The Wool Drying Basket

The State Fair this year was wonderful! Both of my two projects (#1 and #2 ) received blue ribbons and one special merit. If you know anything about state fairs, at least in our state fair, a special merit really does mean special. It’s difficult to obtain one. Yet for the first time, if I remember correctly, I have a special merit ribbons next to my name “Margaret —–”. The honor went to my socks! My dear little Victorian styled socks! The top photo shows a picture of my basket with its blue ribbon nestled near my name. This year’s outcomes are probably the highest rated in my eight years of 4-H.

There it is…the orange Special Merit ribbon.

A few hours before the auction…

After reading Cheyenne’s post about worrying, I am ashamed to say that after reading such a post and saying to myself  “Margaret, you’re not going to worry about it” that I have backtracked about a mile and have spent most of my day thinking about worrying. Tonight I will be at the county fair auction displaying my honey. For some reason I have got the jitter bug crawling all over, even though I’ve done this before with chickens. I know that all will be all right and I won’t die, but for some reason, I can’t tell my nerves to just stop it!

There’s something about the idea of standing before an arena of people watching you that just sets me off of the experience. And then I sit myself down (metaphorically) and figure out what it is that is bothering me to the extent of having Mom take the child proof lid off of the Pepto-Bismal bottle. Does anyone else have problems with child proof lids ?

The morning after…

I am writing this part the morning after, like an auction hangover. I am pooped and feeling the effects of an immediate bout of relief being thrust upon the body after a nervous experience. As I expected, yet failed to really believe, everything went well. No one threw tomatoes at me, or snickered as I held my two jars of honey in front of me, with a surprisingly natural smile plastered on my face.

I was at the very end, after all the pigs, steers, turkeys, rabbits, and sheep. I had to be careful where I was stepping and I made the mistake of not giving thought to what was on my feet…flip flops. Bad choice, but miraculously I didn’t step into anything! Ta-da!

The honey sold for $80, which is not bad, but even in 4-H, everything is politics. I was mentioned in the paper this morning and I had the pleasure of selling the honey to a family that I knew. The wife poked her husband and said “I’m out of honey at home, buy it. ” And he did, after only one other bid, but I made it through the night still standing, so I should be pleased.

Photos courtesy of : Breezy

So the normal routine has passed :

Step 1 : You think you’re calm and you go about your day.

Step 2 : For some reason you start thinking, and everything that could go wrong flashes through your mind and you start to feel butterflies in your stomach.

Step 3 : You talk yourself out of it, and make believe that you are indeed fine.

Step 4 : As it nears time, you finally admit that you’re a little nervous and go through your own routine of calming the nerves.

Step 5 : A minute before the dreaded event comes, you think about the things you will be doing after it’s over, and wish you were doing them now, which would mean it is actually over.

Step 6 : Post temporary paralysis; you feel fine and laugh at yourself for worrying, and say that you’ll never do that again.

Steps 1- 5 : Repeated sooner than you know.

The first sock is completed, and I must say that it turned out very sweet and rewarding. It took no time at all make and I am already on the second sock, hopefully to finish it up within the next couple of days. I was surprised at how easy it was to make, with only a few points where I had to stop and think…I like that kind of knitting. It was also surprisingly quick, with less than 24 hours of work spent on it I would say.

The decrease for the heel and toe was interesting.  We picked this pattern out of a vintage sock book and Mom said that the pattern was around 1909, so the technique may have been a little different, but it worked.

Onto the next project!

My last post had a picture of the Infant’s Sock that I was going to do for 4-H and my hope chest…but now I have  pictures of my own. I started it on Thursday and then yesterday I worked on it some more. It is a  lovely pattern that reminds us of lace. The pattern called for size 0 needles, but we only had 1’s on hand, so it is a little bigger than its intended size.

Here is a closer look at the pattern…so pretty. Stay tuned for more updates!

In the last half of February my cousins and I went to go make our annual 4-H baskets, though this year, since Breezy has graduated, she was able to make a basket and then be able to take it home and use right away. Emily and I have to kept it safe, clean, and fresh until fair time, and then we have to wait until after State Fair to be able to  bring them home and actually use them for how they were made. Ugh, the only drawback when you do baskets for 4-H.

On the way there, that morning was beautifully covered in a  veil of frozen fog on the tree tops, and the air was brisk and near zero.

Our teacher always has felines that keep us company while we weave, and this year was a new little munchkin named Cheeto. Anywhere from inside our baskets to tangling herself up in bags, she was always near.

