Dizzy

It began with a diz, or the lack thereof.

This past sunday, I spent a relaxing day with Etherknitter and learned the art of wool combing. I'd bought a set of Indigo Hound 5-pitch english combs about fifteen years ago and am slightly embarassed to admit that I've hardly used them—mainly because I couldn't get the knack of how they work. I've got it now, and I'm finally salvaging the lackluster prep job that was done to a nice border leicester fleece by a mill that shall remain nameless.

Upon returning home I set up the combs, but couldn't find the diz. What's a maker to do? Make a new one.

I rooted around in my (small) wood stash and found a nice slice of black-and-white ebony. This stuff is very dense, and is difficult to cut and work, but it polishes wonderfully.

I now had a fine-looking diz, but I had no (stylish) way of feeding the fiber in. I needed a threader. Back to the stash for some spindles, which I had in maple, cherry, and oak.

After a trip back to the metal studio for some cutting, sanding, bending, and finishing (with the now-infamous tung oil), I had a threader... or four.

But why stop there? Why not make some orifice hooks to go with them? And how about adding some silver accents? Wouldn't these look great in ebony?

I think it's finally time sign up for that woodturning class...