Master of the House…

At my husband’s funeral in June, many of my husband’s friends approached my 20 something son and clapped an arm around him and said, “Son, you are now the man of the house!”  It sort of freaked him out, and I had to sit down with him that night and explain that people mean well when they say things like that, but I assured him as strongly as I could, that his life was his to lead, and that the care and feeding of his mother should not on the top of his agenda.  I am a strong competent female and I am completely capable of caring for myself, this house, and the things that are my responsibility.  It is who I am.  His job was to move on, move out and start his own life and legacy.

And so, in spite of the fact that I haven’t blogged for well over a month, I am here dear readers and supporters, and my days, when I’m not on the road, are spent being just that, Master of the House.  My House.  The one my husband and I built together from the inside out, way back in 1982.  The stuff in my house is my responsibility to sort through and clean out, (though Brianna has been incredible in this), and I get to call the shots.  My life is a series of contractors, repair people, lawn maintenance people (though the one I hired doesn’t seem to be doing his job…), tech support, etc.  I returned from North Carolina to find two toilets broken and a heating system no longer responding to a thermostat, in essence “on” all the time, in spite of pulling the batteries and disabling the thermostat.  Fortunately I have a good plumbing guy that spent the afternoon fixing all my plumbing needs.  He fixed the toilets and replaced the broken zone valve on the boiler.  All is well.

I returned from TN and found one of the ponds empty, the pump sucking air, and a hand full of fish swimming around in basically a bucket full of water at the bottom.  Leaves and debris had clogged a spillway and all the water spilled out the side of it instead of down the chute.  Sigh.  But I fixed the problem and in spite of the rainy day, the pond is holding.  Score!

I have so much to share with you, to tell you dear readers and I had hoped I’d be able to put up a blog post before I left last week for TN.  Then that happened.  The rhetoric and vitriol has made me want to stay far away from the internet and keep any comments or feelings I have to myself.  But I can’t begin to write again without any acknowledgement of events that seemed to have torn our nation apart, and so, in the spirit of a creative soul who finds inspiration in that which surrounds me, I will attempt to share my opinion.

There is no denying that this year has been hell, for many reasons, especially for me with the tragic loss of my husband.  The pitting of brother against brother, friend against friend, neighbor against neighbor is sad.  Life is so short.  And we are a thinking people, and we are so way beyond this.  The United States has weathered many hurdles in its short life, and dear readers, I trust we will weather this one.  We are “…one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”  Except we have become divided and there are many in this great country who don’t feel they have liberty and justice.  Easy for me to say, I’m white, upper middle class, but I’m a female.  I worked for corporate America for two years post college in the 1970’s, for minimum wage, and I left when I discovered that the only male employee made 25 cents more an hour than the female workers.  I started my own business and never looked back.  My first credit card upon graduation was sent in the mail, unsolicited, from Citibank, made out to Mr. Daryl Lancaster.  I used the card, established credit, and then told them that I was in fact female.  I remember.  We have come so far, yet we have so far to come.

I did vote, but I cannot in good conscience judge those who voted differently than I did, or who voted for a third party, or didn’t vote at all.  They all have their reasons.  I am not involved in politics, and don’t wish to be.  That’s why we have elected officials.  Half of those who voted made a decision that though I don’t agree with, I will respect.  I can only hope that I am wrong and we will be a stronger nation because of it.  Because that’s how we have survived as a nation for the last 250 years.  But I can do something.  Besides being master of my own house, I can be master of who I am as a person.  I can be the most civil, kindest person I can be.  I can smile, reach out, and be part of the solution, not part of the problem.  I found myself in the last days of the election, determined to be that person who let someone cut in line, who smiled and said something kind and complimentary to a complete stranger, slowed up for a driver that seemed confused and was in the wrong lane, was kind and patient to the frustrated or stressed shop keeper, nurse, hotelier, waiter/ess, or to anyone who crossed my path in any particular day.  I supported my local businesses where I could, supported my local craftsmen/women, both the plumber and the artist, and treated others the way I wanted to be treated.  There is little in life I can control except my behavior. And the way I see life.  I am saddened by what I read on the internet, and what I see when I catch a glimpse of CNN in an airport.  Donald Trump does not get to put a green light on bad behavior.  My mother taught me better than that.

And so dear readers, I will resume blogging shortly, there are lots of great photos and workshops to share, and this is about how I integrate fiber into my life, and how I live my life as an artist and craftsman.  And now that I have finished traveling for the year, I am ready to roll up my sleeves and dive into my studio and start plowing through some of that amazing stash (of which I added to on my recent trip to TN)…

Stay tuned.