I know people use blogs for 10,000 different things, and that's why I adore this medium.
But I want to clear up some misconceptions about what I use this blog for.
While I have some semi-serious research on here, some crack-pot theories, some great tutorials, and some awesome "this is how I made this" garment diaries, this is not a place for uber-super-serious academic scholarship (as you can tell by my Valley Girl chirping of "uber-super-serious"). That doesn't mean that I'm not serious about my research. It just means that chances are, you won't find the actual stuffy-academic paper here. You're going to get the layman's version.
So that's clear, right?
The reason I'm bringing this up is that in the past 3 weeks or so, there have been several online discussions where bloggers (and some of them are indeed serious academic researchers) have self-referenced their own blog posts as serious academic sources. These blog posts did not, in fact, contain any historic references of any kind, no citations, no original quotes - some pictures, yes, (but they weren't even labeled with the museums or original publications)... but the words contained in the posts were those of the blog authors drawing their own conclusions about their own research. Which is fine. That's what research is for. It's just not a suitable reference source. You can't cross-check research that doesn't have references.
So, dear blog readers; please be careful about listing your references, or please refrain from being self-referential. You may well be "the best in the business" in your area of study, but without a bibliography post-post... it's useless to the rest of the world, and makes you look less professional than you may actually be.
Hopefully no one is mortally offended, but it's something to bare in mind.
Serious Research = Bibliography.
No References = Just For Fun.
Friday, March 29, 2013
Saturday, February 16, 2013
The Skivvies Question
WARNING: this post is rather comically graphic about female anatomy & function (or malfunction), if you are shy about this topic, go read one of my pretty dress posts instead.
If you have a giggling bladder, you may want to get a new pad before reading this.
Getting lost down the rabbit hole of reenactor blogs is always fun. Welcome to my little corner of Wonderland.
This particular burrow twisted its way to the topic of women's undies in the 14th c. or rather the lack of evidence for them (which continues right up to the 1790's when someone finally bothered to mention them, unless you are Italian, then go for it since pre-Rome). It kept to the polite world of fashionable evidence* and what was considered right and proper for the time and place. All well and good, and possibly right... but I think on this topic maybe we should get a bit more personal, a bit more anatomical and a bit more honest about what girl-bits actually do.
*or lack thereof except for the German things which may or may not have belong to a man or woman, the DNA tests were inconclusive.
I think underwear is like bras. Women with small busts will make the braless argument (14th c.), and have good physical evidence to back it up, "Look! My A/B breasts are perfect for this time period! I look just like the paintings." Women who are well-endowed can't imagine going without for extended periods of time - it HURTS, and there is plenty of written evidence to suggest that many people used bust support of some kind; be it camisoles, partlets, breast bags (bras), bindings, supportive shifts, etc. sometimes referenced in art, sometimes not.
Regarding underwear, drawers, trousers, leggings, etc.
The Period.
There is the old argument that says "they must have worn something at least once a month" which is valid, but can be answered with tampons* so as not to leave a red trail on the ground or stain one's shoes, clothes, furniture, etc... However, I want to take this beyond the pad/tampon sticking point and talk about the every day life facts of being the proud owner of occasionally non-cooperative and troublesome female bits - through sickness and health.
*for light flow folks who have never seen a clot in their lives...
Thighs.
Women who have slender thighs will say "you don't need drawers, they didn't wear them, go without," whereas women who chaff without leg protection will get a bit testy* if they are told they can't wear something to protect their upper legs from their upper legs. Let's face it, Lady Monkey Butt may be awesome today (for 30 steps), but it sure wasn't on the market in the 1400's.
*Murderous
I happen to be one of these unfortunate souls - my thighs have not parted ways since I was 8 yrs. old and got run over by the puberty truck. The last time I was able to walk around without a cotton lining between my legs I was in 2nd grade. I hated gym class because you had to wear shorts. Those stupid things would crawl up to my crotch within 5 steps, and here's the busty/hippy girl, trying to run around the track while simultaneously holding my boobs still, pulling out the frontal wedgie, praying I wouldn't get blisters and feeling them bloom with each step; looking like a damn fool and getting yelled at for being last because I was waddling across the finish line trying not to let my thighs move/touch/rub any more. No, your thighs don't get used to it; they just chafe. I tried it again a few times in college just to be interesting, and got rubbed red blisters with bloody abrasions that took weeks to heal with me walking around trying to be bowlegged. It's funny, but I assure you, it's not fun.
