Stumbled across this Kona/Aurifil .pdf somewhere. Great chart!
Eleven pages of wonderfulness.
I noticed Red Rock Threads in NV has a blog post that describes the suggested use of each weight.
The subtitle on this book reads "The Classic Kitchen Maid's Memoir That Inspired Upstairs, Downstairs and Downton Abbey". Margaret Powell's account of entering service at 13 because there were too many children in the house begins this adventure. Her Mom had been in service herself. Similar to last week's book review, I was surprised to find how differently the houses, the rules, the expectations and the work was. I also thought about how many times certain staff were promised something but ended up with nothing.
Currently we are on chapters 4 and 5 where we have discovered what a profile draft is and how it can be woven on either 4 or 8 shafts with an even or uneven block. This will be an overshot design.![]() |
| DH calculating our bill! |
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| My dessert sampler |

Haussner’sHas it already been five years since Haussner’s served its last slice of strawberry pie? When what might have been Baltimore’s most famous restaurant- or surely its most unique- closed in 1999, faithful patrons flocked from London to Arizona to eat sauerbraten and hasenpfeffer among the restaurant’s famous art collection one last time. That art collection fetched $11 million at Sotheby’s and the famous ball of string more than $8,000 at a local auction.
Owner William Haussner was an infamous stickler when it came to service: rolls were not to be called “buns,” single diners were always seated immediately- even if there was a line- and every meal was to be plated with a parsley garnish. As the story goes, when Haussner’s diabetes finally took his sight, waitresses would sit him down at a table so he could run his hand over the white tablecloths to check their smoothness. He died in 1963, leaving the restaurant to his wife, Frances.
You could find nearly anything on Haussner’s menu, of course: picked beef aged in vinegar and wine in wooden casks, diamondback terrapin, pig’s knuckles, not to mention kangaroo and whale. “It’s of the type that used to be called 'continental,’” displaced Baltimorean Stephen Hunter wrote in The Washington Post, describing Haussner’s food. “It flies from the fork to your arteries like a bat, leaking an oil slick of pure calories and enough cholesterol to kill your heart in a second.”
On its last day in business, Sept. 21, 1999, hundreds of patrons waited for a table in the cold rain. There were two people in wheelchairs, one pulling an oxygen tank and another whom brought an IV drip that waitresses attached to a coat rack at his table. “We’re not pretentious,” daughter Francie Haussner said in an interview during the restaurant’s final week. “Nouvelle cuisine passed right over Highlandtown.”