I can't complain.

First, just a loud thank you to Sharon, over at In Stitches for these wonderful bars of soap. You cannot imagine how great they smell, and I can't wait to use them.

From Crazy as a Loom

I am trying to slowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww it down around the studio. I take my time, and I am making a concerted effort to not make unreasonable demands on myself. I get it. I really do. And I really appreciate all the kind words and encouragement from all of you.

I did a little weaving, some fun stuff. A natural warp, and a huge bin of mixed fabric. It is like a blank canvas to me, and I love it.
I couldn't help but think about gratitude today.
With all the news of the poor, poor people in Haiti, how can you not be grateful for the life you have.
Sure, I have complaints. Doesn't everyone?

OK, my soup got too hot in the microwave, and then when I let it sit for awhile, I waited too long, and it got cold.
The chips were great, but I ate too many of them, and I should have had enough will power to throw them right in the garbage. But I didn't. (they were SO good)
While I was trying to refill the bird feeder, I dropped the whole thing, and lost the top of it in the snow, the part that it hangs from. So now the feeder is out of service until I figure it out.
The squirrels won't leave me alone, they eat more than the birds do. They are so fat, they should be counting points every day.

From Crazy as a Loom

I have some gorgeous 8/2 cotton for dish towels, but I don't have the energy it takes to figure it out, and put the warp on a loom, so I can weave them.

From Crazy as a Loom

Yes, my neck hurts, my ear hurts, the medication makes me tired.
It's cold, the sun barely came out all day.
I tried to tie some fringe, but some one was NOT very cooperative. (do you want your tail tied into the fringe???? DO YOU??????)

From Crazy as a Loom

I took a nap, but the phone woke me up.
I had to stop at the grocery store, and I really didn't feel like it.

Oh, the trials and tribulations.

From Crazy as a Loom

I can't even think of what the people of Haiti are going through. I hope that everyone in this country sends whatever they can to the rescue efforts.
And I hope that gratitude takes on new meaning to all of us who have so much more.

For your own good.

From Crazy as a Loom

I have debated about whether or not to talk about what is going on in my life right now. It seemed unnecessary to go into it, and I thought it would be over and done with, and I could just forget about it. Not so.
Yesterday made that abundantly clear.

Two days after Christmas, I had this incredible ear ache. It was so bad, that the next morning I called the doctor and asked if they could fit me in.
They did, and told me it was probably the beginning of an ear infection. I started an antibiotic, but a couple of days later, I was worse. And on top of it, I had blisters on the back of my head, under my hair.
So I went back to the doctor, and they confirmed what I already suspected, I have shingles.


Shingles (also termed herpes zoster) is a disease caused by reactivation of the herpes zoster virus (varicella-zoster virus, or VZV) that results in a painful localized skin rash, usually with blisters (fluid filled sacks) on top of the reddish skin. This same virus causes the childhood illness chickenpox. The chickenpox virus (varicella) remains in a dormant state in the body in the root of nerves that control sensation. In about one out of five people, the virus "wakes up," often many years after the chickenpox infection. The virus then travels along a sensory nerve into the skin and causes shingles. The majority of patients who get shingles are over the age of 60; it infrequently occurs in younger people. Investigators estimate that about 1 million cases of shingles occur per year in the U.S.

I have shingles that affect the facial nerve, and they went into my ear. I was told that I 'might' have some facial paralysis.
Can you see it now....every morning, me making faces in the bathroom mirror, just to see if everything is working as I am accustomed to???