A small piece of advice: don't even try to tell us girls with conjoined thighs that we should suffer for historic accuracy, or that our dusty counterparts did so either - no one is that stupid or masochistic. I could rest my case there, but being mostly English and not at all Italian it's not a strong historic argument - though it does cover body type needs quite well; which should end the reenacting discussion for any rational, thinking, compassionate person. For the love of all that is comfy, don't take my drawers away!
Personal Humidity.
Ladies with a drier personal environment may say "you don't need underwear." Those who reside in the subtropics and employ panty liners to catch the copious amounts of mucus are not all that different from their ancestors. Personal humidity varies throughout the month, and person to person. Some people may never have a hint of moisture in their lives unless it's stained red... others have never seen a dry day. If you are one of the many ladies of a more damp persuasion, underwear and liners become quite critical - especially if coupled with wedded thighs and fewer than 4 layers of cloth.
Can you imagine walking around with runny boogers hanging out your nose like that sticky toddler your used-to-be good-friend somehow spawned? No? Then don't expect someone to walk around with that between their legs. Let them have their personal tissues which need something to hold them in place - like a pair of underwear, though I'm sure someone will come up with some ridiculous contraption to deny the possibility of such a simple, logical, easy (historically available) solution.
Sex.
Yes, adults do it. It's how we get the snotty-nosed toddlers referenced above. Reproductive sex is messy. If you are lucky, it's only temporarily messy; but alas, this is reality and like all other fluids in the pelvic region, it can surprise you with ill-timing and astonishing amounts later in the day. Again, I reference the need for absorbent material on the outside. Sex was considered part of basic human health, which has thankfully made a return in modern medicine (curse the Victorians). The most common places you see women without underwear in Medieval, Renaissance & Baroque artwork? Pornography. Jokes. Porny jokes. Anywhere there is sex, there are naked bums.
Infections.
Yup, we all get them. One kind or another, one time or another, every female on the face of the planet is going to have a bad girl-bits day. Some are best treated with medicine, others with open air... but no matter what, medicine doesn't stay in. It comes out eventually. Preferably, it comes out when it's supposed to, which is in the bathroom. Usually it's when you stand up from the dinner table... then you get that funny look on your face and your husband says "what's wrong Honey?" and you have to sorta try to smile and say "nothing Dear" but the kids all think they just did something wrong and now your husband is wondering what you aren't talking about and.... just imagine that moment on bare thighs and the uncertainty of where that precarious gob is going to land... Draw whatever conclusions you like, but the fact is, things don't stay in.
Incontinence.
Many women suffer from varying degrees of incontinence, which is quite natural after childbirth, as one ages, has hormonal changes, gains weight, etc. I can't imagine visiting a friend in 16th c. England, being terrified to laugh or sneeze least my bladder let go all over their new imported oriental rug (which would probably be on the table, not the floor... but you take my meaning). Nor can I imagine soiling every dress I owned every day at least several times a day while going about my daily tasks. This doesn't rule that scenario out, but the fact is fabric was expensive. Silk doesn't like urine, while linen will easily tolerate it. A shift & petticoat are simply not enough to keep a 55 yr. old bladder's contents away from that damask when the human it resides in sneezes; but several layers of folded diaper linen, an absorbent weave often found in gong tower excavations, are.
Urine cannot be caught by tampons, the anatomy just isn't right.
The moist squishy facts of being born with that particular body part is that it leaks. It leaks blood, urine, mucus and various other substances as life goes on. True then, true now. For some women more than others.
As a reenactor, I think it has to come down to comfort and feasibility. If you are fine going without, go without. If you'll be crippled by blisters and chaffing within 8 steps or have a wet spot on your skirts 30 minutes into the morning, please ignore the skeptics and wear something. Quite honestly, as much as I care about historic accuracy, anyone who is close enough to see that garment either needs to not care about your choice in undies or get kicked real hard with shoes that have metal bits built in.
