The better part of today was spent getting my "fiber arts studio" organized. I haven't had any good place to store my meager stash and it was getting difficult to find patterns, knitting needles, notions... It's much better now. I bought the Stick Stacks from Ashland Sky and now all of my needles are in their own place, and taking up less room than they were when they were in their original packaging. The best part is that if I go to a knitting workshop or retreat, I can grab all of my needles and will be prepared for anything!
Less room taken up by needles means I could consolidate the stash into a single storage container. Ziplock bags further enhance the organization. I found some UFOs that I decided I'll never finish, so I ripped those out. But a puzzle is what happened to the front of a sweater I started knitting years ago? I cannot find it. I think I've got enough yarn from an unfinished crochet project to make a shawl or a little capelet.
But in amongst all the organizing and cleaning was some sadness. I pulled out my handspun from about 20 years ago and...um...it looked a little webby and mothy. I don't know what to do with it. Wash it to get the mothy stuff out? Put in the freezer to kill the mothy stuff? It's in a bag, waiting to be thrown out, which is a shame, now that I know how to knit. Some of the yarn is quite nice looking. I must have about 5 pounds of handspun.
I made a commitment to myself to start practicing yoga at home. I did about an hour or so this morning and it definitely changed how I faced the day. I seemed to be more calm and, more importantly, more focused. I think that was one of the reasons I'm not too terribly heartbroken about the possibility of pitching my handspun. Or maybe some of the non-attachment stuff is finally beginning to sink in.
This evening, while my husband is watching Mystic River, I plan to finish my sock and perhaps start another pair. Somehow that seems easier than trying to figure where I left off on the two sweaters I've started. And no, I'm not going to watch the movie while I knit. I'm a movie wimp. I don't like feeling tense and anxious, which is how most movies make me feel. I cry when animals get hurt. Heck, I even cried while watching Winged Migration, which is a documentary about migrating birds. Some birds died. I love birds.
Now, if Tom was going to watch Shrek 2, I'd be there!