This is not the best picture, but it is how my basket turned out. It is a traditional Wool Drying Basket. I can’t wait to have it piled high with skeins of wool ready to be made into items. I have been warned that I shouldn’t put magazines in it because it will ruin the bottom.

Okay, first let me say that today has been rough on me, or rather my pride. Wednesday was check in time, yesterday was judging time, and today was another day of check in and judging. Every year I have been happy with the way that my projects have been judged and only cried once out of seven years; I was little and so were the pathetic radishes I turned in.

Today, however, I allowed my pride to masquerade as high hopes. I wanted to win the Creative Writing with so much of my literary soul. I could almost feel the plaque in my hands, but this morning, I was the recipient of a surprise that dealt a blow to my pride.

I walked into the building, after being surprised at how well my basket fared amongst all of the other crafts, and then my honey beat all of the other bee entries. I must add, that I was the only one in bees, which kind of guarantees the leisure of winning. But then…I saw it. From across the room, the measly ribbons were attached to the card upon my binder of poems and stories. However, the one not among them which I desired above all, was the, easily identified by any dedicated 4-H’er, Best of Show ribbon. For some reason, I felt sick to my stomach and I turned pale. We walked over and I quickly looked for the one that had beaten mine. I looked twice at the ribbons she now possessed and repeatedly looked through her pages in search of the truth, which was in my mind…”can she write better than I “? To the judge, apparently. To me, not really. There was no variation in sentences, no adjectives, only slighted varied uses of the word ’said’, etc.

After realizing that no mistake had been made, I went to go sit down. No tears formed, but I suddenly felt dizzy and laid down on a bench outside. I am very dramatic, I know. For a few minutes, I went over what I had seen and tried to excuse the fact that she may have been better than me. I was devastated in a matter in which I thought I had some promise of success. To me, writing is the only thing I am remotely knowledgeable of as far as a possible talent. And to be slighted so noticeably in the contest of talent and prose, is embarrassing. And for my fellow bloggers, one of my first thoughts was, “Well, I need to think of a new theme for my blog.” After all, I didn’t feel like the painter of words any more.

Anyway, the moral of this rant/post is that after nearly a day of brooding, I have come to terms with my fifteen year old self after puffing away as the seven year old I was earlier. I suppose that my pride is what injured my spirits throughout the day and not the ribbons. I had been caught up in my own success and supposed talent that a few people have encouraged me about, that my confidence, in this one area mostly, overshadowed reality in the light of competition. The judge’s opinion was valued, and my writing lost out to the writings about high school and fitting in. I was joking with my dear cousin, whose support has helped me through this minor trial, that today’s judging was the equivalent of throwing out Little Women to read High School Musical. Not that I compare my writing to Miss Alcott’s, however, it fits my character and writing style.

So, at the end of the day, I am still overpowering my disappointment and pride, while perfecting the humbleness of losing. I have always been the one afraid of the competition for fear of humiliation, but through this ordeal I am slowly accepting the fact that my writing did not appeal to the judge in the way which I had hoped.

The displays are set up and the projects being turned in! One of my favourite times of the year is now just behind that ribbon. Soon the venders will be selling their deliciously greasy food, the animals tempting the young children, the fair rides entertaining screaming riders, and let’s not forget…the imitation Elvis under his country tent. *He scares me.*

Breezy, Emily, and I are happy with our projects and are anxious to see how they fare amongst the others. And tomorrow, my mom is going to enter an apple pie in the adult division. You can see her recipe here. Also tomorrow, we three cousins will be judged and then on Friday I will enter another project and be judged . In case you’re wonderin’ I entered:

*two one pound jars of honey…they are too cute!

*a notebook of Creative Writing…I entered this poem, this poem, a few others, and a short story entitled Miss McGuffy

*a jar of pickled watermelon rinds

*and my Williamsburg Basket

Here we are with cheerful faces with our projects. Auntie Robin didn’t turn in anything though, she’s just standing there looking cute.

On Wednesday, my aunt took Breezy *you can see her basket here*, Emily Rose, and I to our second basket class to finish up our previously started baskets for our 4-H projects. Perhaps a few dedicated readers can remember the basket I made last year? Well, I like this one much more.

Williamsburg Basket

It took me maybe 6 or 7 hours to make in two days. It is simple and is finished in a walnut stain. I simply adore its shape and I can’t stop looking at it and feeling its elegant weave. I must say that basket weaving is probably one of my favourite past times…I suppose I should do it more than once a year.