In terms of history and evidence, if you want to find lady's underwear, look at what the sermons are preaching against and glance through the medical treatises on women's health, you'll find a lot more than what is listed in the tailor's inventories. Also look into funeral practices; personal items were routinely burned or donated to charity without being listed individually, and while we can't know exactly what was there, there is room for a reasonable assumption (with caution).
Caution: Don't take my reasoning as proof. There is scattered evidence, but it
is not generally accepted in the academic costume community. Take my
reasoning as logic based on biology; but also remember that modern logic
is not always logical in a historic context.
I'm not using the "if they'd have had it they'd have used it" argument. I want proof before marketing a product which is why I only carry women's drawers for post-1500 Italy and post-1800 for everyone else. What I'm saying is, you live now, today in your body. If it comes down to a choice between perfect scholarly accuracy and being painfully crippled for a week by chaffed thighs, the thighs should win.
But I also think the thighs won then. People aren't stupid, and they won't suffer needlessly or cripple themselves when there is a simple solution available. There is absolutely no logical reason to assume that women did not wear similar styles of underwear as men did when need or want dictated... after all, it was women who made the skivvies in the first place. It may or may not have been proper, popular or talked about in mixed company - other than in sermons where it was being preached against for hundreds of years - so why? If it wasn't done, it wouldn't have caused the controversy. In art, it's either satire or allegory, but that doesn't mean it didn't actually happen. Just as today, different women may or may not have worn that garment. Now, just as then, it's not anyone's business but your own.
(I sincerely hope that no one is deeply offended, I did warn you... But I think it's important to address more than the menstrual cycle when talking about this garment and its function in historic context for once-living women).
If you have a giggling bladder, you may want to get a new pad before reading this.
 |
| Roman de la Rose (Psst...the book is all about sex) |
This particular burrow twisted its way to the topic of women's undies in the 14th c. or rather the lack of evidence for them (which continues right up to the 1790's when someone finally bothered to mention them, unless you are Italian, then go for it since pre-Rome). It kept to the polite world of fashionable evidence* and what was considered right and proper for the time and place. All well and good, and possibly right... but I think on this topic maybe we should get a bit more personal, a bit more anatomical and a bit more honest about what girl-bits actually do.
*or lack thereof except for the German things which may or may not have belong to a man or woman, the DNA tests were inconclusive.
I think underwear is like bras. Women with small busts will make the braless argument (14th c.), and have good physical evidence to back it up, "Look! My A/B breasts are perfect for this time period! I look just like the paintings." Women who are well-endowed can't imagine going without for extended periods of time - it HURTS, and there is plenty of written evidence to suggest that many people used bust support of some kind; be it camisoles, partlets, breast bags (bras), bindings, supportive shifts, etc. sometimes referenced in art, sometimes not.
 |
| 1411 Fountain of Youth (look! skivvies! on a person with boobs!) |
The Period.
There is the old argument that says "they must have worn something at least once a month" which is valid, but can be answered with tampons* so as not to leave a red trail on the ground or stain one's shoes, clothes, furniture, etc... However, I want to take this beyond the pad/tampon sticking point and talk about the every day life facts of being the proud owner of occasionally non-cooperative and troublesome female bits - through sickness and health.
*for light flow folks who have never seen a clot in their lives...
Thighs.
Women who have slender thighs will say "you don't need drawers, they didn't wear them, go without," whereas women who chaff without leg protection will get a bit testy* if they are told they can't wear something to protect their upper legs from their upper legs. Let's face it, Lady Monkey Butt may be awesome today (for 30 steps), but it sure wasn't on the market in the 1400's.
*Murderous
I happen to be one of these unfortunate souls - my thighs have not parted ways since I was 8 yrs. old and got run over by the puberty truck. The last time I was able to walk around without a cotton lining between my legs I was in 2nd grade. I hated gym class because you had to wear shorts. Those stupid things would crawl up to my crotch within 5 steps, and here's the busty/hippy girl, trying to run around the track while simultaneously holding my boobs still, pulling out the frontal wedgie, praying I wouldn't get blisters and feeling them bloom with each step; looking like a damn fool and getting yelled at for being last because I was waddling across the finish line trying not to let my thighs move/touch/rub any more. No, your thighs don't get used to it; they just chafe. I tried it again a few times in college just to be interesting, and got rubbed red blisters with bloody abrasions that took weeks to heal with me walking around trying to be bowlegged. It's funny, but I assure you, it's not fun.
