Category Archives: Blessings

Warp And Weft

I am now the owner of a 24-inch four-harness table loom. It’s missing the shuttle and I believe a heddle hook, but apart from that it’s in usable shape. It’s very similar to this model, only older and a bit more rustic. An elderly friend of the ADZO family passed away recently and left no local family. She was a weaver, and had three (three? two?) full-size looms set up in her split-level home. She was a member of the Lakeshore Weavers Guild, who came in and took the full-size looms. The ADZO family went over yesterday and was told to take whatever of her things they liked. One of the things they mentioned seeing was a tiny loom in a back corner of the storage room.

My maternal grandfather was a weaver. I have a set of curtains he wove hanging in my office (which can be seen in these pictures). One of the atmospheric things I remember the most clearly about his house in Farnham was the entire room he had upstairs filled with his floor loom, his wools, and his equipment. Over the past couple of years I’ve planned to at some point learn how to use a drop spindle to spin my own wool, as part of a spiritual and meditative practice. Ideally, once I’d worked on that for a while, I’d move into weaving with the yarn I’d created. I like the sense of taking up a craft that’s been in my family.

It seems that the universe has decided to switch things up for me a bit.

Jen called and told the executors that she’d found someone who wanted the table loom if it was still available, and so ADZO and I went over this morning to collect it. There was a member of the weavers guild there too, and she asked me if I was interested in joining. I told her quite honestly that I had no time at the moment but a beginner’s workshop at some point would definitely interest me, so I got as much information from her as I could. Before we left she rummaged through some bags and gave me three huge spindles of synthetic yarn to dye and play with.

A 24-inch loom is tiny. You can’t do huge projects on them, unless you intend to patch your work together somehow. They’re pretty limited to table runners, place mats, scarves, that sort of thing. But it’s not the products I’m interested in so much as the process. There is so much spiritual metaphor and simile encapsulated in the process of weaving, as well as the attractive notion of doing something meditative with the hands that doesn’t feel like a waste of time. And as I said above, there’s the family connection that makes it all the more special for me.

I suspect that I’ll invest in a stand with treadles when I get around to using it seriously, because using hand levers to shift the harnesses slows you down a lot. You only have two hands, after all, and they’re already passing the shuttle back and forth and operating the beater.

So I have a whole new set of things to research and read about. (Plant dyeing! Patterns! Techniques! History!) It’s not pressing. I’m looking forward to it.

(What am I talking about? Wikipedia has entries on looms, heddles (which are set in a harness), and weaving in general to help you out.)

Birthday!

This morning I have received an aggressive kiss on the nose to wake me up, followed immediately by the boy chirping, “Hi Mama, it’s your birthday! Here, take this.” I mumbled a thank you and peered at the folded piece of paper he’d given me, with crayon all over it. “It’s a card for you!” he explained enthusiastically. “See, these are butterflies!” Then there were toys brought in and played with on the bed, as well as many snuggles. Then he hauled HRH’s guitar out and played and sang me a birthday song extempore, on the spot.

We returned the 7/8 cello Number 3 to the luthier this morning. “And?” he said. “Almost,” I said. “Almost, but not quite.” I explained that the two-week home trial had confirmed that the 7/8 size is indeed perfect for me, but that this particular instrument just didn’t have that certain something that clicked and made it mine. He asked if there was anything particular, in order to avoid it when selecting another for me to test, and I shook my head; there wasn’t anything specifically wrong. It just didn’t grab me and say, ‘You cannot part with me.’ I like the tone, the overtones, the balance, the construction, the feel under my fingers, everything; it’s just not this one that I need. He has another 7/8 in his Laval workshop and will bring it in for me, but I’m on holiday the last two weeks of July and he’s closed the first two weeks of August, so we’ll pick up again then. In the meantime there’s the two shops in Toronto, and the Scarlatti 7/8 Number 2 to take home for a test, and I’ll think about the one in Alaska too.

On the way to the luthier we treated ourselves to breakfast sandwiches and iced cappuccinos, and the we went through the car wash for the first time with the boy, who found it very exciting. Unfortunately we ran into not one but two road detours in St Lambert and Longueuil due to festivals or triathalons which rerouted us way out of the areas we needed to travel in or through, so the trip was about twice as long as it needed to be.

