Thoughts on the Retirement Commission

Today, (and according to the forecast, for seven days starting yesterday,) we had such poor weather, not quite rain, (20 drops per day,) but sometimes gusts, bad for photo shoots. But the piece needs delivery on Monday, so here we go.

The long (5-7mm) floats take on a slightly curvy look reminiscent of the very long (silk?) floats on the back of Southeast Asian weaving. At first I didn't like it, but it's growing on me as something new/different.

Showing off the sheen and 3D-ness of the fulled weft. The color is fairly accurate.

This is the first piece, besides samples, I wove entirely with this 2/30 merino. Previously I've used it doubled in the warp for the elephants with cashmere wefts, and doubled (?) in the weft for two baby blankets with 50/50 merino/mohair for the warp. I love the sheen, the weight and the drape of the piece, and for something I wove, it's impressively parallel and perpendicular.

Mom was always nuts about woven pieces being light-weight, and she influenced me a lot when I started using cashmere. Early on I wove with 2/26 warp yarns at 12EPI. But I moved on to 15EPI for smaller pieces and 18EPI for wider ones, because I prefer the cloth to have some weight rather than imitate clouds and cotton candy. More pertinently, you need weight for drape. Also, Japanese taste and New Zealand taste are different; heftier, denser pieces are more successful here, even if I use coarser/scratchier yarns.

Until this 2/30, in the decade+ I didn't have a default merino, I aimed for an equivalent of 2/16 at 18 to 20 EPI with whatever merino I could get my hands on. For this warp, I used two ends of 2/30 at 24EPI, (two ends threaded together, so the true EPI being 48,) denser because the warp was first intended for a couch blanket. It created a wonderful drape, and so I kept it, but for scarves/shawls, I must also experiment with less dense EPI to take advantage of merino's fulling ability. Even though this is superwash, it fulls nicely.

I wrote a whole paragraph about how the sample feels airier and looks as though the yarn, especially the warp yarns, seemed to have fulled more, how I usually wash samples and what I did to this piece yesterday. But closer inspection, measurements and photographic evidence don't substantiate my claim. I shall revisit if I discover something, as I still have the pink and two-color ones to finish.

I am happy with the overall result, and I think it suits a retirement present. Being 62 myself, and realizing just this morning, because I don't work for an organization there will never be an official retirement party for me, (darned, that gold watch!) it was especially nice to get a good piece off the loom. I think Ben has tried to tell me, among other things, the technical superiority of this piece, (by which I mean, better than usual,) is visible even from a distance. And he likes the colors. And since both the retiree and client are his colleagues, he's allowed to bask in the vicarious glory.

Just kidding.

Possibly the Last of Plague Misc Thoughts

I hear today is winter solstice; not my favorite day not because the day is short, but it marks the halfway point of winter, my preferred season. Although it will often get colder and frostier from now some years, it still means evenings grow shorter and we head towards the warmer, sunnier season. We're also supposed to plan garlic today, but I haven't yet pulled out cornflower from the veg patch because they are still flowering!

* * * * * 

We've lived in this house for 23 and a half years, but the gates were closed just once for a few days when a bullmastiff roamed our street. It was an old, gentle dog, but always accompanied by a hyperactive boarder collie mommy and pup. One day a few summers ago, I was inspecting three cashmere pieces spread out on the floor and heard heavy breathing; when I looked up I saw the two border collies bouncing on the carpet followed by the big guy making sure nothing bad happened to them. I left the gates open after that because I learned they just jumped over if they wanted in, but the doors remained closed no matter how hot the day. And it was a particularly hot summer.

These gates were closed a second time for 49 days during Level 4 and 3 lockdown. 

* * * * * 

After 86 days at home, Ben went back to the office last Monday. This was taken on Saturday when we brought his equipment back to the office. This has been the longest we've been together 24/7, (except a couple of solo trips Ben made to the PO Box,) and a dress rehearsal for retirement. I'm pleased I didn't interrupt him as much as I thought I would.

* * * * *

On June 9 we started the second week of Level 1, meaning within our national boundaries our lives are back to normal. The best thing about Level 1 has been being out of Level 2, a most ambiguous stage where folks did whatever they liked. We opted to be on the cautious side, but every time we stepped out, we realized we were a small minority, but at times even I slipped up. In Level 1, we still do a few things:

* Keep record of where we've been, either electronic tracking app or by writing down;
* Wash our hands;
* Stay home if sick;
* Seek medical help if we develop flu-like symptoms;
* Self-isolate if instructed by medical professionals.

On June 16, after more than three weeks of no new/active cases, as we started the second week of Level 1, two Kiwis returning from UK tested positive. We were always ready to have folks returning from overseas test positive, but the great trans-island escapade of these two on "compassionate leave", two others "going missing" after a day pass to a funeral, and oh-so-much other sloppiness of  border control and lack of testing became apparent.

As of today, we have seven active cases, all related to returning Kiwis, including, worryingly, one baby. "Compassionate leave" has been suspended; Jacinda swiftly put a retired military man overseeing returnees' isolation; and the ministry is now doing testing they said they had been doing. We may get more cases with increased/proper scrutiny; I hope no clusters emerge from asymptomatic returnees having been released and being out and about.