A small piece of advice: don't even try to tell us girls with conjoined thighs that we should suffer for historic accuracy, or that our dusty counterparts did so either - no one is that stupid or masochistic. I could rest my case there, but being mostly English and not at all Italian it's not a strong historic argument - though it does cover body type needs quite well; which should end the reenacting discussion for any rational, thinking, compassionate person. For the love of all that is comfy, don't take my drawers away!
Personal Humidity.
Ladies with a drier personal environment may say "you don't need underwear." Those who reside in the subtropics and employ panty liners to catch the copious amounts of mucus are not all that different from their ancestors. Personal humidity varies throughout the month, and person to person. Some people may never have a hint of moisture in their lives unless it's stained red... others have never seen a dry day. If you are one of the many ladies of a more damp persuasion, underwear and liners become quite critical - especially if coupled with wedded thighs and fewer than 4 layers of cloth.
Can you imagine walking around with runny boogers hanging out your nose like that sticky toddler your used-to-be good-friend somehow spawned? No? Then don't expect someone to walk around with that between their legs. Let them have their personal tissues which need something to hold them in place - like a pair of underwear, though I'm sure someone will come up with some ridiculous contraption to deny the possibility of such a simple, logical, easy (historically available) solution.
Sex.
Yes, adults do it. It's how we get the snotty-nosed toddlers referenced above. Reproductive sex is messy. If you are lucky, it's only temporarily messy; but alas, this is reality and like all other fluids in the pelvic region, it can surprise you with ill-timing and astonishing amounts later in the day. Again, I reference the need for absorbent material on the outside. Sex was considered part of basic human health, which has thankfully made a return in modern medicine (curse the Victorians). The most common places you see women without underwear in Medieval, Renaissance & Baroque artwork? Pornography. Jokes. Porny jokes. Anywhere there is sex, there are naked bums.
Infections.
Yup, we all get them. One kind or another, one time or another, every female on the face of the planet is going to have a bad girl-bits day. Some are best treated with medicine, others with open air... but no matter what, medicine doesn't stay in. It comes out eventually. Preferably, it comes out when it's supposed to, which is in the bathroom. Usually it's when you stand up from the dinner table... then you get that funny look on your face and your husband says "what's wrong Honey?" and you have to sorta try to smile and say "nothing Dear" but the kids all think they just did something wrong and now your husband is wondering what you aren't talking about and.... just imagine that moment on bare thighs and the uncertainty of where that precarious gob is going to land... Draw whatever conclusions you like, but the fact is, things don't stay in.
Incontinence.
Many women suffer from varying degrees of incontinence, which is quite natural after childbirth, as one ages, has hormonal changes, gains weight, etc. I can't imagine visiting a friend in 16th c. England, being terrified to laugh or sneeze least my bladder let go all over their new imported oriental rug (which would probably be on the table, not the floor... but you take my meaning). Nor can I imagine soiling every dress I owned every day at least several times a day while going about my daily tasks. This doesn't rule that scenario out, but the fact is fabric was expensive. Silk doesn't like urine, while linen will easily tolerate it. A shift & petticoat are simply not enough to keep a 55 yr. old bladder's contents away from that damask when the human it resides in sneezes; but several layers of folded diaper linen, an absorbent weave often found in gong tower excavations, are.
Urine cannot be caught by tampons, the anatomy just isn't right.
The moist squishy facts of being born with that particular body part is that it leaks. It leaks blood, urine, mucus and various other substances as life goes on. True then, true now. For some women more than others.
As a reenactor, I think it has to come down to comfort and feasibility. If you are fine going without, go without. If you'll be crippled by blisters and chaffing within 8 steps or have a wet spot on your skirts 30 minutes into the morning, please ignore the skeptics and wear something. Quite honestly, as much as I care about historic accuracy, anyone who is close enough to see that garment either needs to not care about your choice in undies or get kicked real hard with shoes that have metal bits built in.