My birthday present from HRH was a new bike! It has been many, many years since I have owned one. As he carted it to the back yard yesterday the next-door neighbour said, “You got a n new bike?” HRH said, “It’s not mine, it’s hers.” “But it’s a man’s bike,” the neighbour replied, confused. Yes, it is a man’s bike, but I preferred the shiny red and white paint with a back rack to the blue and white with a plastic basket in the front, complete with fake flower, and with flowers painted on the seat. The blue was nice, but give me a rack over a flimsy plastic basket any day. Also, a red bike is just cooler. The next purchase is a bike trailer for kids so the boy and I can bike to the library and the grocery store, or just go for a ride together. My parents gave me a lovely blank book and a copy of Martha Stewart’s cookie recipe book. I got birthday money last weekend from my in-laws, which went to new summer shirts and a skirt (and a new bike helmet and lock!). There was a cheque in yesterday’s mail from my grandmother, which will buy a new printer. I have received numerous birthday wishes from all over via e-mail, phone, and journal posts, the weather is spectacular, and I am having a wonderful birthday so far. There’s a late afternoon picnic in my future today, and I have been promised sushi tonight after the boy goes to bed. Tomorrow there’s a birthday dinner with the in-laws, too. Life is good.

Grateful

Thank you, life, for a lovely relaxed day with no stress. Played lots of cello, finished another book, picked up a few groceries, lay on my stomach with the boy to watch the ants in the backyard, ate strawberries together in the sun, took the wagon to meet HRH at the bus stop, had barbecued burgers for dinner, curled up with the boy and cuddled him until he fell asleep holding my hand.

I am so very thankful for a good day. Another bad one would have been… well, cumulatively Very Bad.

And now, I am going to go run a hot bath with either honeysuckle bubbles or lavender honey milk powder, and read the new issue of Strings magazine that arrived today.

Good Things

Life is remarkably miserable these days, so I’m trying to look for good things to share instead of the crap. Here’s a selection.

1. I read two books yesterday, Hale’s Austenland and Clark’s Because She Can. I’m so glad the boy is at an age where I don’t have to actively play with him all the time. Once in a while we can be in the same room or out in the backyard together, each doing our own thing with periodic interaction. This doesn’t work all the time: the boy has to be in a secure enough headspace to allow it. But yesterday was one of those days. There were other trade-offs, however, and other things were not as successful, which was very frustrating.

2. Last Tuesday I wrote twelve pages of Swan Sister longhand. I know I said the Vivaldi novel had ambushed my brain, but evidently I was wrong.

3. And perhaps Swan Sister‘s not the winner after all, because I sat down on Monday afternoon and drafted a two-paragraph summary and then a two-page synopsis for a new YA novel that had occurred to me. Because, you know, I don’t have enough unfinished YA novels lying around. At least this one has a full outline, up to a point at the end. I know that the protagonist’s obstacle gets worked through and she achieves her goal, and even how it happens, but there’s a secondary story in there about another character that affects her and that goal and I’m not sure how that resolves yet. Or even if it needs to be resolved, really; the protagonist may just go on being the only one to know this character’s secret. I’ve never written a full synopsis for a novel before it’s been written, and it was a very interesting exercise. I may even try to write the novel now. (I mean, of course I’ll write it at some point, and I didn’t expect to want to write it immediately. But it’s all there, so to speak.)

4. I’m sleeping okay, which I am trying to see as a tolerable trade-off for the increased pain I’m experiencing these days.

5. Sun is nice and good. Cats all returned to a level of sanity is also good. Life is less stressful when they’re all normal. (As normal as my cats, or any cats really, get.)

Weekend Roundup

Thank you everyone! Your enthusiastic comments were such a wonderful way to begin my first Monday morning post-book.

We had a fabulous weekend. Not only was the weather glorious, but we spent time with family and friends (both planned and unexpectedly), and picked up some things we needed.

Saturday morning we headed out to the bookstore, because the boy’s latest potty achievement was to be rewarded with a new train. He and HRH played with the train set on display while I wandered lazily and tried to remember what books I’d been diverting onto my wish list. I found Ophelia by Lisa Klein and The Lost Memoirs of Jane Austen by Syrie James, neither of which had been on my list at all. Then we went upstairs “to see Mama’s books”, which means checking to see if they’re on the shelf and signing them if they are. Every month when I stop by there’s another half dozen that are unsigned, so they’re selling through steadily enough. I gathered them up and brought them to the nearest staff terminal and said, “Hi, I’m an author and these are my books you have in stock. I was wondering if you’d like me to sign them?” (See how far I have come!) The clerk looked at me and blinked, then said, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” “I wrote these books,” I said, smiling. “They’re your shelf stock. Would you like me to sign them?” She blinked again, and then suddenly clued in. “Oh! Oh, wow! Oh, yes — I mean, I think so, let me just call a manager and check.” So she called and got the okay, and offered me her pen. I signed them and handed them back to her, and she said, “Wow, this is so cool. You know, we do signings too — if you have a new book coming out you can just call Mike, our manager, and he’ll set you up and everything.” I thanked her and used her name (hurrah for nametags), shook her hand, and wished her a great day. As we walked away I heard the other clerk at the terminal with her say, “Wow, I’ve never met a real author before.” HRH and I giggled all the way down the elevator. Ah, yes; I remember that time, back when I was still new in the book business and I didn’t know authors were Real People too, who lived in the neighbourhood and had families.

