Golden Graham

Or, in the immortal words of Carl Spackler, a little something for the effort.







Graham Lamb is a sheep of many talents - most involve (mis)use of power tools, ladders, lock picking and general mayhem. He also grows pretty wool. That I never get to keep for myself. He's quite popular...if you don't have to live with him ;-).



His (mostly Bluefaced Leicester) fleece is almost long enough to be considered a "long wool", but not long as in Buddy, Woolliam, Rebecca Boone, Keebler long. They are all due to be re-shorn sometime next month.



If we sheared finer fleeced Graham with them, I'm not sure he'd grow out enough to get ready for winter. His fleece this past spring though was getting to be border line too long. Alice had a devil (common theme with Graham) of a time picking it out.







So, I decided to shear him early, myself, so he'd have extra time to grow out. And since it was only about 3 1/2 inches long, I really couldn't sell it. Right? That's my story and I'm sticking to it.



This was actually several days ago, but Graham's the only one counting. And don't get all excited thinking this is what he looks like. That was the next to the skin side of his fleece.







This is more accurate. The almost black parts. He's a bit of very much a dirt ball. Isn't it amazing how dirty they are on the outside and how clean they are underneath?



Most of Graham is curly, but he has different crimpy locks around his neck, possibly due to his numerous Homer Simpson stranglings.



Just kidding.



Sort of ;-).







It washes up nice.







And fluffs out soft as a angel's, um, butt.







I ran a sample through the coarse cloth Louet drum carder.







And added some gold glitz.



And then a little more because if there was ever a sheep who could pull off "ghetto", it would be Graham. I used the finer cloth Strauch carder for blending and it was exciting pulling it off the drum.







Again with the glitz not showing up in pictures. Really, there's gold in that there batt.



And I'll enjoy getting a chance to spin it myself.



So I got that goin' for me. Which is nice.*

*Carl Spackler: So I jump ship in Hong Kong and I make my way over to Tibet, and I get on as a looper at a course over in the Himalayas.

Angie D'Annunzio: A looper?

Carl Spackler: A looper, you know, a caddy, a looper, a jock. So, I tell them I'm a pro jock, and who do you think they give me? The Dalai Lama, himself. Twelfth son of the Lama. The flowing robes, the grace, bald... striking. So, I'm on the first tee with him. I give him the driver. He hauls off and whacks one - big hitter, the Lama - long, into a ten-thousand foot crevasse, right at the base of this glacier. Do you know what the Lama says? Gunga galunga... gunga, gunga-lagunga. So we finish the eighteenth and he's gonna stiff me. And I say, "Hey, Lama, hey, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know." And he says, "Oh, uh, there won't be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness." So I got that goin' for me, which is nice.