In terms of history and evidence, if you want to find lady's underwear, look at what the sermons are preaching against and glance through the medical treatises on women's health, you'll find a lot more than what is listed in the tailor's inventories. Also look into funeral practices; personal items were routinely burned or donated to charity without being listed individually, and while we can't know exactly what was there, there is room for a reasonable assumption (with caution).
 |
| 1475-1500 The World Turned Upside Down Gender role reversals German |
I'm not using the "if they'd have had it they'd have used it" argument. I want proof before marketing a product which is why I only carry women's drawers for post-1500 Italy and post-1800 for everyone else. What I'm saying is, you live now, today in your body. If it comes down to a choice between perfect scholarly accuracy and being painfully crippled for a week by chaffed thighs, the thighs should win.
But I also think the thighs won then. People aren't stupid, and they won't suffer needlessly or cripple themselves when there is a simple solution available. There is absolutely no logical reason to assume that women did not wear similar styles of underwear as men did when need or want dictated... after all, it was women who made the skivvies in the first place. It may or may not have been proper, popular or talked about in mixed company - other than in sermons where it was being preached against for hundreds of years - so why? If it wasn't done, it wouldn't have caused the controversy. In art, it's either satire or allegory, but that doesn't mean it didn't actually happen. Just as today, different women may or may not have worn that garment. Now, just as then, it's not anyone's business but your own.
(I sincerely hope that no one is deeply offended, I did warn you... But I think it's important to address more than the menstrual cycle when talking about this garment and its function in historic context for once-living women).
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
How not to clean an iron
So, you know that lovely piece of 100% wool that isn't wool? Yeah, that one.
Honestly, I thought Dad was making popcorn at 11:00 a.m.
I even had it set on Polyester.
So, before I go any farther & you think the following is how you should do this, just go get yourself some Barkeeper's Friend, Faultless hot iron cleaner, or some other product specifically designed to clean irons. I hear fine steel wool is also helpful.
Don't try what you're about to see at home...
BUT if you want to giggle, read on...
Just as an FYI, it's perfectly legal to have up to a 15% blend in wool & call it "100% wool"... in some cases it will be upwards of 30% depending on country of origin.
>>CougH, I woN't sAy where that comes from, cough<<
Anyway, it's legally wool, and at $18.00/yd it was a darn good lie.
Blends can be acrylic, nylon, polyester, rayon or any number of other fibers. They serve various purposes, mostly to help the wool be a more consistent fiber... until someone like me actually believes the fabric label & sets their iron on one-degree-less-than-required to press a seam and melts it all over the place.
Labels may lie, but irons do not.
Honestly, I thought Dad was making popcorn at 11:00 a.m.
I even had it set on Polyester.
So, before I go any farther & you think the following is how you should do this, just go get yourself some Barkeeper's Friend, Faultless hot iron cleaner, or some other product specifically designed to clean irons. I hear fine steel wool is also helpful.
Don't try what you're about to see at home...
BUT if you want to giggle, read on...
 |
| THIS is what happened to my nice iron. NOT happy. |
 |
| Calling in the troops I had on hand. Windex, Goo Gone, Dawn (incognito), Gojo and Paper towels. |
 |
| After 3 applications of Goo Gone, I switched to Gojo & things started chipping off. |
 |
| Following the Gojo was Dawn. She worked for a bit, then quit. |
 |
| Slightly better after fingernail scraping for an hour. |
 |
| Now, after fingernail scraping for an hour, a person gets pretty frustrated. Yes, that's a small screw driver. |
 |
| More Gojo. |
 |
| After about 8 Gojo/Dawn/screwdriver/Windex sessions, we now have a clean iron. A bit scraped up, but usable until I get to buy a new one. 2 hours later. |
 |
| See this black crap? That's melted nylon on my cotton pressing cloth. |
Just as an FYI, it's perfectly legal to have up to a 15% blend in wool & call it "100% wool"... in some cases it will be upwards of 30% depending on country of origin.
>>CougH, I woN't sAy where that comes from, cough<<
Anyway, it's legally wool, and at $18.00/yd it was a darn good lie.
Blends can be acrylic, nylon, polyester, rayon or any number of other fibers. They serve various purposes, mostly to help the wool be a more consistent fiber... until someone like me actually believes the fabric label & sets their iron on one-degree-less-than-required to press a seam and melts it all over the place.
