I Am Not Kidding

I've been invited to a meeting of Marlborough Weavers, an active weaving group in and around Picton and Blenheim about 90 minutes east (and over the mountain) of Nelson. That's the group that hosted the first ever weaving workshop I attended, my coming out, in 2001, and so it as been surrogate guild ever since, but I never went to their regular meetings because of confidence/commitment issues, more than the logistical/transport problem. It's been made easier, among other reasons, because Sue wants to go also, so there's her apron strings to hang on to this time.

This next meeting date moved around a bit, and I couldn't quite commit myself because it's going to be sometime in the week preceding the opening of my Exhibit(ion). And this group is usually very organized, so it came as a surprise, until I found out why.

It's going to be held at one of the members' house, and she had to check with her husband about the sheep movement.

I don't really know the business (?) of raising sheep, but if you run a farm, I realize once again, life doesn't always fit nicely with the printed calendar. It reminded me of what a towny weaver I am, because for now, I buy my yarns dyed. I know how to spin, but haven't spun to weave this century; and promise to start dyeing my yarns this year, but thus far I've been a pure consumer-weaver.

I also chuckles remembering an email I received from weaver Pam a few years ago. Her email started, "We are kidding," and went on to talk about the weather and her goats. What??? Goats! Kidding...

I love living in New Zealand. Kiwis (the human kind) keep me on toes, or in tow. It's easier to get back to the beginning of things in this place.

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