Blogger Help, Please

Hello, friends.

If you've been on Blogger long enough, you may be as flummoxed as I about the changes on the operations side. Or, you may be young or young-in-the-head enough to enlighten me on a few points, if you please.

Note: I use Firefox on a laptop.

1) Who can comment, being the top issue I would like to fix.

 

I would like to set up who can comment like this:

But in "settings", these are the only options I have:

If I set it to Anyone, it defaults to Anonymous, which is what I want to avoid.

I monitor comments now because of spams. (I also have issues with legit comments without any name/moniker/identity, which is why I use Google Accounts, but that's a different issue.)

2) The ability to comment

Even when Blogger acknowledges I am logged in, (see the tiny profile pic?) sometimes I can't type on the Enter Comment line. This problem is sporadic, and neither can I tell what fixes it automagically, but it eventually does. Do you know why? Does it happen to you??

3) Blogger not acknowledging me as the author

As you can see at top right, Blogger knows I'm logged in, and presumably that I am the author. (Sometimes, even when I go from writing a post to View Blog, this doesn't happen.)  

But at the bottom, I don't get the pencil mark to allow me to go straight into the post to edit/amend. For a spelling mistake from 9 years ago, I must go search for the posts in the Posts/Published section.

Whereas on some of the other blogs, I get the pencil. I don't remember changing anything, although I may have in 18 years of Unravelling.

From Layout/Main/Blog Posts/Edit, I don't see a likely button for the pencil.

Any ideas? (I'm also curious about the Author Profile at the top of this last pic, as opposed to Show Author about the middle in the top pic.)

Since Google started begging for cookies on my own blog, posting photos is slower or the screen freezes. I'm sure Google is storing all of our photos somewhere for their use, even in private blogs. It makes me even more cautious about posting people pics, which is sad.

Thank you for any help, in advance.

[EDIT] I just realized I asked for your help but you may not be able to comment because of the various problems I described!! If this is the case, please email me at MegWeaves at gmail dot com. Thank you.

Reboot

I've become energized about coming out of semi-retirement and weaving other than self-indulgence projects. It took a month to determine what I want to focus on in the near future, after months of not knowing what I want to weave for the Suter Store. (Interesting how retail outlets are called "shops" in New Zealand, while "stores" may refer to storage facilities, yet websites often have "store finders", and the Suter calls its own a "Store". It's a conspiracy to trip up implants like me, I tell ya.) 

I categorized the kind of weaving I've engaged in, and ordered them on a scale of difficulty/ease or time spent making a piece. In doing so, I realized I love designing, planning, and sampling, and don't mind loom-dressing, so I was comparing only the actual weaving part. 

The easiest/quickest is on the four-shaft Jack, with easy treadling. This can be a twill, basket weave, (two shuttles, but easy once you get used to it,) or something like this:  

Then the option slits three ways. One is clasped-wefts on the four-shaft with easy treadling, which can be time-consuming but not difficult; I just have to pay attention to the line two wefts create. And the good news is, a young jewelry maker called my attention to the fact two weft colors look more effective than three or more. Who doesn't love it when the simpler option works better.

The second option is to weave a slightly more complicated pattern on the Ashford eight-shaft table loom, (which I'm not using at the moment as I find it hard to monitor the pick since the breast-beam-to-heddle is too short for the purpose,) or even Klik, (super easy to dress, cumbersome to lift/drop shafts, which is why I tend to save this for learning new structures or abbreviated sampling.) But cashmere survives the shed in both looms.

The third option is fussy twills on the 16-shaft computer dobby. I usually use one shuttle at a time, but the shafts are lifted with an air-compressor-solenoid combo, so the rhythm of weaving is left to the mechanism rather than my body, and it's a bother weaving backwards when I make mistakes. But I like the look and hand of these. 

Cashmere, though, can't withstand the large shed of the 16-shaft, so in future, I'll be using more 30/2 merino in the warp and cashmere in the weft as I did in the piece below. Although I learned to weave on 16/2 merino and I miss them dearly, these thinner merino will allow even skinny silk in the weft, so I'm looking forward trying that.  

At the most time-consuming end is the tied-unit weave I indulge in. I'm also looking at different ways of including random shapes onto the woven cloth, but I haven't focused on a particular method yet, and I must do a lot of sampling to figure out whether it's worth the time required to weave a piece this way vs. the visual impact of the clasped wefts, for example, not to mention the hand of pieces with uneven wefts.

