I just anointed myself Dame Rantsalot. I'm going semi-crazy because I'm very tired this morning but I have to get ready for an all day writing workshop, instead of staying home mending the supplementary warp ends in front of the fire and washing my colorful whatever-it-decides-it-wants-to-be. (Too tired to go all crazy; imagine a baby that wimpers a lot because s/he just wants to go to sleep.)
Images of dames and swards and mostly Elizabethan costumes made me think of big insignia rings, and fantasized going to Hansen's and asking to get a bunch of weavers' rings made to unite us all, but we don't need a material thing, do we, to unite us. Besides, most weavers aren't rolling in disposable income, I'd imagine. No harm in fantasizing.
My writing workshop is a short walk from here. I'll be thinking of you today. In fact, I might cook up some strange back story for some of your lives.
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