Labels may lie, but irons do not.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Saxony Wheel
My husband gave me an early Christmas gift this weekend.
We went to Mt. Morris, NY to buy a spinning wheel that I'd been looking at for months, only to find that Tom Cook of the Nunda Historic Society had snapped it up a few days before. I'm very fond of Tom, so I won't be upset, and I hope the wheel finds a good home there.
On went the hunt for a good treadle wheel for me though. We went through all of the antique shops on Main St. visiting & chatting & talking to no avail. I was told twice "you are the first person to ever ask for that." Then we went to Letchworth Barn Antiques down the hill and the moment we walked in the door, she was there. The Yarn Angles sang. Much like the Great Wheel in the basement, I looked up & knew she was coming home with me. She gave me a lovely splinter the first time I laid hands on her. It was meant to be.
Dusty, dirty, missing parts, a bit chipped, desperate for a drink.
But she went around, the treadle went up & down, the tension screw worked, the wood is sound.
It's missing the top of the distaff - no surprise there; and the entire flyer mechanism, which is disappointing as I'll have to find one that will work with the machine. The drive band is long gone & would have needed replacing anyway.
Unless the graffiti carved into the top of the table is actually a maker's mark, I can't find one... to me it looks like an adolescent's idol defacing, not the work of a careful craftsman.
I washed the wheel with Murphy's Oil Soap and gave it a good cleaning, polishing, and waxing the next day ... oiled the bits that needed it. After chipping off the years of paint & old oil (yes, someone once painted it white), it whirrs around like a champ.
John also bought the Box of Parts, which came with the purchase, but none of them go with this particular spinning wheel. Happily, one of the maidens will work wonderfully as a direct drive for my Great Wheel, and the extra spindle just needs a bit of care to be fully functional again.
It should be quite an adventure! The first leg of this journey will be finding a flyer mechanism (spindle, flyer, bobbin, etc) that works with this. Then a drive band (easy), then either making or finding a distaff.
I think this is my favorite diagram so far...
http://www.flickr.com/photos/93685979@N00/galleries/72157627888287428/
We went to Mt. Morris, NY to buy a spinning wheel that I'd been looking at for months, only to find that Tom Cook of the Nunda Historic Society had snapped it up a few days before. I'm very fond of Tom, so I won't be upset, and I hope the wheel finds a good home there.
On went the hunt for a good treadle wheel for me though. We went through all of the antique shops on Main St. visiting & chatting & talking to no avail. I was told twice "you are the first person to ever ask for that." Then we went to Letchworth Barn Antiques down the hill and the moment we walked in the door, she was there. The Yarn Angles sang. Much like the Great Wheel in the basement, I looked up & knew she was coming home with me. She gave me a lovely splinter the first time I laid hands on her. It was meant to be.
Dusty, dirty, missing parts, a bit chipped, desperate for a drink.
But she went around, the treadle went up & down, the tension screw worked, the wood is sound.
It's missing the top of the distaff - no surprise there; and the entire flyer mechanism, which is disappointing as I'll have to find one that will work with the machine. The drive band is long gone & would have needed replacing anyway.
Unless the graffiti carved into the top of the table is actually a maker's mark, I can't find one... to me it looks like an adolescent's idol defacing, not the work of a careful craftsman.
 |
| Dusty Wheel in her new home |
 |
| Gunked up mechanism due to old oil & paint (yes, someone painted the bearings) Wheel pegs missing, but it works without them. |
 |
| The Mother, maidens, tension screw & distaff base |
 |
| other view of maidens & distaff base |
 |
| The footman kept slipping off. That's the stick that connects the treadle to the wheel. |
I washed the wheel with Murphy's Oil Soap and gave it a good cleaning, polishing, and waxing the next day ... oiled the bits that needed it. After chipping off the years of paint & old oil (yes, someone once painted it white), it whirrs around like a champ.
 |
| Happy shiny wheel! |
 |
| She really needed a drink |
 |
| cleaned & oiled |
 |
| Have to figure out how the flyer assembly attaches. There aren't any holes for it. |
 | ||
| Some ugly paint is still there. I haven't decided what to do about it. |
 |
| Edge of the wheel. Double drive band. |
John also bought the Box of Parts, which came with the purchase, but none of them go with this particular spinning wheel. Happily, one of the maidens will work wonderfully as a direct drive for my Great Wheel, and the extra spindle just needs a bit of care to be fully functional again.
 |
| Box o Parts |
It should be quite an adventure! The first leg of this journey will be finding a flyer mechanism (spindle, flyer, bobbin, etc) that works with this. Then a drive band (easy), then either making or finding a distaff.