So, I was started on several meds: Famcyclovir, Prednisone, Hydrocodone, and Neurontin.
OK. Helluva way to go, Hilary.
But I dispensed with my usual lousy attitude regarding the ingestion of medication, and I committed myself to being a good girl. Something I am notoriously bad at.
The only patients worse than nurses, are doctors.
The first several days were a blur. The hydrocodone pretty much knocked me for a loop, and I took naps every day. Eventually, I changed to Motrin for the pain, and that seemed to do it. I actually felt pretty good.
With a few modifications, I continued on with my daily routine.
My husband did suggest to me that I might slow down a bit, and take it easy.
But oh, no.............not me. That wasn't on my agenda.
After 10 days, the Famcyclovir, an antiviral, was done. So in my infinite wisdom, I decided I was all better now, and I weaned myself off the Neurontin (for nerve pain), as well.
A couple of nights ago, the eye on that same side, felt like it had a wood splinter in it. Not good.
Yesterday it got worse and worse, so this morning, I called the doctor.
After a morning spent at the doctor's office, and then the opthamalogist's, I was put back on the Famcyclovir, and the Neurontin.
Back to square one, you might say.
Let me add that the pain of shingles is somewhere between the flame of a blow torch, and the whack of a steel pipe. The right side of my neck, the back of my head, my ear, my eye, my temple; well, just let's say they are the source of misery that is ongoing.
But the real point here is:
There is a vaccine, called Zostavax, and if you are over 60, you can prevent all of this from happening to you.
Now I know a lot of you are WAY younger than this. But some of you aren't. And some of you are creeping up on that magical number.
So here it is, free, my advice. GET IT! Go see your doctor, and ask about it. Be proactive. Such a simple thing........I wish I had done it.
Instead, I have probably several weeks ahead of me, hopefully getting better all the time.

And just for the record, I am not one bit shy about stating my age to be 62. It is a wonderful age, and it sure as hell beats the alternative.

From Crazy as a Loom

YES

From Crazy as a Loom

It's true, I am trying to influence you with color.
The other Hilary did it.....with blues. And I loved them. Over at Smitten Image.
Just when I was thinking she was going to reveal some deep, dark depression, she sprung those lovely pics at me.
But nothing much colorful in this neck of the woods. Snow, ice, gray clouds. Occasionally, a bright sunny day, but alas, not much color.
But that is SO not the case inside the studio.....thank goodness for that. Color abounds. And if I can't find enough of it, I go in search.
I open plastic bins in the attic, paw through each one, looking for colors that move me. Luckily for me, I have enough fabric, that I can't remember what I have. So I am frequently surprised.

I don't have any Photoshop talents, like my blog idol, Kate, over at Chronicles of a Country Girl.
She takes great pictures, and then plays with them to turn them into art.
I take pictures and if they turn out OK, it is just dumb luck. And I have no skills that would help me to improve apon them.

But I am content. I am a weaver, and mostly a rag rug weaver. Other than a basic course several years ago, I am self taught, with a lot of help from Chris over at Homestead Weaver.

I think I am getting better at what I do, and working smarter, which is encouraging. And every time I teach someone to weave, I find out that I know more than I thought.

From Crazy as a Loom

I haven't got anything else tonight. It's Sunday, and I actually took the day off. I made chicken and biscuits, and had my daughters all here for dinner. I didn't accomplish much else. But that was enough.

Tomorrow, back to blue jean runners.

From Crazy as a Loom

New Age

From Crazy as a Loom

OK, tell me this doesn't say Mexicosunshinewarmbreezessummer????
I know, I know, the weatherman says cold,cold, cold this weekend, and I have lost it.


Last night was dinner and a movie (date) with my honey.
We saw "It's Complicated", with Alec Baldwin, and Meryl Streep. What a feel good movie.

And I made an impulsive purchase when we were cruising the mall, before the movie. I have been thinking about it for a long time. and even though I just wanted to look at them in Target, I ended up buying an Ipod Touch. Then I stayed up until midnight, cursing it, and the stupid ITunes site, and all technology period.
I finally gave it up, and went to bed. Had a busy day today.
Tammy and I had a custom rug to weave. I was ready, fabric all cut, warp tied on and ready.
And as usual, we rocked!!!!!
We have woven so many of these big rugs together, we just do it. We don't have to even talk about it....in fact, we talk about pretty much everything else.
And we finished the rug.

From Crazy as a Loom

And tonight, I have downloaded my first MUSIC onto my Ipod, some feel good Sade.
Feel good movies, feel good music. Almost mid January, gotta find feel good wherever you can. It certainly isn't in the weather.
Now that I have my new toy figured out, I can find podcasts I want to listen to when I am weaving. I guess I am not that challenged after all.

It might be colder tomorrow, but there will be bright rugs, and good music at Crazy as a Loom.

Day to day

These cold days seem to run into one another.......my life seems boring and mundane....same thing day after day.

From Crazy as a Loom

"Didn't we go through this just yesterday? I am NOT moving. Get over it."

