Earlier in the day I started over on the Macomber loom with the warps that I had not cut the cross on. I have enough to do another set of curtains, and I spent SO MUCH time winding that warp that I can't stand to see it go to waste. Besides, I am not in any hurry and I could use another straightforward pattern weaving project. I promise myself that I will never ever wind a warp this long again.
I had originally started tying this warp to the old warp so I wouldn't have to rethread, but the knots were not being cooperative as they were pulled through the reed and the heddles. I decided that it would be less of a pain to just rethread the whole thing.
And it will be something that I will have to concentrate on without thinking about other stuff.
Ready to finish up that collage video workshop now.
Allergies seem better today.
Later I spent several hours in my bedroom, door closed, dealing with the emotions that bubbled up as I missed my mother, then I started grieving for the situation as it stands now. My husband is driving me a little crazy at this point. He means well but I am used to having more solitude and not having my reading or writing or art making interrupted so often. Thus I finally closed my bedroom door after snapping at him. He has never understood how to deal with my depression, or with my grief. After my mother died was THE WORST. He was just awful. I finally ended up going to the lake house by myself for several days. I was so angry! I suppose that is what is starting up now. I will have to get out into the garden and pull some weeds. That is always good therapy for me.
I was meant to be a hermit, I think. The other day I told someone that if this had happened when I was a teenager living with my parents, I would have been out in the woods all the time. Probably riding the roads on my bike or in my old car too – we didn't have much to do where I came from. I had my secret places where I would take my journal, my sketchbook, and a pack of cigarettes. Multiple hideouts that I built out of logs and mud or scrap lumber that I found. One of the best was in an old schoolhouse back in the woods. Someone used it store hay in at one time and it was probably full of mice and rats but I never saw any. It burned down when I was an adult and I remembered all the teenagers who used to smoke in there around that old hay and I was sad but not surprised. Another was at Page's Mill Pond in Lake View, South Carolina. I would slip under the barrier that said no trespassing, DANGER, and sit on top of the dam out of sight of everyone. I was so invincible.
slowly she turned 