I forced myself to try spinning; it was a disaster. Wool and yarn took on a life of its own and it wasn’t pretty. I was terrified of the spinning wheel. It made me look like a fool and five-year-old Jenaya had mastered it within minutes. Marianne was encouraging, but she had to unwind my mess and toss it. I told myself I could just buy my yarn at the store and that suited me just fine. I was now purchasing from a little yarn store—soft beautiful wools. I didn’t like Red Heart anymore; it didn’t have body or movement and wasn’t all that soft either. Then my husband betrayed me and bought me, Of. All. People. a spinning wheel for Christmas.He was tickled pink; I was green with sick. Now I was forced to learn how to spin because really, you can’t just waste a perfectly good spinning wheel that was a gift, right?
the reluctant spinner