My life is made up of cats and looms, looms and cats. I get up in the morning, and I'm on the road to the studio a little after 8am. Like a regular workday. On arrival, of course, breakfast is the first order of business. Theirs, not mine. Food, fresh water, litter box maintenance.
Whew.
A cuppa tea.
Pellets in the stove, check messages, emails.
Same thing I did yesterday.
My life is uneventful, repetitious, not very exciting.

Get real. I love every minute of it. Don't let ME kid you.

The Coffee House on Sirius, or NPR, whichever rows my boat, cats who amuse me and even sometimes offer physical affection, a dozen looms all warped and ready to go. All day long, I do whatever I WANT TO DO.
NO BOSS. NO TIME RESTRICTIONS. NOBODY TELLING ME WHAT TO DO.
WOW.
This is life after retirement. This is my second life, my second career, the one I have been waiting for, dreaming of.
I love every day I spend at the studio, every single day.
First of all, I love the house, this 200+ year old house with such an incredible personality. I love every board, every window, every imperfection.
And if today I want to weave shawls, I will, and if I decide after lunch, I want to take a nap, or maybe I want to weave placemats, OR NO, maybe I want to cut fabric, or sew fabric, or maybe I want to just sit in front of the stove and cuddle Jinx....then that is what I do.
As DH says, I won't live long enough to weave all the fabric I have....he thinks that is bad. HA!
It is a world that I have imagined, and here I am.
Sweet.

From Crazy as a Loom

"Can we talk?"

From Crazy as a Loom

"I LOVE your rugs, have I told you that?"

From Crazy as a Loom

Jinx, are you laughing at me???


And there you have it, from Crazy as a Loom.

Landlords. Mine.

From Crazy as a Loom

"I told ya, I ain't moving....so just tie your fringe, and learn to live with it."

(Do you catch that LOOK???? OMG.
I am sure now that these four cats run the studio, and they just let me come and weave, and ACT like it is mine.
That's the REAL deal.)

Well, the rug is pretty, anyway. You can tell, I am still thinking spring.

From Crazy as a Loom

OK, now I am going to take a picture of that pretty red and pink Valentine's rug.......uh, excuse me.
Could you move??



"In a minute, I'm just laying down here, for crying out loud. What's your rush? I'm liking this color. How do I look????"

"I am not doing anything, I'm not, I swear it. THIS time, I am INNOCENT."

From Crazy as a Loom

"Likely story, don't believe her. She's up to something."

From Crazy as a Loom

So this is how it really is. They are in charge, and they just put up with me. They are waiting for me every morning, to be sure, but that is because I am in charge of the FOOD. After that, they follow me around on their schedule, and they RULE.
They have their own little pecking order, and I am part of it.
I just didn't want to admit it.
But tis true.

One day at a time.

From Crazy as a Loom

Even though it is in the single digits, I just finished some lightweight cotton shawls, that speak to me of summer nights. Trouble is, they don't speak loudly enough to make me forget winter.
They are pretty though.....I made three of them, all the same warp, with different wefts. They are plain weave and Bronson lace, for anyone who wants to know.
I am thinking of making more in different colors.
What do you think??

With my fine inventory skills, I realized that I had two 4'x6' wool Solmate sock rugs that didn't make my web site. Kind of hard to sell them, if you don't put them up. I have to admit that I fall somewhat short of perfect with keeping track of what I have, and what I don't have. It causes me problems sometimes. I am working on improvement in that category. Trouble is, there are so many categories, and so little time.
If you know what I mean.

This morning was taken up with taking my mother to the doctor, and by the time I got back to the pharmacy when her prescriptions were ready, and I got to the studio, it was 1pm. Not my usual. But I was determined to stay in a positive frame of mind. So I had a salad for lunch, and got to work.
I had the Weaver's Friend warped and threaded, and I am in a red and pink mode.
So here you have it. Kind of puts me in the mood for Valentine's Day.

From Crazy as a Loom

Looking out the window, spring seems far away. The setting sun was throwing shadows of the trees on the snowy meadow. The weatherman on NPR was telling tales of more woe to come.
This little nest looks quite uninhabitable, and will be for quite some time.
Guess I will be stoking up the fire, and doing a lot more weaving.
It is what it is.

