Thursday, July 31, 2008

"My" shop

I don't own it. I don't even work full-time there, only a few hours a month. But, I love Weaver's Webb. And, I love arranging the colors and fibers. I love helping people find what they want. So, I'm starting a series of picture blogs about Weaver's Webb.
Today, we are featuring sock yarn, cottons, and dreambaby.

I love the colors. Or have I said that? I tell people that it's a "touchy feely" store. How can you know whether or not you like a yarn unless you've fingered it?

When we get a shipment of yarn, I usually stay over my normal hours or come in an extra time to help put it away. Some yarn comes in plastic bags, and we ordinarily get two or three bags of 10 skeins each. One bag goes on the shelf with the newer dye lots in the back. Two bags have to be stored, and we don't have a storeroom. All the extra yarn is stacked on top of the racks and around the ledges of the store (you'll see that later). Some yarn, such as Lamb's Pride, is not bagged; so we save our plastic bags from other yarns for storage.

We have so many beautiful sock yarns, and I don't knit socks. I've learned how to knit in the round with two circular needles, but I haven't done but a few rows with sock yarn. We have the Step yarn which has jojoba oil and aloe vera in it to prevent food problems. We have self-patterning yarn which creates a delightful pattern - not necessarily stripes - photos of that later. We have Noro sock yarn which is self-striping. I've bought some of it, but it's in my stash (that's yarn lingo for that wall of plastic drawers in my workroom - and the tub and the various bags of begun projects and the little box by my feet and my work bag). I de-stashed one skein of yarn yesterday - sold it to a young woman who needed just a bit more of a certain color and dye lot, and I had one skein of it here at home. I don't de-stash often.

So now you have an intro to Weaver's Webb, where I work on Tuesdays and sometimes a few hours extra during the week.

Monday, July 28, 2008

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Interview questions from RevGalBlogPals

These questions are from an interview of Singing Owl published on the RevGalBlogPals Please go there and read this interview. This is a very interesting blog, and I enjoy being part of it.

Where do you blog?
23 acres of black dirtYou're here.

What are your favorite non-revgal blog pal blogs? Wounded Bird, Pseudopiskie, Badtux

What gives you joy? Music. Water. Silence. Yarn. Love.

What is your favorite sound? Cat purring

What do you hope to hear once you enter the pearly gates? First you have to believe that the pearly gates exist.

You have up to 15 words, what would you put on your tombstone? She lived. She loved. But, I love what we put on Mom's tombstone in the cemetery of the church that kicked me out for dancing and spurned her after she left my Dad: "Dancing with God, drawing deep breaths of the air of Heaven." (She died of emphysema.)

Write the first sentence of your own great American novel. The hurricane was beating against the sliding glass doors, and she hoped that they lived up to their warranty of stability in 160 mph winds.

What color do you prefer your pen? Black

What magazines do you subscribe too? National Geographic, The Sun, Bead and Button, Oprah, Time, Smithsonian

What is something you want to achieve in this decade? Continue living and being alive in that living.

Why are you cool? Because I have white hair and still do daring things.

What is one of your favorite memories? Being introduced to my partner at the lunch counter where we ate and not remembering anything past her holding out her hand and saying, "Hi, I'm ......" Surely, I must have answered, but I do not remember anything except being in love.

Anything else you've always wanted to be asked? How did you get here from there?

Sunday, July 20, 2008


The sun has set and the glimmer of light caressed the creek and cypress trees. My eyes and the camera were slightly out of focus, but you can see the beauty of this Sunday's eventide.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

My Favorite Necklace

This is the Spanish Inquisition Necklace found at the Smithsonian Institute. Dane A Penland is the photographer, and I copped his image from sharing files of Flickr. You can find a rather complete description of the necklace and its jewels and provenance at The Daily Jewel

Once I had a torn magazine page with this picture on the wall near my jewelry-making table. The page is lost, but the memory of this beautiful piece has lingered with me. Wouldn't I love to have an occasion to wear something like this? And, how many body guards would I need to hire. The information says that Audrey Hepburn wore it to the Academy Awards. Ahhhh. A fitting place for such a beautiful piece.

And once I owned a tiny piece of emerald - uncut, about the size and shape of a large splinter. It disintegrated from being handled roughly in so many moves. Ahhh.

I love blue, and here's a picture of the Hope Diamond, also at the Smithsonian and also photographed by Penland and from Flickr.Somehow the single diamond doesn't convey elegance quite like the emeralds and diamonds. Ahhh.

While I love these two pieces, I really guess that the ones I love most are the ones that I can touch and rub with my fingers and examine the patterns. They are carefully tucked away among my beads, examples of need for beauty and the kinesthetic potencies of such gemstones as malachite, azurite, amethyst and the beautiful agates.

I remember walking into a gem store in, hmmmm, maybe it was Boulder, CO, and gasping at the beauty of a tremendous hunk of barite roses. I went in and was assaulted by what felt like vibrations being given off by the large pieces of crystals and other gemstones. I had to go outside and peer in to see the wonders because I felt so overwhelmed by the vibrations. Silly me. Rocks don't give off vibrations. LOL

So, I enjoy handling small pieces of gemstones, but I don't have a single barite rose - too much vibration in them for me.

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

And, the Good News is.....

One man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years. 6When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be made well?” 7The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; and while I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me.” 8Jesus said to him, “Stand up, take your mat and walk.” John 5:4-8

I am 62 years old, and I have been sick with respiratory problems most of my life. I don't remember when I wasn't sick a lot.

Yesterday, my pulmonologist told me that my lungs were in good shape, my cardio stress test was good, my thyroid was good, my anemia was gone, my asthma was under control, and that basically I am healthy. I have never been told that in all my life! I am healthy.

Then I asked "Why, if I am healthy, my life is a struggle with tiredness and breathlessness?" He told me I needed "de-conditioning". When pressed for a definition, he hemmed and hawed, but eventually inferred that I am overweight and out of shape. Then I heard him begin to lecture me on that...I'm not sure what he said that created that impression for I can't imagine his lecturing me. He is a good and kind man...just not very blunt.

I became ragingly angry. The only thing that is wrong with me is something I have done to myself. It's all my fault. And, I've failed at Weight Watchers, and I don't do enough of the right kind of exercise. And, I am a failure.

I drove the 15 miles home on a back winding road at speeds far above what was safe. I stormed into the house in tears. My partner, who has been saying this for some time, tried to comfort me. There was no comfort.

I have been healed. I am well. Well, except for the things that I do to myself. I'm around enough AA people to know that I have just been twelfth stepped - confronted with my disease - overeating, not exercising. Now the choice is up to me - continue overeating, not exercising and die - or choose to be healed, to be well.

Hey, last night I didn't much want to be well. I'm not sure that I'm willing to do what is necessary to be well. I wanted to die instead; it was too hard.

Someone this morning asked me what changed when I decided to quit drinking. I don't even remember. Seems like I woke up one morning on the floor in my own vomit and decided I didn't want to do that again. After that, alcohol began making me sick when I drank. So I quit.

Now, I'm confronted with a different prospect. I can't give up food as I gave up alcohol. Food is my comfort. Even last night, food was my comfort. I ate three tacos, then went to Dairy Queen and had a small chocolate malt. I felt so much better. I quit crying; I was able to think; I wasn't angry; I didn't hurt. I wish food didn't work as a pain (of all kinds) killer. It's easy to give up a coping mechanism that doesn't work any longer.

Do I want to be well? The verdict is still out on that one. But, for this hour, this minute, the answer is yes.