I think this is my favorite diagram so far...
http://www.flickr.com/photos/93685979@N00/galleries/72157627888287428/
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Wool Picker
 |
| Wool Picker |
So I looked up how to do that & discovered a wonderful little (terrifying) machine called a Wool Picker.
You can buy a few different versions here: http://www.woolery.com/store/pc/Wool-Pickers-c606.htm or you can get plans for a few dollars online (just google it).
BUT, the cheapskate in me couldn't see paying $200+ for what amounts to a wooden box with nails stuck in it when I have scrap lumber, nails, saws & screws here. So I looked at a few different versions and picked the best one for me (the one I wasn't terrified of), and went to the basement with safety glasses on & power tools in hand.
Here is a very basic open ended box wool picker.
It's made from pine boards (that used to be the cellar stairs that broke), 1 1/2" wood screws, 3" finishing nails and a 1" dowel... 2 2" screws for the handle.
It works great, but if I ever do it again, I'll use hardwood & space the nails at 1/2" apart vs. 1" apart in each row, though I'll keep the 1" between rows. I also wanted it to be 36" long, but the boards were only 32".
The teeth of the picker don't actually meet, they are > < this far apart so the machine moves freely.
You aren't trying to rip the fibers between the nails, you are trying to catch & separate them.
I'm just going to upload the pictures & do the basic "how I did it" in captions. So, Enjoy!
Also:
WARNING!!! This is NOT a toy! Do not operate this machine around cats, dogs, children or other curious pets or people. It WILL rip you apart. I highly recommend wearing thin leather gloves, or failing that having an updated tetanus shot & band-aids on hand. Also a wire tool to pull the wool out from between the nails is preferable to using your bare fingers.
DO NOT operate this when drunk. Not even one glass of wine. Seriously. It'll cut you.
 | |
| Mark out nail hole placement on 3 spike boards I used 3 so that I could change the direction of the board, not the drill. |
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| Drilling holes on an angle. If you want to be particular, use a guide. (You can also drill straight, it works just as well) Drill into another board so you get a clean back. |
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| Nails in from the back, so the pointy bits come out the front. |
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| Nails coming out the front. |
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| 3 spike boards finished (3 more to go for the handle) |
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| Baseboard, spike boards & sides. 2 more "feeder" boards go on either side of the spikes, mostly to have something to screw the sides into. |
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| Closeup of the angled nails. IN, Center, OUT |
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| Feeder boards & Sides screwed on |
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| 3 more spike boards for the top and the top runner board. |
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| Close-up of the top unit |
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| Base unit & top in all their spiky scariness |
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| Top & Base unit together |
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| Into the Maw of the Dragon (the nails are too close, I had to add more to keep them from scraping) |
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| Do NOT put your hands in here. |
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| Intake side. |
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| More scary. Now with 1/4" molding so the nails are not touching! |
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| The finished wool picker |
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| Detail of the handle I could have done a much better job, but honestly, I was tired & it works. |
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| Wool locks. |
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| You'll need to hand-pick these apart & remove anything you don't want mixed in with your final product. |
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| First pass through the picker. |
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| After 3 passes through the picker. The Finn took 5 passes, so not everything is this easy. |
The wool doesn't come out 100% clean, but the picker removes most of the VM. As with any wool you want to spin or felt, throw out anything with 50% or more VM in it. It's just not worth it & it'll wreck your yarn.
You have to use clean wool for this... no spinning in the grease if you want to use this machine. The lanolin will make a mess of the nails, so only clean, dry wool, OK?
You also have to do a bit of prep work, just like you would with hand-picking, flicking, combing, carding, etc. Break the locks up & start to break them apart a little. Run it through 3-5x until it looks like it'll card well. Discard any stubborn bits. Dump the dust out every 3rd batch or so.
I suggest filling up your intake box because the picker likes to have enough wool to grab onto... but don't pack it in because then it won't work. It's simple, you'll figure it out.
