without electricity. (Like the spin I put on that awful week?) But, one of the warp threads broke, and while totally fixable, it wasn’t something I felt comfortable doing by candlelight. One of the things I love about crafting is that all of the problems in crafting (unlike life) can be fixed. By me. Even if the fix is tearing it all out, and never looking at it again. This wasn’t that drastic an issue. I can fix a broken warp thread. See?
Yes, these pictures are all the same project. The difference in light makes a huge difference, and is a major reason why I miss buying fiber in person. I just can’t tell over the computer screen what color something is. I’d also like you to note the subtleness that all the cross colors create. It almost looks like it should be plaid. Again, A’s brain would explode. In most of my crafting, as long as I don’t let anyone see the pattern (you know, like the weaving journal I posted at the top), I’m golden. I made Cloth. No one has any way of knowing I wanted North Cloth, and ended up with South Cloth. Except, Dear Reader, I’m letting you in on my secret. I’m counting on you to keep it.
There’s another lesson in here about colors mixing, and the unexpected joys that can bring, but I’m tired right now, and it’s not quite formulating for me. I’m going to go and watch a serial killer documentary and work on some more weaving. Have a great weekend!





That has it’s own dangers, though. These coasters I made for my grandma took me a couple of tries to get them right because I thought I understood the instructions. I was wrong-ish. They would have worked, however, they wouldn’t lay as flat as I wanted. I read and read, I looked at the written direction as well as the chart. Turns out 11 and 10 are not the same. The first cluster was the beginning chains and 10 stitches, so the next clusters were all 11 stitches. I read it and read it and still processed the instructions to read 10 stitches in each cluster.
Please enjoy the pictures of the Baby Parade the town puts on for the first day of spring. Each time I visit, I have to spend the first bit translating Spanish to English to the actual meaning of what’s being said. Then, I go through a time where I can understand what’s being said, but I can’t translate it to English for poor Poopie. Usually about the time I regain some fluency, it’s time to go.

Then, I pull the lace out. I make sure to pull the yarn as far as it will go. I catch each of the points in the rod to make strong, consistent points for the finish.
You can’t see any of the definition that makes the piece beautiful. You may not even be able to see the full potential. It takes stretching the piece beyond what you think is possible to bring out its full glory, like the featured image.
There is, however, always the possibility of going too far. But, I maintain it was going to break anyway, and it’s best to know now than when I’ve come to depend on it. Besides, if it’s never blocked, it never has a chance of being what it’s supposed to be.