From Crazy as a Loom

Threads

From Crazy as a Loom

Like I said, I am nostalgic of late. Or maybe just open to memories, flashbacks of days I thought I had forgotten.
Weaving has taught me a lot about myself. I found it later in my life, and didn't expect to be so smitten. The color, the texture, the incredible way that the woven piece appears before me. I can't explain it. I am willing to go through all the planning, the winding, the warping, the threading, the sleying, all of it, to get to that place where the shuttle flies back and forth, and whatever I have chosen to weave begins to take form. I especially love creating rag rugs as I go. Spontaneously, right off the top of my head. Sometimes I hate them, but sometimes I love them, and it is worth taking the chance. Taking old jeans, sock seconds, fabric scraps, and bringing them back as something brand new, well, it just make me "hot", as my DH would jokingly say.
I kind of knew a long time ago, that I needed to work with my hands. I needed to create something in front of me that came from some deep need inside of me. It made me happy, made me complete in some way that nothing else quite did.
And a picture comes to me clearly.
A barn in the country, that I had rehabbed into a 'studio' of sorts. Some track lighting, some huge old work tables that I had bought at a garage sale. Oh, that's another tale.....these tables that someone built to use as they were building their house, and then had no need for. They made an hour trip home tied 8 ft high on my little Toyota pickup.
But they were perfect to work on, and I see myself, sitting on a stool in front of one of them, dried flowers everywhere, making wreaths. It is dark out, and where I lived then, dark was really dark. The round oak stove behind me was cranking out the heat, silently. I was alone, very much alone, and I was content with that.
My life was mostly a wreck at that time. Alcoholism, someone else's, not mine, was wreaking havoc on everyone in my household. There was no light at the end of the tunnel for me right then, none that I was aware of. It all seemed a cruel joke. There were two jobs to be thankful for, nursing part time in an Emergency room and full time in a maximum security prison, two jobs that wore me down to an exhaustion I didn't realize I owned until much later. There were beautiful children that suffered along with me. There was a house, an old house in the country, that I struggled to hold onto, in spite of the odds.
So, I had not much reason to be smiling.
But this night, alone in a barn, with not one bit of experience making dried flower wreaths, I was happy. I remember distinctly thinking that the world could have stopped right then and there, and it was OK. I don't know why. But from some corner of my brain, some remote little place in my psyche, there was this certainty that change was on its way. I didn't know from where it would come. I didn't think about it really. It just WAS. A serenity came over me, a strength that brought a smile to my face, even while it brought tears to my eyes. It was all going to be OK, better than OK, it was going to be wonderful.

And on the garage find tape player in the corner, played this. Sade. And whenever I hear her voice, and this song, Cherish the Day, it all comes back to me. That feeling. That life is precious, no matter what. That there is a power greater than all of us, a power that brings us together, that makes us strong in any situation. Like all those random threads, sometimes we sit on the shelf,and we don't know what is next. But life comes along, and weaves us all together, into a perfect cloth.

2009 is a bust.

New Year's Resolutions, uncut.

1. Learn how to take naps, and when you have learned, perFect them.

2.Make a list of friends, old and new, and spend TIME with them. Lunch, day trips, coffee, a glass of wine, a bike ride, a walk. Any time is good time.

3. Walk. No matter what. Foot pain, knee pain, never mind. Walk. Then walk some more.

4. Be very selective about custom orders. No more jumping through hoops to weave an order that sounds horrific from the first phone call. You don't HAVE to take every order. Embrace this phrase: "custom orders considered". Put that phrase on your web site. Be exclusive. Don't be so easy. Play hard to get. (well, not too hard)

5. When you do take orders that sound doable, and even enjoyable, take your time. Don't break your neck to get them done as fast as humanly possible. Noone expects a custom rug in a week.
You are your own worst enemy.

6. Remember that the studio is a passion, and not a paycheck. It doesn't have to make you crazy, ever. It only has to support itself. Do what you love. It really IS that simple.

7. Keep better records, in a notebook, the old fashioned way.

8. Plant flowers this year, lots of them; and more trees, make your garden the retreat you have always wanted.

9.Let old resentments go, like the hawk on the wind, silently.

10. Plan time off. You know it is the only way you will really take it. Make detailed plans, then commit.
You cannot CAN NOT work 7 days a week. It is NOT allowed. Take a day off. Take two. If you don't tell someone, plan with someone, you will not do it. YOU ARE a workaholic.

11. Be open to what the universe is saying to you. There is no better way to create your life every day.

12.Practice gratitude, every day.

