Back at it.

Hard to believe, but my last weaving  bootcamp  weekend was last June.  Until now, that is.

I used my "panorama" option to show you what went on this weekend.  Although it would be really hard to convey what was packed into just 48 hours.
Warps were wound, and looms were woven on.

I had three lovely students, one from NH, and two from right here in NY.  
We went over an incredible amount of  material, and they did very well.  The weekend is always intense, and a learning experience for everyone, even me.
I have found that teaching weaving just makes me a better weaver.


The cats seem to love the company, which makes me feel bad that they don't have it more often.
But then maybe they would sleep right through it anyway.

Thank you Chris, Sally, and Kathy, for an awesome weekend.  Here's to the amazing weaving ahead of you!!!
Sydney says:
Come again!!!   I'm not even mad at you for not letting me up on the counter.
Honest.

Here kitty.

The box that L built for N & N is now inside, and has been converted into a cat tower.

 After much complaining by the "Fab Four", she changed the initials.
She put the letters in order of how the cats arrived at Crazy as a Loom.
Kizzy came first 2007, then Miss Puss, a few months later, then Jinksie, spring 2009, and last but not least, Sydney, in September 2009.

Kizzy is my little manx cat.  Uh, did I say little???
He weighs TWENTY lbs.

But oh, my, is he handsome????
 This photo, as well as the one above, were taken by L with my camera, when I thought she was weaving.  Ahem.
Great shots, though.

And then there's Nexxie, who came a year ago.
Today it was raining, so I took him on the inside porch with me for a while.
He cried LOUDLY the whole time, and wasn't happy until I let him out on the outside porch.
Which he calls home.

Winter will be a different story.  He'll have to cry.  I can't leave him outside all winter alone.
ALTHOUGH, there IS a black cat lurking in the tall grass behind the shed.
I don't think Nexxie likes him though, if the frequent wounds from fighting are any indication.

I have a busy weekend coming up.  I just wanted to stop in and say hello.  Change is on my mind, but I am practicing patience.  Or trying to.
Good things take time.

Change.

 To exist is to change, to change is to mature, to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly.  ~Henri Bergson

You all know the year and a half that I have been through, because I have shared it with you, along the way.  Brain decompression, neck fusion 8/28/12 and revision 3/26/13  ......the whole naked, ugly saga.

This is me, just 10 weeks ago, on my way home after Surgery #2.
It still amazes me what abuse a body can put up with.

It is better now, much better.  I am here.  I am alive.  I am, for the most part, well.
  But it is different.  I am different. 
Brain reboot.  Call it what you want.
I'm different.
Somewhere along the way, I met myself face to face.  And I knew that change was coming.

I still love to weave, I still want it to be an integral part of my life.  I want to dream it, create it, love it.
What I don't want is to work endless days and do production weaving.
Funny actually.  
When I started out weaving, I bantered that phrase "production weaving" around in my head.  Asked myself if I wanted to do that.  And then, without exactly knowing how it came about, I found myself doing just that.  Many rugs a day, stacks of rugs in the shop.  
But even that wasn't the end of it.  Because I had access to thousands of pounds of sock waste, I felt that it was my "responsibility" to recycle all of it, in as many ways as I could.
So my brain shifted into overgear, a place where it's quite comfortable, thank you, and came up with more and more and more work.
Soon I had put together the Hip to Be Square looper loom, the Hip to Be Square Rag Rug kit, the Walking on Sunshine braided rug kit, the Chunky rug, the Walking on Sunshine rug, the Sweet Bottom chair pads............are you tired yet??
And then the Prime Mate sock monkey, and the 3 sizes of Socketbooks.  Whew.

All this in EXCESS of my regular weaving of rag rugs, blue jean rugs, placemats, tote bags, mug rugs................custom orders, weaving weekends.
Do you get the picture???
To be honest, the only reason I have been able to keep it going this last two years is because I have in "L", a friend and apprentice  that loves Crazy as a Loom.  She has worked hard, and picked up the huge slack that occurred when I was suddenly NOT myself.

Wake up call: you can become "someone other than yourself" at any moment.  It happens.

The thing is, I will never be that person I was before.  It is a hard truth to swallow, but I can't change it.   I can only learn to adapt to this new reality.
I will never want to weave many rugs a day.   And I don't want to spend my time at the studio doing NON WEAVING chores.
That doesn't work for me.

Like I said.  Change is coming.


All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.  ~Anatole France

A day of rest. wow.

Sunday.  One of those days.
Quiet.  And that's ok.

