I finished threading the "Pillars" warp at long last yesterday morning. It'd been a dusty and trying chore, and I realized I'd had a slight cold, with slight fever-induced aches. These had puzzled me because I don't get limb aches from threading.  Anyhoo, it's done. Except I have three extra warps; the network twill progressing mostly in groups of three ends, I assume I skipped a step somewhere which should become evident in the sampling. I hope.

I only have some early stages of sample drafts but no final ones. And I haven't finalized the weft combination yet, either. Sampling different ways of washing/fulling/pressing should be interesting, too. I'm giving most of the coming week for these tasks.

I've been reluctant to move ahead with this project because I feel lost. (I've actually been having great old giggles picturing a fat 3-year-old moving in slow motion because Mommy told her to hurry!)  I felt progressively less excited about "Pillars" as it becomes real; I don't think this is going to be a particularly "pretty" project and I don't feel as enthusiastic about it as other Strands member feel about their projects. Part of me is wondering what it is I want to weave, and the sane part of me is pushing me to keep going because at least I'll have something in the exhibition, as opposed to nothing. Pat said she's working on her current piece in the same manner, not asking herself any questions. And the theory is, if I get the darned Pillars woven, I'll have time to weave something I like better.

I've been skipping from one book to another, but sticking with the Gender & Identity book, which turned out to be really readable in most parts, (and not overwhelmingly about genders,) a Thames & Hudson Australia's pretty volume on weaver Liz Williamson, (click here and entire "Liz Williamson: Textiles" in the title search,) and the NZ Gardener's old special issue about growing flowers.

Liz Williamson's book in particular has highlighted how much I envy people who have come to weaving earlier in life. I don't regret most things in my life, the choices I made, but I keep wishing I had come to weaving earlier in life, as you know, and most recently, (I can't remember what triggered me but it was something tiny that happened while threading the darned gray warp,) I wished I could be 44 again. It doesn't have to be 44, it could be 40 or even 47, but just far enough to my pre-many-bodily problems era, so that I could have perfected (??) some aspects of my weaving before body problems took over; that I could have been ahead of where I am now before now. I don't often think of how old I am chronologically; they don't limit me to behave in certain ways as it might if I lived in Japan, but that I can't weave seven hours a day now, that it takes me longer to learn new things but an instant to forget even old things, frustrate me. And the wacky part of me keep hoping I'll stumble upon a magical mysterious herbal cure that makes me 44 again.

Her book points out, like a giant female finger from the heavens, how I've become rather blind to the things I have had in my life, that I am indeed turning into an old, envious hag. And how I always seem to focus on (the lack of) travel opportunities. That and my destination addiction ought to give some psychologist an interesting case study! 

Meanwhile, I shall go get the loom ready for some sampling.

I wonder how old I have to be to feel comfortable in my own skin!


  1. As it happens, I will stop being 44 on Friday, and I must say that at the moment I am looking forward to being 45! This hasn't been one of my best years so I wonder whether in a decade or so I shall look back at it fondly? I did enjoy the year of being 40 a lot, as it was a relief not to be in my 30s any more. However, a friend told me the other day about research which found that in the UK 45 is on average the "low point" in people's lives, so maybe I will have to wait another 12 months before things improve? But then you know what I think about averages...

  2. Well, HBD2U two days in advance. Besides, you're above others, Cally, so you must have done the bad year ahead of the calendar? 44 wasn't a particularly good or bad year for me; that was just 10 years ago. Now 45, that was a strange year. I remember the birthday, but then a few days later I started thinking I was 46. A few days before my 46th birthday, I had to count and recount and realize I had to do 46 all over again. That's about when I started not to remember exactly how old I am.


I love comments. Thank you for taking the time to leave one. But do be sure to leave your real or blog name.