13. Weave what you want, what moves you; become a better weaver.

From Crazy as a Loom

In the wind.

I was thinking that just for fun, I would post a picture of the beach, and people parading about in scanty outfits.
Or I could post a photo of the nutcake across the street who just popped out to her car in SHORTS.
Well, it HAS warmed up since -6F early this morning. It is a BALMY 19. So I guess shorts might be appropriate.
If you're a NUT.
Anyhow, I left the studio at noon. Not my usual. Sometimes you just have those days.

Although, I must admit that it is a scenic and sunny day.

From Crazy as a Loom

Just not my best day.

The house is quiet. My 12 year old pit bull is asleep near me, on the chaise lounge (you didn't think he would be on the floor, did you?) in the sun.
My mother is napping in her part of the house.
If you didn't know better, and just closed your eyes, and let the sun pour through the window onto your face, you could imagine that it wasn't really bitter cold outside.

I am nostalgic of late. More so than usual.

I have been thinking of times gone by, people with us no more. My dreams are ever changing pictures from an old camera; not always clear, not always labeled.
In one nighttime excursion, I was 11 again, and back on the mountain, behind my childhood home. Once again, I was clinging to the railing on the light tower, wondering why I was up there in the first place. My cousin, more my brother, a day older than I, had urged and pleaded, cajoled and whined, until I relented, and followed him, slowly, terrified, up the ladder. We were surrounded by treetops. Off in the distance, I could see the top of Mt Defiance, and the log building that was the gift shop. But it was far away. The wind pushed at me, and just as I struggled to the platform on top, I realized that the tower was swaying back and forth, lurching a bit further each time.
I turned to see Billy, with a maniacal grin, throwing his weight against the rails, making the whole tower feel like a willow bending to the gusty wind. I screamed at him to stop. He just laughed. I clutched the metal piping, and closed my eyes. My stomach rolled.
Eventually he grew tired, and paused. I threw my legs over the edge, felt for the ladder rung, and went down a lot faster than I had gone up. My legs felt weak, but I managed to get on the ground, and when I did, I turned and ran, yelling over my shoulder. "I hate you, I hate you."
I ran all the way down the mountain, and all the way home.
He called after me to stop. He asked me to wait for him.
But I wouldn't listen.

Five years ago, he climbed that ladder, one last time. I couldn't go with him.
And somewhere he is laughing, and swaying, and yelling into the wind.
I hope he knows how much I love him.

Good friends

We are definitely paying for that mild November we were given. Yesterday a little snow. Today brutally cold, and more snow on the way over the weekend.

From Crazy as a Loom

But in spite of the cold, today was a nice day. My good friend, Sheila, came to weave. Usually, she is busy with her job, but she is on vacation all this week, so she spent the day at the studio; she weaving scarves, and me weaving cotton shawls.
We chatted with our looms in front of the pellet stove, and we didn't mind the cold wind outside one bit. She brought homemade black bean soup, and homemade bread. Mmmmmm. Mmm. Mmm. Delish.
We talked about life, death, and everything in between.

From Crazy as a Loom

I am working on my New Year's Resolutions, thinking about what they will be, mulling them over. Today I realized that spending more time with good friends should be on the top of the list.

Yes, it's over.

YAY!!

From Crazy as a Loom

I know, that is a bah, humbug attitude. But nonetheless, it's true. Like a big percentage of the population, I am glad that it is over. And every year, I say that I am going to do it differently next year. I will be ready. I will not get caught up in the frenzy. Next year.

But it's time to move on.

I am in a bit of a lull at the studio. I should be weaving rugs, piling up the stock rugs. But I'm not. I got very engrossed in weaving scarves before Christmas, and then I was weaving towels for gifts. And I have wanted to make this white on white cotton shawl for some time. So I am amusing myself, and as a matter of fact, I have it on the loom right now.

