Depression Tips™

learning to spin on a drop spindle: a beginner’s lengthy yet comprehensive guide

I put this monograph together for a friend, but many other people wanted to read it as well, so here it is !

Fig A: Parts of a Drop Spindle. (image source. notes are mine). Apologies in advance for the lack of image descriptions–for the most part I use them because I can’t figure out how to describe the thing in words, so describing the images is kinda the whole issue. If anyone wanted to write them for me I’d add them to the original post in a heartbeat !

How to Get Started Drafting and Spinning

So, you have your fiber and your spindle–now what ?

Keep reading

OK So with the shit with the USPS going on:

1. Check your Voter registration to make sure everything is up to date.  If you can, request a Mail-In Ballot.  I live in CO, where all elections are Mail-In only now, so I get one anyway.

2. Fill out your ballot per the instructions on your Ballot.  Some Notes:

Read Instructions thoroughly, and fill out your Ballot in private.

Do NOT post pictures of your Ballot as this may invalidate it.  DO Post pictures of your “I Voted” sticker.

Make sure to vote for all the offices up for election- as important as the presidential election is, your mayor, governer, local school board and sherrif have a MUCH bigger impact on your immediate safety and quality of life.  Google your candidates, look up the Leauge of Women Voter’s Guides for a reliably Impartial rundown of your local candidates. 

Remember also that it is better to have someone in office that is only moderately incompotent, than it is to have someone that actively wants you dead.  It is the first step to having someone worthwhile next time.

If you wanted a third party option, your local elections are the best place to do this- my own city council has several Green Party members and it got me city-sponsored single-stream recycling! Its also moving the state legislature significantly farther left.

3. INSTEAD OF MAILING IT- LOOK UP WHERE YOUR BALLOT DROP-OFF LOCATIONS ARE. 

They’re boxes you drive or walk or bus or bike or whatever up to and drop your ballot in, and the elections officials will have it that evening. Pros of Ballot Drop-Off:

Can be turned in the same day you reccive your ballot, if you want to get this over with ASAP

Open 24/7, so you can drop it off whenever

Absolutely guaranteed to get your vote counted, regardless of what Donald does with the Post Office.

No waiting in line

No exposing yourself to the coronavirus

Most cities will have several ballot Drop-Off locations, at places like the grocery store, the county courthouse, city hall, at high schools etc.  Google your town or county name and “Ballot Drop Off Locations” and it’ll give you directions even.

Absolutely Save the USPS, but this is the BEST way to make sure your vote gets counted this

A collection of Ways to Tie a Necktie

Our other collections:

How to fold a shirt

Choosing a suit that fits

6 ways to tie a Scarf

You know at least two of those are poisonous, right?

Nature’s Food Photo dump💕

A magpie doing his part to save the planet

making chinese lantern - bunny lantern, tiger lantern, flower lantern by 香香手工教程

RB if you think CD drives in computers are not obsolete, but in fact still necessary, despite being artificially phased out

One of my absolute favourite tcw tropes is Ahsoka and Anakin sharing one poor, tired braincell and Rex playing the part of the frazzled babysitter with fried nerves trying to corral these two idiots

Ok, but in Hawks verse, Mail spikes his hair, so it looks like little horns all over his head. Horns that match placement of his zabrak horns. 😈

“You know this is the less flammable one, right?” Jesse asks, even as he scans the can of hair spray.

The boy in front of his register, just about his age but wearing about twice as many chains on his person as Jesse privately thinks is necessary, gives him a scathing look and slaps a bill down on the counter.

“It’s for hair,” he says, like Jesse is an idiot for even assuming there might be another reason he’s buying it. It’s his voice that catches Jesse's attention, though, soft and dark, and Jesse very determinedly doesn’t have a reaction as he bags the water bottle, sandwich, hairspray, and candy bar and takes the money.

“Well, yeah,” Jesse says, and checks the total. Frowns, and then checks it again. “But that’s not why most people buy it.”

Golden eyes narrow, and the boy looks from Jesse to the bag on the counter. “Is there a problem?” he asks pointedly.

“You're five bucks short,” Jesse says, and pretends very hard that he doesn’t see the boy’s expression twist with something between rage and shame, how he doesn’t even try to reach for the wallet that Jesse saw was otherwise empty. But—

He was going to get one of Charger’s sandwiches for lunch, and he already paid Rex for it, so if he just…skips, that’ll cover it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jesse says, and very deliberately tucks the receipt into the pocket of his apron. “I've got it covered.”