I guess categorizing isn't going to determine what I'll weave when; I'm going to keep weaving what I want to. But I hope thinking about this will help me use my time more efficiently so I don't get bogged down on only the pleasure projects.

There is a lot to look forward to. I'm currently weaving the last piece on the gray-ish cashmere warp on the Jack; I was so looking forward to weaving more in a similar pattern on a two-grays warp for a while, but now I can't stop thinking about clasped weft in saturated pules, greens, teal if I have some. (The burgundy warp is half-length, so two scarves, which makes it even more tempting.) I'll keep you posted.

How Times have Changed

I am back at the Suter; that is, I've had some scarves at the Suter Store since mid-April. That morning, I surveyed the shop focusing on woven textiles, and found quite a few things had changed in the five years I wasn't paying attention:

* There were blankets manufactured by a UK company using NZ wool; the manager said it's fine because of NZ wool and because nobody is weaving blankets.
* There is a local manufacturer machine-weaving scarves. I believe they are woven on a wide warp, and then cut vertically. The tags declare, "No two pieces are the same." 

* There are weavers who do not specify fiber contents.
* There are weavers who list phone/email/website on their tags; an absolute no-no when I started placing pieces in galleries, but Stella reckons that's normal (now), so I'm outdated.

* The price of woven items have gone up, to the point prices I had in mind for mine didn't not seem out of place.
* The gallery store still looks dignified and beautiful. It's worth/a pleasure having my pieces there again.

I made an appointment with the shop manager ahead of time, with the expectation of the usual discussion on review of pieces/trends/colors/fibers/prices/shop vision, etc, but that was not to be. I was faced with quite a lot of changes compared to earlier experiences, but a month on, I got over the feeling between shock and surprise, and have a clearer idea of where I want to go. 

Other weavers make finely crafted pieces in reliable styles and colors to suit a range of tastes. I feel freer to make wacky/shocking, less precisely woven pieces, taking advantage of the fact this is an art gallery shop. Of course not all pieces will be "out there," we are talking about me after all. But I feel lighter, and I'm thinking of some clasped wefts, popular among my friends, in the near future.

We Almost Cancelled a Holiday but are Glad We Didn't

A week before we went away, I almost cancelled our holiday. Thinking about Palestine, Ukraine, Syria, Afghanistan, Sudan, Belarus, Somalia, Georgia, "oh-my-gosh-who-else-am-I-forgetting?" I could not in good conscience have a holiday in the woods by the sea, just because we live in a safe, beautiful place.

But then I thought about the three weeks we spent preparing for the trip. And the six months we counted down the days since we booked the trip. And how life has become rougher in those six months: my mom's deterioration and how my sister shoulders all contacts with the care facility and most decisions; our destroy-everything government targeting, among many, many other things, the Treaty of Waitangi, for goodness sake; the environment, which should be everybody's top priority but appears on everybody's back burner... I conceded we need a time out, away from the Internet, to regain a sense of... I'm not sure what I expected. 

Here's a weird thing: the last time we went to Golden Bay, I couldn't stop contrasting the lifestyle of Kiwis and Japanese, (I'm oversimplifying both, but bear with me,) the space and privacy we can now enjoy vs. the constant crowd and noise, even when we are away in the mountains, for example. For some reason, I kept seeing flashbacks of the gazillion hours of train commute I suffered, (45 minutes until age 13, 90 minutes until I went to the US, between 100 and 130 minutes to work, each way; Dad did 130 min for 40 odd years;) strangers' bodies pressed against each other for hours in shaking, vibrating carriages, where at times you couldn't even scratch your itchy nose. Gross, eh. Ben used a line famous for passengers cracking ribs in the overcrowding. I felt sad that we, urban Japanese, had/have to live like that, and that most of my friends and family will never experience the kind of serenity we now get to enjoy. 

 

The weeks leading up to our holiday this time around, I replayed walking from one end of Yokohama Station to the other, because my two lines had platforms at the opposite ends. When I was a kid, it was a job just to keep up with everybody's pace; even as an adult, I tried not to stop, trip or push. Yokohama Station is the fifth busiest station in Japan according to one website; about 2.1 million passengers go through it daily. Back then, the station had only one concourse connecting the East and West exists, and it was famous for crowding. Nothing "bad" happened; no crimes, no accidents, no concert-like injuries; it was just a way of life, not even unique to Yokohama Station. With a few new concourses, it's still pretty much the same.