From Crazy as a Loom

Tonight I asked my husband if he ever thought of reinventing himself. His answer was that he did, but he didn't think anyone would let him do brain surgery.
He's a funny guy.
On the other hand, I think of it often. Not that I don't like what I am doing. I do. But I am always wondering if there is another perspective that I might be missing. I guess part of it is that I feel that I am evolving every minute, not just as a person, but as a weaver. And I want to be better at it, I want to know more, and I want to stretch myself beyond my comfort zone. Comfort zones can be restrictive. They keep us in one spot, when maybe that isn't what we really need.
I always feel introspective about this time. The new year is just around the corner. A chance to start over. A chance to do it differently. And I am regrouping, trying to look at what I have done in 2009, and figure out what worked for me, and what really didn't. It is easy to let one day slide into another, and one week drift into the next, doing the same thing over and over. I am guilty, of working too much, and not taking time out for other things. It is too easy for me and my workaholic nature. But that doesn't mean that I am happy with it. It is like any bad habit.
And every year, I get another chance to give it up.

Never say never, even on Christmas.

OK, so we had dinner at youngest daughters last night, and tonight stepdaughter and her boyfriend are coming for dinner, and tomorrow, getting together with all the kids and grandkids, for pizza and gift giving. Don't ask why we are doing it the day after Christmas. The story would take too long.

So today, I am lounging a bit. About 11:30am, I headed to the studio, to feed the cats, and the pellet stove. I figured I would stay long enough to do that, and long enough to give them some love. I feel guilty when I don't have time to pay much attention to them.
When I left the house, I looked at my camera, and decided to leave it home. Now understand that every day, I pick up my purse, and my camera, always. I never leave home without it.
Until today.
Today it seemed silly to take it, after all, it is Christmas, and I didn't plan on being there long. So I picked it up, but put it back down, and left without it.

While I was there, I happened to glance out the window to see some cars pulling up out in front of the studio. I couldn't see much from the living room, so I headed out to the shop, which is in the front room, to get a better view. I was alarmed to see cars stopped on both sides of the road. I thought there must be an accident, but couldn't see any signs of that. Then I saw someone get out of their car, and aimed a camera at the field next to my driveway.
I turned, to look out the south facing window, and saw this.

From Crazy as a Loom

You can imagine my horror, when I realized that my camera and zoom lens were both home on the kitchen counter.
Unbelievable. I was so close I could hear them talking, could hear what they were saying.
And this was the ONLY day in all of 2009 that I did not have my camera with me.
So I ran for my phone, and took the only picture I could take.
And watched them lift off, and heard the roar of their burner.
Never, never leave your camera home.
Not even on Christmas.

Ho ho ho

From Crazy as a Loom

Just taking a minute to wish everyone a very wonderful Christmas with family and friends.
An end to shopping and a beginning to all the good food that holidays bring.
Be merry.

Just another wintery day.

From Crazy as a Loom

Do you think this is close enough to the fire????
Well, my feet were freezing all day regardless. Old houses, frigid temps, and WIND. Oh, my.

The word today is balance. I need it, I never have it for long. So when I got up this morning, I told myself how it was going to be. I do that sometimes. Have these little talks with myself.
And what I said was, do some stock rugs that need to get done, and then do something that you want to do, something that moves you.
So I did. I worked on sock rugs, then I moved the Baby Wolf as close to the pellet stove as I could get without setting myself on fire, and I worked played on pinwheel towels. That pattern is still amusing me. Don't laugh. Sometimes it is a good thing to be easily amused. It has served me well all my life.
The phone barely rang all day, a welcome relief. I didn't even play any music today, content to just hear the fire roaring, a comforting sound on a cold wintery day.
Before I knew it, it was time to go home. I poured a hot cup of peppermint tea for the road, and headed out.

From Crazy as a Loom

Driving down the road, the smell of mint wafting through the car, Ottmar Liebert playing guitar like we were on a beach somewhere, the sky to the west looked like it was on fire. But I didn't get fooled by that. Huddled in my quilted coat, with my scarf up around my face, my hand knit mittens on, I knew better.

From Crazy as a Loom

I just wanted to be home, out of the cold. I knew my husband was cooking, and walking through the door would smell wonderful. And it did.
And over dinner, my mother gave us the blow by blow of the Survivor finale. With facial expressions.
Life is good.

Dogs I have known.

It's a long list, beginning with a dog named Chip that my parents had when I was a toddler. I don't remember him, but my mother says that he went to Florida with us, when my father decided to look for work there. We all packed into a tiny trailer the size of my present day bathroom.

Then there was Mike, and Ike (my mother was an Eisenhower fan). Ike was half poodle and half hound. My father brought him and his 7 siblings home with him, after hearing that they were going to be destroyed. I remember him opening the door of his truck, and them all tumbling out. Ike was possibly the strangest looking dog I have ever seen.