We ran into Jeff and Tallis on our way along the sidewalk to visit the pet store, taking a walk while Paze did some shopping. We took them along with us and all said hi to Derek, a former animation classmate of HRH and Jeff (yes, such a wonderful industry, that has talented artists working in pet shops). Then we went back home to have lunch and a rest before Ceri and Scott came over for the first barbecue of the season! We had burgers and potato salad, and Ceri brought brownies for dessert that we ate with ice cream and strawberries. It felt so good to be out in the sun on such a gorgeous afternoon. As they left the full moon was rising right between the two houses opposite our front door, a luminous apricot in a faintly lavender-grey sky, and it was breathtaking.

Sunday morning we went out and did a round of errands. The boy got his next car seat, one that uses the car’s seat belts, as well as a new cap to replace the one that’s swimming with the ducks, new running shoes (size eight, good gods), and a red t-shirt with a Canadian flag on the front to replace the one he outgrew last summer. (He had pleaded to wear the one HRH was wearing last Thursday night, you see.) After the nap we went to the south shore to take a look at the second-hand Saturn Ion we’d been eyeing and reading up on. The original plan was to drop him off with his grandparents but his nap had begun and ended late (we’d had to wake him up, in fact) so in order to get to the dealership before they closed we brought him with us. He enthusiastically helped us examine the car. The first place we looked was in the trunk, because let’s be realistic, if a cello isn’t going to fit there’s not much point. We popped it open and our jaws dropped at the size: it’s bigger than the trunk area in our current station wagon. “But this is too big for us!” the boy exclaimed. We assured him that it wasn’t, and took a look at the interior. He very seriously crawled all over the back and tested each seat there, and even pulled the shoulder belt down and tried to fasten it, making sure it worked. Meanwhile HRH and I were exploring the front and marvelling at how open and roomy it was. While HRH looked under the hood I sat in the driver’s seat and Liam came to stand in the middle of the car, balancing one hand on each headrest as he looked at me. “Mama,” he said earnestly, “this car is too big for us.” “No, it really isn’t,” I said. “Do you like it?” “Yes,” he said. “I can sit there now?” So I let him sit in the driver’s seat and feel important while HRH and I talked with the saleswoman about taking it for a test drive.

On our way back to our car the boy pulled me over to a Pontiac Wave and said, “See, this car is perfect!” “It’s nice and compact, I said, “but a little too small for what we need. Do you like the black one?” “Yes,” he said. “I could have my new car seat in it?” “You could,” I agreed. Then we all went to spend the rest of the afternoon with HRH’s parents and have a delicious dinner. I had completely exhausted myself by that point so wasn’t very good company, but it was lovely to just sit and be quiet while the boy played with all his toys and the afternoon sun streamed in the front windows.

Knowing the book had been finished and the beautiful warm and sunny weather went a long, long way towards making the weekend wonderful.

Five Things

1. Jteethy has a job! Woo-hoo!

2. Sun! Sun! The snow of yesterday is pretty much gone! (Only a metre or so of the winter stuff left to go now…)

3. A weekend that feels like a weekend so far, and will only get better with a visit from Ceri and Scott this afternoon, a flying visit with the inlaws while we get ready to go out and they start minding the boy, and then the concert tonight.

4. Fresh bread, Dijon mustard, fresh slices of grilled Angus roast beef, and Swiss cheese.

5. A really wonderful night of sleep after a decent dress rehearsal.

Respite!

All hail Janice, who while on the phone with me today for a different reason, prompted me to work out that I’d dropped an entire week from my deadline countdown. I know how it happened, too: on my miniature office calendar, the 24th and 31st are sharing the last Monday calendar square with no diagonal line dividing them. So it looks like I come back from Toronto on the 31st, not the 24th, which would have meant the next day was delivery day.

I have — you have no idea how it thrills me to say this — four extra days before my original deadline. That makes eight work days. Plus the three extra days my editor granted me.

That makes a grand total of eleven work days.

I am positively drunk with the possibilities.

It’s as if someone actually handed me all that extra time people have been saying they wish they could find for me. Thank you, universe. And no love, mini office calendar. I’m going to go through you right now and draw dividing lines on all the split days so I don’t make this mistake again.