Highs and Lows…

I grew up in southern NJ, not far from a town called Clementon. They had an amusement park there, and a few times a year, my dad would take the three of us to the Clementon amusement park for the day. ( I checked, it is actually still in existence). I would patiently wait, because I couldn’t go on any rides that spun me around, some structural inner ear issue, I’d immediately start hurling. Motion sickness haunted me as a child. Now there are drugs for that, but mostly I just sat and watched my sisters spinning around in tea cups, the Tilt-a-whirl, and all the other magical rides that make up an amusement park. The merry-go-round was iffy. If I sat on a non-moving horse, and stared straight ahead, I might make it off the ride with my lunch intact. The only real rides that were safe were the Ferris wheel, which only went in one direction, but NO ONE could swing the seat, and of course, my beloved old wooden roller coaster. I loved the roller coaster. That slow climb to the top, barely making it over the crest, and then straight down, breathlessly screaming all the way!

That’s sort of like my last couple weeks.

The day after my last post, the reconstruction guys came and my beautiful music room with the view was complete. I was so very happy, and grateful that something really wonderful came out of a miserable situation. I still have to stain the wood around the new window…

The next day, yeah, not so much. My dryer broke, and when the service man came, he said, Yep, can’t get the parts, you’ll need a new dryer.”

This is something I’ve been dreading for years. I’m a textile artist. The Washer and Dryer are an important part of my design team. I need total control over the function of both. I don’t want appliances smarter than I am, I need to control the water level, I need to be able to open the lid periodically to check on how the fabrics are doing. Wet finishing handwoven fabric is critical.

I’ve heard horror stories from other weavers who have had to replace their washers. In addition to wanting a simple top loading washer, and even though it was the dryer that broke, the washer, actually the pair, were put in when we built the addition, in an alcove off the second floor bedroom, in 1989. So yeah, both were hanging on by a thread. I knew this day was coming, but really, did it have to be the day after the reconstruction was finished? (Ok, fair point, it could have been during the reconstruction…) Sigh…

Further complicating things, according to the repair guy, was that the alcove that housed the pair, was very shallow by today’s standards. He wasn’t hopeful I’d find a dryer that would fit the space. At this point, I’m bordering on having a heart attack…

I went to my local appliance chain, and looked at options. There were washer/dryer sets, like Speed Queen, that would do what I wanted, and not do what I didn’t want, but they didn’t fit the space. They sent a surveyor out the following week to check the space and see if there were any options.

Turns out, my original units were GE Profile. And who knew that GE still made roughly the same pair, same features, and roughly the same size. I ordered, and yesterday, an incredible pair of service technicians hauled my old set away, down two flights of stairs, and had the new set installed, in about 25 minutes. I cannot tell you what a huge relief this is, something I dreaded for years. I’ve done a couple loads and so far so good.

Last weekend, I drove a couple hours up to Newtown CT, where I had agreed to judge The Handweavers Guild of CT biennial fiber show. Denise Kovnat, the other judge and I arrived Saturday evening, and our lovely hostess Jennifer, whom I had never met before, greeted us, showed us around, got us settled, let us preview some of the work, and then we just sat and chatted. Can I tell you what a joy it was to be back with my tribe? Denise, whom I knew of, and had some online interactions with, but didn’t really know well in person, was just a delight, full of stories, adventures, humor and grace. My hostess was the same. We were like old college friends who hadn’t seen each other in 40 years. I needed this weekend away. (And Denise told me that there is a site that ranks blogs, and I’m number 7 in the country for handweaving blogs according to Feedly.com. Who knew!)

Judging is always tough, a huge responsibility, and I needed to give critical feedback on more than 60 pieces. I had a couple of scribes assigned to me, they were hard workers, very accurate, and helped me move the process along. I saw photos today of the exhibit, which was just a beautiful installation, and in one corner, there was a grouping of a couple of my pieces and some of Denise’s work.

I didn’t provide a link to the Handweavers of CT Guild, because apparently their site has some malware my software apps picked up. I’ve let them know. If you can get to the show, it will be up for a month, it is a lovely array of what handweavers do, this is why we do it.

Meanwhile, yesterday was my late husband’s birthday, he would have been 74. There are so many times I wish I could just sit and talk with him, get his opinion of this crazy world we are living in, he was so grounded and informed and thoughtful. In honor of his birthday, every year, I go out and buy pansies, and plant them. First planting of the spring. Such happy little faces on such colorful plants.

And this afternoon, I went into the vegetable garden, and planted a couple flats of spring greens, the lettuces, spinach, arugula, etc. along with collards, kale and chard. And of course peas and parsley. The universe is sending rain tonight, or maybe it is my late husband, since it is still too early to turn on the hoses outside.

And of course, because my life is about putting out fires at this point, we have a raccoon that has moved in, completely trashed the wood shop, and we are doing battle with it trying to catch it and remove it from the property. My vet tech daughter has some experience with this, so she is in charge. We put chicken wire on the underside of the eaves of the shed to prevent reentry, but there is a huge task ahead trying to clean up what looks like a drunken frat party in my woodshop. Every box of nails and screws has been shredded, contents dumped on the floor. Could have been worse, it could have been my yarn.

Each morning I sit by my window, eat my breakfast, and look at the yard, and see the little bit of green that increases every day. I’ve always wanted to do a daily sketchbook journal of sorts, I envy those who, have a committed practice. And though I can draw, I have a degree in fine arts, I don’t find it appealing. I don’t for me see the purpose. Even though I keep buying art supplies, sketchbooks, and take classes.

I participated in something last fall called the Sketchbook Revival. I even paid so I could continue to access the content. There was one session that really struck me as something I could do regularly. Melinda Nakagawa, the session leader uses a fountain pen, which was right up my alley, since I spent 8 years in parochial school writing with a fountain pen, and have actually very fond memories, and she would sketch a plant, a bird, add simple water colors, and write all over the page, thoughts, definitions, plant names, whatever was important that day.

So I sit every morning, with my breakfast, and my sketchbook, and my cat, and my tea, and I sketch something in the yard, something just poking its head up, and I research the common name, the Latin name, the traits, thoughts, and I’m starting to fill my sketchbook…

Oh, and yes, I’m still a weaver! I managed to clear another loom, and I’m keeping this one, a little Rep mat for my dining table.

When I used to travel, I’d always pray that my trips were uneventful. Now I just hope I can get through the days uneventfully. I would like to get off the roller coaster and just walk for a while. It has been going just a little too fast for my taste.

Stay tuned…