This was MUCH faster than hand picking. Not for every yarn type, but for a nice woolen with a stubborn fleece, it was about perfect.
To my knowledge, this is not a copyright design and no infringement is intended (certainly no profit was made). It's a scrap wood project, that I hope will make my spinning life easier & please feel free to use this, or modify the machine to fit your own needs.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Emotionally Invested
Today I got a FB "invite" to some Event on "why I should hate this blond lady for being a jerk at Arlington National Cemetery," or something like that. Honestly, I didn't bother reading it, I just declined.
The reason I declined was based on what I think of as Total Emotional Investment. This is the amount of emotional energy that I have within myself to care about everything that I care about. I care about many things, both real and conceptual; but in the last 2 years my focus has narrowed to the things that truly matter to me. In the last 6 months it has narrowed even further, and I've had to give up caring about many things that were dear to me.
At the moment, my Emotional Reserve (the amount of energy I have which is set aside for random stuff) is rather low. I'm tired. I'm sad. My blood pressure is screwed up. (Cancer is gone! Happy-face!) But if it's not something that is directly impacting my life, I just don't have the uumph to put into it. If it requires that I get angry, it needs to be worth me risking my life, or another stroke, or a heart attack, or at the very least another 3 days of Headache/Dizzy.
Some blond chick who has no manners or good sense?
Not worth a drop of my Emotional Reserve.
Some random obnoxious troll-chick who is horribly offended that I don't have the energy to care about some random rude stranger's 30 seconds of Rude Behavior immortalized in colored pixels?
So not my problem.
Before you scream at me, read on...
Yes, we have a sacred trust with the dead. Culturally speaking, where we lay our dead to rest is sacred ground, and that should not be violated (never mind that it IS all the time, but that's another story). It's why we are so horrified when punk-ass kids tip over tombstones. It's why we are enraged when people steal bronze grave markers, especially from our veterans, our Honored Dead. It's both a civil & moral crime that cuts to the heart of that sacred trust. It's shameful. It's disrespectful. They are horrible people & deserve to go to jail for desecration. Tombstones are also expensive.
But the dead don't care.
They don't care if a teenager tipped over their headstone or if it stands until time & rain wear it away.
They just don't.
If & when those trumpets sound, I promise they won't need a written reminder of their own name.
Those soldiers in Arlington... our great men & women who died fighting under our flag; they didn't hear her.
If by some strange twist of fate, some spirit or soul lingers there, I'm sure their shoulders are broad enough that they would not be wounded by the momentary actions of some vapid twit.
The people harmed here are the living; those who were there at the time grieving for their grandfathers, their lost loves, their brothers & sisters in arms.
Now, who is served by hating this particular idiot on a social media site?
No one.
It certainly won't make her care or apologize.
What it will do is get a whole lot of people riled up about a person who will never change, and will likely brag to her friends that she got so many thousand people on FB pissed at her for less than 30 seconds of effort on her part.
She thoughtlessly made fun of a sign and showed her total lack of respect for that place and what it means to our nation.
That's it.
Petty, yes. Stupid, yup. Disrespectful, oh yeah.
Worth my hate? Nope.
She's not worth it. You have to mean something to me to be worthy of my hatred.
Bandwagons have never exactly been my thing, and witch hunts even less.
Quite frankly, I just don't have the Emotional Reserve to be angry at that level of insensitivity & stupidity.
If that makes me selfish, so be it.
I've already given both of these girls more than enough of my time; and yes, a few of my tears.
What I care about right this minute, right now in this week of Thanksgiving, is my family, my home, my job, this silly yellow waistcoat with ten million buttons, my cats, my friends - new, old, face-to-face and online, and I guess The Rosie Dog if I really have to.
I'm hopeful that we will have living children someday. That I'll be able to drive again soon (without a babysitter), that things will go back to normal... that I'll find those IQ points I lost after surgery... maybe a few memories that I know are hiding in here somewhere...
My days are filled with sewing and cats, my parents & husband; spinning some days, photographs others. A walk when I have the energy for it, history lessons when I don't. (Rosie Dog, if I have to)...
Those things are simple and very personal. They are also the truth. It's what I have room for right now.
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