Instantly, the boy bristles. “I don’t want your charity,” he says dangerously, leaning across the counter like he’s going to grab Jesse and deck him.

Jesse just scoffs, because this guy is tall and whipcord lean and muscular, but he’s got nothing on Kix when he’s coming out of an exam binge. “Great,” he says. “Good for you. Just take the damn bag and get out of my line, I'm on the clock.”

The boy glances behind himself automatically, taking in the tall, hooded figure who’s waiting back by the stand of trail mix. With a hiss of aggravation, he grabs the bag, turns on his heel, and stalks out of the general store.

“You're welcome!” Jesse calls after him, but the only response he gets is an aggressive jangle of the bells over the door as it slams shut.

Quietly, Rex's big boyfriend approaches the counter, setting his pile of granola bars down on it beside a bottle of water. “Are you all right?” he asks, and a flicker of pale eyes between Jesse and the door makes Jesse smile.

“I'm fine,” he tells Jon, and then, “Rex said he told you to at least get a sandwich if you're going hiking.”

“I'm fine—” Jon starts.

“There had better not only be granola bars on that counter!” Rex calls from the stockroom, and Jesse hides his grin as Jon winces.

“One sandwich?” he asks, smirking.

Jon pauses, flicking a glance at the still-swaying bells above the door and then at him. “Make it two,” he says softly. “Which is your favorite?”

Jesse swallows, and—having a vague crush on his brother’s boyfriend is the most predictable, ridiculous teenage thing in a lifetime that hasn’t been anything like ordinary, but Jesse doesn’t know that he would have skipped it. It’s nice. Just—as long as no one else ever finds out. Including Rex. Particularly Rex.

“Turkey,” he says, and Jon gives him a small smile and inclines his head.

“Two turkey, then,” he agrees, and Jesse rings him up, the boy and his voice and his golden eyes almost completely out of mind.

  Jesse is halfway through a mind-numbing shift that makes his grandfather’s assigned essay on ancient Mandalorian clan migrations look fascinating in comparison—which is the only reason he’s halfway through it when Jaster doesn’t want it until next Monday—when the bell over the door chimes. He’s in the middle of wrestling with a sentence, but no one immediately calls for his help, so he keeps writing, listening for the footsteps that will undoubtedly retreat into the shelves.

But they don’t. instead, there's a long pause, and then they approach the counter.

“You,” a very familiar voice says, low, dark, and something prickles down Jesse's spine as he jerks his head up to see the boy from the other day standing on the other side of the counter. Golden eyes lock with his, then narrow, and the boy says almost accusingly, “You are the one from the other day.”

“It’s not like anyone else works weekday afternoons in here,” Jesse says, rolling his eyes. Looks him over, and then says, “Hey, I guess you really did use it for your hair.”

“Of course I did,” the boy says sharply, and puts a hand up to touch the spikes his hair has carefully been styled into. They're kind of cute. Jesse doesn’t really have a type, but—thig guy isn't not his type. Even if he is wearing a lot of black.

Jesse just shrugs. “My brothers in the fire department are grateful. You’d be surprised how many people come out here to start fires.”

The boy pauses, weighing this, and then says abruptly, “I am Maul.” And then, like it physically pains him to get the words out, “Thank you.”

Whatever effect that gratitude might have is promptly ruined by the face he pulls.

Jesse stares at him for a moment, then bursts out laughing. He leans back in his chair, snickering, and says, “Now we both just feel awkward. Did someone put you up to saying that?”

Maul scowls at him. “Of course not,” he retorts, and drops a ten on top of Jesse's laptop. “For your troubles.”

“If it was trouble I wouldn’t have done it,” Jesse says, and pushes the bill back. “My family owns the store. It’s fine.”

Maul glares like he’s about to protest, and he very pointedly doesn’t retrieve the money. Before he can say anything, though, Jesse raises his hands in surrender. “Look, I'm on my lunch break in like ten minutes, if you want to pay me back, just buy me lunch or something.”

For a long moment, Maul stares at him with narrowed eyes. “And take you somewhere romantic to eat it, I suppose,” he scoffs.

Jesse gives him a smirk. “If you want to go that far I'm going to need more than a sandwich,” he retorts, and Maul looks away with a disgusted huff.

He does buy Jesse a sandwich, though. And he even throws in a bag of chips when Jesse offers to buy their sodas, so apparently he’s not quite as angry as he looks.

The spiked hair is still cute, but Jesse gets a feeling saying that won't be welcome, so he keeps his mouth shut.

[On AO3]