Willa's Journal

I felted last night. The last time I said that to someone (Cello), he said, "You felt what?"

Felting is weird. You may have done it accidentally. I know I have. I've never worn wool, but sometime in my teenage years I decided to try it, and I bought a pretty baby blue turtleneck sweater that somehow (probably just through my ignorance) got washed with the rest of the clothes and ended up a size that might have fit an infant.

Felting is the process of washing a wool item in hot water, and through the hot water and agitation, the wool fibers kind of grab on to each other, the fabric loses its stitch definition, shrinks, and becomes one cohesive piece. There's no going back from felting, which is why I was a little reluctant to felt my bag last night. I wasn't absolutely pleased with the way it looked, and if it had been something that was going to be used the way it was, i.e., not felted, I would have ripped it out and started over.

But since it was going to be felted, I knew that the felting process would take care of a lot of the inconsistencies that I was unhappy with, so I figured I'd go ahead, and if it came out badly, well, there's always more yarn.

It came out well, though, I thought. It's still wet in this picture, and I have since pulled it into shape a little bit more, and lined up the stripes. It will probably take a couple of days to dry, and I need to get it out of the laundry alcove and into a place where it gets more air circulation, but I can't leave it within reach of the cats because Pyewacket especially adores wool.

Anyway, I was happy with it. Felting, in addition to being weird, is unpredictable. I had good luck with the first tote bag I made, then I got overconfident and shrunk the second one almost into oblivion, which I why I was kind of obsessive about this one. I filled the washer and stuck it in there with some towels, and checked it about every five minutes for fifteen minutes or so, or until the felting started, and then probably every minute for another ten. My fingers were pruney, but it turned out about the right size.

The strap is too long, but I think that might be because it got wound up with the towels while it was in the washer. I'm not sure how that could have been rectified, and too long is better than two short, anyway. I can always tie a knot in it.

Had a long conversation with the vet this afternoon; he didn't really have any new insights, mostly just what we'd talked about before, but I guess it always makes me feel better to at least talk to someone who understands and sympathizes. He said there's a product called Feliway that he recommends, which mimics a cat's marking pheromones and makes them feel more comfortable and less inclined to feel the need to mark their territory, which he thinks Dinah is doing.

I used to think that only male cats did that, but Dinah's always been a little bit off . . . I'm sure part of it is having two cats. Even if they aren't overly aggressive with each other, they've never been totally comfortable with each other, either. Dinah got on the bed last night and went over to Pyewacket for a little comfort, and Pye put up with her for about five minutes, then bit her, and Dinah shot off the bed.

I think it was at the Feliway site that they recommended spraying two bandannas with the stuff and tying one around each cat's neck. Maybe we should try that . . .

I guess we'll get it sorted out eventually.

I called my doctor, too, and I've got an appointment with her--for tomorrow! Which scares me a little, like they're rushing me in--can't wait! Get her in here NOW! It's probably nothing. I hope it's nothing. But yeah, it does worry me, so sooner is probably better than later.

There's an interview with my pal David Knopfler at Salon today, which I mention here because I don't post very much at the weblog anymore (formerly Mood Swings), so I doubt many people check it.