I was touched by Cait's post HERE over at Barefoot Weaver.  She talked about sometimes just not feeling all wonderful about her life, even though she knows she should.
Ain't it the truth though?
Your rational mind tells you that you should be grateful, you should be happy, you should be bouncing back from whatever blows life is dealing you.
But one day you wake up, and you can't go with any of that.
Nothing seems right.  Nothing feels right.  You start this, and move on to that.  You can't get interested in anything, or motivated in any meaningful way.
Everything just seems to suck, and you can't snap out of it.

That's when I say to myself: It's ok.  Tomorrow is another day.  It will be better tomorrow.
And usually, it is.

All winter long, between surgeries, with my life and my well being hanging in the balance, or at least it seemed that way, I thought about all the things I wanted to do with my one "wild and precious life".
Taking time to just be in the moment seemed to be at the center of every scenario I came up with.

I'm practicing.

Siting on the porch today listening to the wind chimes, I was reminded to listen to that inner voice, the one that tells me it's going good, or not so much.

Nexxie kept me company.

 He knows exactly how to live in the moment.

 We can learn so much from our cats and dogs.  All we have to do is be still, and listen.

 Today I'm just keeping still, and listening closely.
It's all good.

Panoramic

In light of the storms heading our way, Roy and I were out walking before 8am.
As much as he loves his morning nap, he is always up for his morning walk.

Finally got my "upholstery fabric" rug off the loom.  It really  turned out nicer than I had hoped.  And it is thick, and heavy.  It should last a long time.
It is 33" x 52", and will be on the web site soon.

 My stomach has been a little off, so I skipped lunch, and had a protein shake.
Protein powder, frozen strawberries, half a banana, and almond milk.

 While L was enjoying a  turkey sub (and chips) for lunch, I was playing with the "panorama" setting on my iPhone camera.
Pretty darn cool.

 

I will admit that I found it by accident.  Who knew?

It does give you a better feel for what the studio is like.

 

This is the "old kitchen", with the door to the back porch finally open.
That box is FULL of cut upholstery fabric.

 Yes, it's true, there are looms in every room.
Excepting the bathrooms.
Only because they are too small.

 I have realized that recovery from two surgeries on my head may take a year, or more.
I try to pace myself every day.  It's tough.  You can imagine.
There is so much to do.

I am revamping my ideas about what the studio means to me, about what a "productive" day really looks like, and how living in the now can change everything.

Busy, busy, busy

Our inner porch, the "shipping department" has been cluttered and cramped for a long time.

Then we yanked the selvedge bales out of there.

And organized.

And NOW, at last, we can use this door that goes from the inner porch to the old kitchen.

For the first time in a long time.

 

I love the pitch pine floors in this old house.

 They just glow.

Looms waiting in the corner.  Two wolf pups, and a Harrisville studio loom.

 This one belonged to a friend of mine.  I'm selling it for her.

 Next is adjusting to being the solo "porch cat".  But I've pretty much decided that he won't have to stay outside alone in the cold when winter comes.
The four brats inside will have to adjust to #5.
He's really such a good boy.

Here is the first rug out of the upholstery fabric.  I still don't have it all cut, and I'm sewing it as I need it.  I am liking the way it's turning out.

L's sock rugs are airing out on the porch.  These are the sherbert rugs, and their colors were obtained by bleaching loopers.  They still smell a little of bleach, so they need a little breeze.  But I am loving the colors.  There won't be any more of these, as I am retiring my "bleaching routine".

 Ah, well, the times they are a changin'.

Monday

I am convinced that things in my head were moved around during surgery, maybe not much, but how much does it take for changes to occur??
I'm only half kidding.
Two migraines, complete with visual auras, which in my case are jagged lights that make it difficult to read and last about 20 minutes, before the sledge hammer connects with your forehead.  Two days in a row.
You think headaches would be so old hat, eh??
On Saturday, I plowed through it, refusing to lie down or anything else sensible, and paid the price.
Last night when it happened, I let Roy out, back in, and said, BEDTIME.  He was all for that.
Still light out?
No problem.
So today I figured it was worth a trip to the doctor to get some good stuff to take when you know it's coming, since Motrin did not even get noticed.
Or maybe, now that I've got a prescription, I won't have them.

This morning, being so well rested, I was up at the crack of dawn, and raring to go.

The porch at the studio needed cleaning.
 I think it looks pretty good.

The mourning dove that makes her nest every year over my hot tub has had two babies.

The other day I noticed that Momma was gone, and the babies looked poised for flight.  And certainly big enough to go.

The next day they were gone.

Lois has  been weaving off the last of the bleached loopers.  32" x 52".
I love the colors.

Mother is home.  Stable on new meds.
The heat wave is over.  Sun is shining, sweet breeze is blowing.
Yarn is in the mail.
I'm prepared for another migraine, should it occur.
 Warp is tied on for point twill towels.
Tomorrow, I'm going to weave.  Simple.  Uncomplicated.
Please God.