Old Mike went down the road and impregnated a neighbor's dog, and that is how I got my puppy, that I called Hoby. I taught him to 'heel', and I taught him so well, that the back of my leg was always wet, from him drooling down it, because he walked so close. I also taught him to jump through hula hoops, back when they were the rage. He was named after Hoby Gilman, a bounty hunter sitcom on TV. I'm aging myself with both of those comments.

Then there was Beau, an Irish setter, the dumbest dog I ever had the pleasure to own. He was always running off, and he would get in the car with anyone. Sometimes he would wander right back by the house, and he wouldn't even recognise where he was. He would waltz right on by.

There was a stray Newfoundland in Maine, that I named Gonzo, after I paid for him to have surgery on his broken hip. He slept in the back seat all the way back to New York, and he only got up once to eat hamburgers from McDonald's, and once to find a handy tree.

And Zoe, a sweet border collie who liked to bite tires and pants legs. She never got over not having a herd of sheep to chase down.

And Joby, a golden retriever that came with the house I bought.
And Taffy, another golden, whose owners were retiring to Florida, and couldn't take her.

Then there was Chickiwu, my little pit bull. The sweetest girl of all. The dog you wait all your life for. She ran like the wind, and jumped every fence ever put up. She was mine the minute she walked through the door. We were inseparable.
One night, long after she was gone, I dreamt I opened the closet door, and she was there.
And I said, "Chicki. I've been looking all over for you."

But this is Eddie, my Eddie, and he is the sweetest boy I know. He is the swimming (and diving) dog. He is 'spagetti Eddie'. He is Edhead. He is 'buddy boy', and a dozen other terms of endearment.
I joke that Bill and I will have to get counseling when he is gone. But it isn't' all that far from the truth.

I know that at 12 and 1/2, Eddie won't be with us forever. And I can't (won't) think about what that will be like. I am too afraid I already know.
But somewhere, there will be another homeless little pit bull, with my name on him, and Eddie's.
There will always be more dogs.
I don't think I would know how to live without one.

Brrr.

The other day when I went to Green-Conscience in Saratoga, I came home with this lovely wind chime. I fell in love with it, and now it is living in the old kitchen, in a southerly window.



Jinx is enthralled with it, I have every expectation that she will pull it down, but I am hoping that she doesn't.
Isn't it beautiful?

It is bitter cold in the northeast. But it does sound like that big storm coming up the east coast might actually MISS us. There's a change. Usually, NOTHING misses us. I will believe it when I see it.
It is supposed to be 5 below zero tonight. That is just not right.

Along with sock rugs, and blue jean rugs, I have been weaving rugs from old corduroy jeans.
They make one of my favorite rugs. Unfortunately, I don't have much corduroy, and don't really have a source for corduroy scraps.



I have to adjust my thinking when I go to the studio. It isn't like home, where you can walk around mid winter barefoot if you want, with no ill effects.
At the studio, you want to have your fleece socks on, with slippers. You want to turn the heat up in the room that you are in. Following the sun is a great idea........the living room is sunny in the early morning.......by late morning, the old living room is brilliant in sun, and by mid afternoon, the old kitchen is where you want to be. Although some days, when the wind is cutting, being next to the pellet stove is the ONLY place to be.
I have a wool sweater, a garage sale find, that is my old standby, guaranteed to keep me comfortable.
In an old post and beam house, there is no insulation. There is no place to put it. And yet, people have lived here since 1790. They managed. They lived with it. I guess if they did it, I can, too.

Green, green, it's green they say.

I know. This photo is totally fiction. There is no green grass here in northeast NY, there is pretty much nothing green here this time of year.
I took that picture last year, but today it appealed to me. It beckons me to take that step, start down that path. It looks so peaceful, so serene.
I hate winter, but I love this time of year. December, for me, is time to ponder the last 12 months.
To think about what I have done that has worked, and to figure out what hasn't worked that well. I have feelings of satisfaction, and some regret.
But January is right around the corner, and more than a time to make resolutions, for me it is a time to embark. That's what it feels like to me. Taking off on the boat that is the rest of my life. Hoping to get it right.............no, MORE right. Perfection isn't an option.
But synchronicity, simplicity, the soft sound of chimes....yeah, that's what I'm aiming for.