I don't know why my brain kept replaying this 24/7; in the days I lived there, it annoyed me, but not to this degree; it was just inescapable. We were so right to move here when we could. And I'm glad we went on this holiday; we've never experienced decompression like this, and we hadn't realized how much we needed it. 

Take care, everybody. I hope you do what you need to keep sane, too, if/when you can, if you need it.

On Spinning

Recently, Ben and I went north to Golden Bay for a week of R&R. Since I like a wee project on these holidays, I chose spinning. I'm a sorry carder and a laughable spinner, so I don't know what came over me, but every few years I like to spend time making bad yarn. I aspire to make bad-but-interesting yarns I can use in the weft, but alas, this time, that wasn't to be. Still, every day for a week, after I cleaned the kitchen and Ben took position at his jigsaw puzzle table, I went to the sun room and spun for several hours. (I am not showing you anything, oh, no! They are really bad. Perhaps if I knit or weave something interesting, I might change my mind. Or, I need a picture to make you fall off your chair laughing, I'll think about it.)

 

I think I spin in the eternal hope I can make OK yarns without going through the rigor of learning spinning properly. As it is, I concentrate hard I'm completely in the "here and how", and/or inside the world of whatever fiction/podcast I'm listening to. I can't even think about weaving as I spin, but I do watch colors mix/mingle/combine right in front of me, in my hands, even more urgently than on the loom. It is a private, self-indulgent activity. 

I'm not even sure why I felt compelled to share this with you, but we all have those things not directly connected, yet not unrelated, to the real thing we feel deeply about, don't we? And at times, we need to retreat into our cocoons to... chill? reset? reboot, don't we? 

 

Now that I told you about my bad (and some OK) pottery, and bad spinning, let's make it a trifecta; one of the things Ben and I enjoy is badminton. But we were so bad, the first day we played we were laughing so hard we couldn't stand straight; the best we managed was three hits (?) back and forth. Not each. The second time we got up to maybe seven or eight. But the third time, we managed around 30 a few times, in between laughing, and the walking over to pick up the birdy 30cm away, and doing weird dances to entertain each other. So, hooray to a place in the woods where we could play bad-badminton.

On Pottery - In Particular, the Shocking Thing Ben Did

We got our pottery stones/pebbles from my class. I might have spoken too quickly when I said pottery is out of my system after fifty years of longing in mere two sessions. In the second half of the four week course, you could say, overall, I had a blast, and now I'm addicted to the idea of making gazillion stones/pebbles. Though the required slab plates and such will remain unseen by the world forever; are you kidding me? They are seriously hideous, and you might have heard me scream, "UGLY UGLY UGLY" inside my head if you were paying attention, but they were useful in learning how to handle clay. Which is not easy. Anyway, here are my lovelies.

I love the color blue, but not this glaze. In future, I will combine it with the charcoal, or white, or something else. I shaped the smooth stones, Ben the uneven ones, (two with the complex pattern at the bottom and one with two cuts in the middle,) at home over Easter, and I did all the glazes in class. 

 

Now when I make stuff, it helps to have a mind-picture of how they look completed, and here I had beach rocks in mind. I then strive to make things as close to the mind-picture as I can, as an object separate from myself. Ben, on the other hand, has a completely different way of making things, which I didn't notice as he sat across the kitchen table, but showed me after these came home. 

Every piece, stones and small vessels, ten in all save possibly two or three, has his body imprint, and how he loves to hold them and use them. What a renegade! And it's just the way he is in life: uncomplicated, WYSIWYG, straight, honest, unpretentious, and unapologetic. And that's rare in a culture, Japanese, where appearance is important and one's maturity can be measured in tactical use of Honne vs Tatemae. His way of making is so foreign to me, but I envy his childlike joy. I can't even begin to contemplate if/how I can incorporate this into my weaving, or if I want to, but here we are.

 

What next? Well, Esther is having an Intro II course in June/July. I need to weigh my desire to make more rocks vs. hunkering down to get serious, once again, about my weaving now. Stay tuned.