Morning thoughts.

I've had two students in two weeks, making my brain work.  It's a change from mindless weaving in a quiet studio.  I like it though, it requires me to pay attention, and the reward of having a new weaver born is so worth it.
My favorite part is when they throw that shuttle for the first time, on a warp that they have wound, sleyed, threaded, and beamed on.  Priceless.
And I get to meet new people, most of whom love being here.  That's a plus.

The garden is planted, and I have taken to getting out there at 6 ish every morning, spending just a half hour weeding and checking things out.  It always gets ahead of me, every year, and I have vowed that this year, it will not.

The idea of letting the lawn grow wild never panned out.  DH bought a second hand riding mower, and has taken over mowing the biggest parts of the lawn.

When I am up at the crack of dawn, I mow about 20 minutes.  That seems to be working.  The idea of not mowing a marathon appeals to my "neck" and gets the job done, a bit every day.   It seems like that approach applies to a lot of things, as I get older.   I take jobs that I would have done in one fell swoop, and break them up into doable pieces.  It means........to me.......that I won't pay the price with a slamming headache from putting my neck through hell.
Oh, how smart I've become in my elder years.

I am weaving on a towel warp, one that I do not like as well as the one before it.  That's always a challenge, to get through it, when it is not moving me.

They look much better on the loom, after the towels were washed, they were not as exciting to me.

Luckily, changing the dobby is not that hard.

For whatever reason, this moves me.

I guess that flower basket wore her out, cause she obviously needs a break.

Love that girl.

From dawn to dusk

I am up at the crack of dawn.  No kidding.

Part of it is just me, and all those years of working as a nurse and having to be at the prison 25 miles away, at 6:45 a. m.

And part of it is Jinksie.  She has taken to sleeping with me most of the night, leaving at some point, and coming back to my bedroom door to cry and cry at 5:30 ish.

Once I'm awake, I'm up.

 But oh, how I love early morning.

Miss Puss is on a 12 hour feeding and insulin schedule, so she is on me like glue as soon as I come downstairs.  She gets mean if I am not as quick about it as she would like, hissing and batting at my ankles.  Not a pleasant way to get up.

Once she has eaten, and gotten her shot, she takes a morning nap on the couch, at my feet, and you would think she was the sweetest thing ever.

In the studio:

My Circles baby wrap with silk weft is finished and off to NYC to its happy owner.

I enclosed a note, saying that I hope she loved the wrap as much as I loved weaving it, and I meant that.
It was joyful to me.

The two sides are so different.   I wonder when I will tire of this Circle pattern that I have come up with.
I have been asked where I found the draft.  The answer is that I didn't.  I just played around at the loom with the treading sequence until I liked it.
Half assed, my father would say.

I am still into yellow, it seems.   L and I just put this warp on the AVL for towels, and she threaded it through the heddles.

Weaving starts tomorrow.

Have to get ready for the Beekman Street fair, in Saratoga Springs, NY, on June 12th.

I just had my hip injected, again, so it is feeling better.   Not sure how much good it will do, but hoping for the best.

It doesn't help that there is so much work to do outside.  Trying to get the garden tilled and planted, and get things cleaned up out there.

I find that I am quite happy to stay home day after day.  There is just so much to do here, I don't have the need lately to wander off.

I was weaving the other day, and realized that the last time I felt such peace in the place where I live, was when I lived in my little farm house up north, 12 years ago.

It's a good thing to feel comfort in your home.   There's actually nothing that quite compares to it.

When I see refugees who have lost everything, and have no place to call home, it breaks my heart, and I am beyond grateful for my own place in this world, however humble.

I always think that I want to travel, but then I get on the road, and wish I were home.

I love it here, what can I say?

Change

It's been a while, and my only excuse is that I have been busy.
How did I ever work 40-50 hours a week as a nurse??

My 6 month dental deal is finally over, got my NEW BRIDGE at last.

And no, I have no idea why I was taking a selfie AND talking on the house phone at the same time.
Insane.

Roy does not have that problem.  He is the KING of comfy.

The nights have been cool, so the pellet stove is still in use.

During the day, Roy watches me  while I weave.

This baby wrap is on its way to London.

You probably know by now that I love to bake.

For 26 years I have been cooking on this old Tappan range.  I bought it for $75 from the estate of my 6th grade teacher.

It was an awesome stove, and I loved it dearly for all those years.

I thought I would always have it.

But lately, I have had to rethink it.   It always smelled of gas.  You can't buy the parts for it anymore.  The oven wouldn't stay lit.  Often, I had to get down on the floor and relight the oven.  The oven is small, and you can't fit a regular size cookie sheet in it.

I have always worked around that. 

But the other day, it wouldn't keep the oven temperature up.  It took three times as long, and a higher temp, to cook a tray of cookies.

I thought long and hard, and decided it was time.

So as pretty as she was, she is gone.

In her place, NOT SO PRETTY, but oh so much more efficient.

Convection oven.

Self cleaning.

Gas cooktop, with huge extra burner in the center.

LIGHT in the oven.

NO gas smell.  NO worry.

Don't hate me.  I already feel guilty enough.

The other night, we decided to take Roy in my husband's truck to pick up something.

He sat in the back, and he whined and whined.   

Finally, this stupid human GOT IT.

I got in the back, he sat in HIS SEAT in the front, like he always does when DH takes him for a ride or they go for a dump run.

No more whining, content, actually fell asleep on the way home.

But the look. O.M.G.

"Sorry, Mom".