My friend Sheila sent me a link to a Letting Go Ritual. I went there, and tried it. For no apparent reason, I got tearful. I feel like I am on the precipice of learning something very important. About myself. About my life. I am afraid to bite into it, I feel like I am starving myself all day in anticipation of eating out at a great restaurant. I don't want to spoil it.

Go on over and try it. Tell me what you think.

Yesterday I sold some rugs to a fairly new store called Green Conscience, in Saratoga Springs.
I am very excited to have my lodge rugs,blue jean rugs and Solmate sock rugs there. They are a local business dedicated to providing inspiration and education to people who are interested in a sustainable lifestyle. They carry a variety of organic and eco-friendly lawn, garden and home improvement products. I love that we are of the same mind, that my rugs 'fit' there so well.

And here's a news flash. I took the afternoon off today. I went to lunch. I went Christmas shopping. I totally goofed off.
See, I can do it!!

Change is good.

Blue jean rugs.
With orders done, and the Christmas open house over, I am weaving blue jean rugs.

I have decided to try something different. I usually take pictures of every blue jean rug I make, then put it on my web site. But a blue jean rug is a blue jean rug. They are all vaguely different, but mostly the same.
So I am going to put one of each size on my web site, and the customer can choose from a 2'x3', a 28"x48", or a 30"x60". Then I will try to weave a stack of each, and not spend time taking pictures of almost identical rugs, and putting them on and taking them off my web site.

And I am thinking that might work for the sock rugs, as well. Making life simpler, isn't that a good idea??

I was eating my lunch today, glanced out the window, and saw a pileated woodpecker. Same tree I saw him on a few weeks ago. I bolted out the door, camera in hand, grabbed my zoom lens from the car, and ran through the snow around the side of the house.
I looked in vain, he was gone.
This is NOT my picture. I wish it were.
Here are a few miscellaneous facts about this awesome bird.

• The Pileated Woodpecker was the model for the cartoon character Woody Woodpecker.
• The pileated woodpecker is also regionally known as the "Indian rooster" or the "Rain crow".
• The roost of a Pileated Woodpecker usually has multiple entrance holes.
• The sound that a Pileated Woodpecker makes when boring a hole in a tree is so loud that it can be heard over long distances.
• Pileated Woodpeckers make such large holes in dead trees that sometimes the holes can cause a small tree to break in half.
• Pileated Woodpeckers have been observed to move their eggs which have fallen off the nest to another site. This is a rare habit in other birds.

I am not done with my Christmas shopping. I don't have a good plan. I get tired just thinking about it.
Does that ring a bell with anyone??

And I desperately need some time off, even a day. It seems a simple thing, right? I can just take the time, right?
Then what stops me.
That, my friends, is the question.

Wham Bam

Thank you, Tammy!!!!!
I had an order that had to get done by Christmas. I had the loom ready, the fabric cut, and I just needed a partner.
Tammy had today off from her regular job, so she came over.

We wove a 6'x 8' rug, hemmed it, packed it, and it will be on its way to British Columbia on Monday. We were slammin'.



Tomorrow I will finish up the last red scarf, I think it might be my favorite.



I love color, but texture moves me, too.




Thanks to Hilary, over at The Smitten Image, for her comment about the hawk, and what it means to see one.


"Hawks are visionaries and messengers. As a totem they help to open the higher chakras so that we may hear and see the visions and messages that Spirit and the Universe are always sending our way. There is never a moment when the Universe is not trying to get a message through to us but we are so often too busy or unaware of what it is we need to be watching for! Hawk helps us to not only be aware that we are receiving a message but how to interpret them. The realm of symbols is also the realm of Hawk for Hawk is able to soar high above the earth to soar on the breath of Spirit, to commune with Spirit and thus understand through the intuitive level what the message means and with their keen eyesight, how to implement it once they return to earth through seeing the broader picture below.
Many of the messages Hawk may bring are about freeing yourself of thoughts and beliefs that are limiting your ability to soar above your life and gain a greater perspective."

That is what I want, a greater perspective. I want to soar.
Have you ever dreamt that you were flying? I always love those dreams.

What I really want to do is fly away from all this cold weather. Somewhere warm and sunny. I can't weave next to the pellet stove for 4 months, can I???