How I Became My Very Own Fiber Nazi (or, Pickled Fiber in Apothecary Jars, Oh My!!)

I can't knit. OK, I knit. I don't like to knit. The directions look confusing. I fall asleep when I do it, and I look all slack-jawed and drooly. And it's a struggle to get anything to come out in the right shape, and the only shape I've ever tried to make is a rectangle.

So there I was, sitting outside one of the barns at Rhinebeck, spinning, and I found myself explaining to a very nice young woman the story of what I do with my yarn.

Me: "First, I spin it up. Then I put it in a big jar. A big apothecary jar that I bought from Walmart for $10.00. There are many jars. I probably should stop buying jars when I get to about 10, or people will start thinking funny things about me."

Her: "Why don't you knit it?"

Me: "Oh, don't get me started. My knitting is embarrassing."

Her: "So you're a yarn hoarder?"

Me: "Err... well I guess I am."

Her: "You should sell it."

Me: "Nope, can't do that. Nobody would pay enough to cover costs for high end fiber spun on drop spindles. It takes about 8 hours to make a ball of yarn."

Her: "Hmmm... well you could give it away."

Me: "Tried that... nobody sends me thank you notes with beautiful pictures of what they made with it. And when I send something all made up, if they send me a picture, I swear, they throw the thing on and hold their camera in the air and snap a blurry picture. Nope, nobody deserves that yarn, not even me. Pickled yarn in apothecary jars is the way to go."

That, my friends, is how I became a Fiber Nazi. "No yarn for you!"

 

 There's room for six more jars, and then I start looking a little quirky.