A post about sheep that takes a turn for the weird - Tactical Ninja
Nov. 15th, 2011
10:06 am - A post about sheep that takes a turn for the weird
Yesterday I had a wardrobe malfunction, in that my favourite skirt that I've worn at least once a week for four years, finally gave up the ghost. It did it by disintegrating where my arse goes when I'm sitting, and also in one of the side seams. The fabric just.. fell apart. I spent the rest of the day with my jersey tied round my waist to save the world from the bright-white-spotlight that was beaming from my bum out the back of my skirt, and will consider using the non-worn remainder to make a smaller skirt, but yeah.
This coincides with all my socks getting holey at once, and the bobbles on my favourite cardy going from tolerable to you-bought-that-at-shanton-didn't-you in the space of a week. The hems on several skirts are falling down too. ;-/ I need more clothes. I am partially tempted to buy them because right now my obsession is gardening, but it's true I am short of projects having finished The Ugliest Hat, so maybe I ought to score some fabric and get sewing in my copious free time.
Also, I have 350m of fairly lightweight (similar weight to tatting thread but with hairy/tassely bits on) yarn in navy blue and black. I don't know what to do with it - I suspect it'd make a nice shawl or wrap or shrug but I'd have to learn to crochet. Anyway, anyone have a pattern to hand for something funky I could make with this?
This is Womble. She's a prizewinning show sheep of the moorit variety, and I've been shearing her for three years. Show sheep are weird in that they have to be shorn in specific date ranges so that when they go to the show, they all have more or less the same amount of wool and this helps the judges to judge them. Womble was shorn in August for her fleece (9 months' fleece is ideal for spinning) - by someone else *gasp* because I'd just had laser surgery and couldn't do any shearing when all the show people rang me in the same week. Womble's owner tells me that the person who did it made a terrible job, although I do sympathise somewhat with the guy, since shearing for a spinner involves leaving any miscut bits on the sheep - if you cut off those short bits they get in the main fleece and mess up the spinning. If you don't shear them clean on the first blow, you have to leave the stripes on and this makes the sheep look bad. Couple this with being new to the sheep, and the sheep being a wrinkly variety, and .. yeah, I sympathise.
However, it also means they think I do a good job which is nice to know. These sheep usually come out looking like they've been dipped in chocolate when they're shorn. Shearing for show means I am really careful not to cut them and I have to take the front socks off too which is not something I'm practiced at, so the whole thing takes a bit longer than usual but is very satisfying.
I am now hoping for the weather to hold so I can do a bunch of suffolks tonight, after which I get a break for a couple of weeks in which to focus on other things - apparently including gardening, making new clothes and finishing coding the BZP interviews (I'm half way there).
OK so I'm not so big on the cosmic woo-woo, but many many years ago I made a deal with my Mum. We agreed that whoever died first, if it became evident that it was possible, would try to contact the other. Now, since we made that deal my ideas about what happens when you die have consolidated. I believe that when you die that's it - zip, zilch, nada - gone. But the stuff you're made of goes back into the system in one way or another. So, what about consciousness? I reckon that a lot of who you are is stored in other people's minds in a kind of reciprocal acknowledgement - your image of me and mine of you helps us both create an identity in the collective consciousness, you know? Furthermore, your reflection of my identity back at me in your interactions with me and with others who know me, helps to ensure my consciousness exists outside my body. I don't have to be present to exist in your mind or to influence you, and that's kind of what I reckon happens to consciousness after death - it continues to exist in the minds of people it's touched. My grandmother, who I never met, has a consciousness that exists in my mind through my father's passing it on, through pictures, through my weird knees and how I feel about them. Etc.
With me so far? So where am I going with this? Well, remember my deal with Mum?
On the day she died, I stopped biting my fingernails, permanently. Not consciously, it just happened. Then I started doing spinning and fibre art. This was more conscious - Mum left a half-completed project and I wanted to finish it. But then I kept doing it and started weaving as well. Then I gave up smoking. Then I started eating healthy and cooking. Then I started baking biscuits. Now I want to make bread.
I am turning into my Mum. Not just her - it's more that I am adopting parts of her consciousness into my own identity. I'm still me, but it feels as though I'm becoming Me Plus - adding a bunch of things to my repertoire of me-ness that just happen to be things that were part of Mum's me-ness and had never interested me prior to her death.
Coincidence? I dunno. But I've noticed it.
So at this point I'll just go *woogie woogie woogie* and leave it at that, huh?