The View from the Hermitage, Day 319

In the vein of No News Is Good News, I'm going to skip the news today. Why risk spoiling what is left of the day? What shall I write about then? Let's start with the doing something every day that scares you, in other words, weaving. I have something of a history with weaving. When I was in the fourth grade, there was a rather large (to a fourth grader) loom that moved from classroom to classroom. At least in my classroom, when you finished your work you could go weave. I finally had to be barred from weaving. I always got my work done first; it seems that the other kids didn't like that I got to the loom first. I did relinquish it when someone else was ready to use it, but I usually managed to have it for a nice bit of time.     

Fast forward to adulthood. I always somewhat entertained the idea of getting a loom, but always talked myself out of it, money and space being the two counterarguments I used. I did not really know at that point that small looms were a thing. Sometime about 15 years ago, I learned that there was a fiber person who lived just over a mile from me who taught a weaving class twice a year. It was all day for five days and cost what seemed like an extraordinary amount. It was limited to four students. We started with a project for which the instructor had warped a small loom for each of us. I say "small" but the looms were not rigid heddle looms. Finishing that project took about a day and a half, after which we designed our own project, chose or brought yarn for it, and then did it. We used a warping board, about which I remembered very little, and went at it. By the end of the week, I had the first project and my own to take with me. I referred to the class as Weaving Boot Camp because it was pretty demanding. 

A few years ago, I learned about smaller, rigid heddle looms and put one on my Christmas wish list. The Professor and Son #2 got one for me. It's about a yard wide and can sit on a stand. And it sat, un-put-together and unused for a year. I was scared to do anything. Son #2 finally put it together and informed me that he wanted to see something I'd done. I put on my super-hero underpants, got The Professor to help with the warping, and wove something. As part of my merchandise payment for working at the Fall Fiber Festival, I got a small, SampleIt loom as a Christmas present for Son #2. He went crazy, weaving all sort of different types of yarn, planning how to make a jacket, and gave me a hard time for not using my loom as much as he used his. I noted that it sometimes seemed too big, and I couldn't really think of what to weave that wasn't just a sample. 

For my birthday in July he got me the same smaller loom I had given him. He also bought a larger one similar to the one he'd originally given me.  I did a couple of small things on it, and then it sat. I didn't want to bother The Professor to help me warp it; I was scared to try doing that by myself. Son #2 heard that and informed me he used a warping board and would make me one like the one he'd made for himself. And he did. I tried to harness my nerves by acquiring Weaving Made Easy, a book that claimed to be able to have you warping your loom in 20 minutes. Can you see where this is going?

The book arrived on Sunday or Monday, and I took a day or two to read and re-read the sections on direct as well as indirect warping. Yesterday, I got brave enough to give it a try. The warping board that Son #2 had made me looked very unlike the one shown in the book. It took me more time than I care to admit to figuring out how to wrap the yarn so as to get the necessary cross. On the way, I realized that the project I had in mind was above my current skill level, and I should pull some different yarn to work with. (I need to ask Son #2 how he warps with it, because it sounded as if he did it without the all-important or so they say cross.) I finished with the yarn wound on the warping board with the cross. Getting to that point had taken longer than I should admit, so I decided to leave the next part until today.

Today. Let's just say that of everything that could have gone wrong, I did at least half. In the process I decided that I may never again use a warping board. Warping using a warping peg on my own scared me because of keeping the threads straight after they come off the peg and need to be wound on to the rear beam. That is not going to scare me any longer. It beats trying the warping board again at least for now. The loom is ready to go, and I may or may not get to weaving this evening.

That's a very cumbersome description, and the regular commentator who is an excellent weaver has probably rolled her eyes a time of two. After wrestling with the warping for more than three hours this afternoon, I don't have the energy to go for coherence.

The other thing I've been pondering today comes from an article I read noting how the pandemic has made people reconsider friendships. The pandemic, or my reaction to it of self-isolation, has let me see which friends I most miss seeing. Friends versus acquaintances? A fellow quilter says she has friends and Friends; the capital F means they're the special ones. In thinking of the people with whom I had social interaction pre-pandemic, there are some that I would be quite all right staying isolated from. There are a few, though, whom I do miss seeing and want to see again once we're all vaccinated and as safe as we can be. I've been pondering what it is about certain people that puts them in the capital F or non-acquaintance categories. The best I've come up with is that those people understand me better, whether it be because we have similar tastes in various things, similar attitudes, or similar interests. Actually, we probably share more than one of those categories. I'll have to ponder this further.

Not a very thought-provoking post today. Being honest about it, my whole day has been colored by last night's call from my brother with the news that his wife had died. The advanced cancer diagnosis and her decision not to do chemo told them what the eventual outcome would be. They just thought they'd have a bit longer. A nurse did call my brother in the morning and told him not to wait until visiting hours, but to come then; the hospital was around 100 miles away. At least they had the last day together. He lives in Maine, which makes helping him directly difficult. I wish there were something I could do other than tell him to call me any time of day even if it's just to cry over the phone with me. 

Maybe I'll think more clearly tomorrow.