* * * * *

At the start of the lockdown, I connected with different people in different ways; I even imagined I might develop new friendships. But as we progressed in our respective stages of lockdown, we seemed to have felt more comfortable in the new normal and less in need to connect; replies became delayed/scarce, and I also owe two friends emails still. It appears gradually we've all gone back to our old/normal-time friends.

* * * * *

Sometime between Level 3 and Level 2, I felt my adrenaline drain out. I don't know if the lack of clarity of rules caused it, or if I got used to unpredictability as norm, but it was definitely a physical experience. I had never felt anything like that before.

* * * * *

We went into town last weekend, and it was kind of disappointing how quickly we forgot about our rules and precautions; we brought our purchases into the house straight away, and didn't even think of washing our clothes and jumping into the shower before coming upstairs to our living quarters. I have to make myself wash my hands the correct way every night just so I don't forget how.

People around town appeared likewise. Thomas at Volume lamented we smiled more at strangers during lockdown,just to stop and yield to maintain physical distance. Nobody does that any more. People appear so busy. It's as though, for many, the lockdown didn't happen, or they prefer not to be reminded of it.

I myself haven't made new discoveries, gained new insights, formed new habit nor included/began something new in life. That was a little disappointing at first, but it being me, something might materialize later.

If I must come up with something, I may be spending less time feeling guilty about what I should be doing and just do them, or not do them. It's as if I've deleted an unproductive layer in my thinking. The agapanthus removal, for e.g., has been going on forever because I've been working on it so sporadically, but I'm pretty sure it will get done before spring. I feel similarly about a lot of my projects and have been able to get on with whatever I am doing on the day. I'm not sure if I'm getting more, or less, done, but it's so uncomplicated, and I hope this is a real change.

* * * * *

I'm really into Indian cooking à la Little India, a popular New Zealand restaurant chain, at the moment. I've carried their cookbook around the house, read a couple of recipes, trying to learn their use of spices. I enjoy taking half a day to cook dinner, and because I've been following recipes, I'm getting better results. I'm also baking sourdough bread again, after we were ever so disappointed by a rye loaf from a fancy bakery. I make just one loaf a week, but I'm concentrating on rye, Ben's fav, and spelt, mine. Bread has always been difficult for me, though, and we've been getting varied results. But seriously, we should ease up on carbohydrate, especially after our consumption jumped up during lockdown. That's harder now it's colder and neither of us feel much like big salads for dinner, but we've been conscientiously making kumura mash and riced cauliflower, and Ben's been keeping a steady supply of coleslaw.

Last year my jaw dropped when I saw three tuis on a miniature Kowhai outside my stash room. Yesterday we had four, with more calling high above. Many appear smaller than usual, but we can't tell their sizes accurately because when it's cold or windy they fluff up to about three times the size. One tiny one likes to travel and snack solo, and stay well away from others feuding. At least two larger ones like to pick on a (particular?) small one not only while snacking but all over the sky. We had such good shows and some good pics, but Ben decided this morning he had enough of them and needed to do other stuff. :-D

I feel strangely grounded being preoccupied by these birds. I just wished the garden was in a better shape, but I'm pretty sure it, too, will be prettied up a little before spring.

Oh, My, We Have Progress

I finished weaving the commission Wednesday night. I had the feeling there wasn't enough warp left for another proper, longish piece, but I was sure I could get a short scarf or a cowl/snood. I wanted to weave with the yellow-green weft I had in mind earlier, but after I got started, I decided to mix it with a brick-orange weft, which also looked interesting in the sample.

Here you can see how the yellow-green interacts with the warp colors.

I finished the warp tonight. Although just off the loom and unfinished/unwashed, all three have a lovely weight and hand, and I know they will finish airy and soft. So far so good.

As you can see, because the purple hue is close to the warp colors, the warp stripes are more visible, while the pink and yellow-green/brick-orange blends (?) all the colors.

While weaving the purple commission piece, I was reminded of a time when New Zealand was mad about paua (abalone) colors and motifs a while back. I had a small amount of the purple-variegated merino-mohair put away, with which I had made a warp for a small scarf. I'm weaving this next and continue experimenting with color combinations.

For a while now I've been trying to change the looks of my pieces, from fussy twills to something more bold and "interesting", contemporary. I'm still interested, but it's on hold for now because I'm enjoying experimenting with colors interaction. Also, for now, I'd rather be busy weaving instead of (over)thinking and not weaving.

I'm not sure what sort of pattern I'm weaving with this warp, but most likely another fussy twill, perhaps asymmetrical this time.

Notes: 2/30 merino, 48EPI, threaded in pairs; 17.7 inches wide on the loom; pink and purple are 220-230cm long; yellow-green/brick-orange  is 130cm. 

Retirement Gift

We interrupt our somewhat regular irregular sporadic ?? broadcast for an emergency commission.

At 6.30AM yesterday a former colleague of mine, (currently Ben's,) emailed an inquiry about a purple shawl for a retirement present due the end of the month. Oh, yes, said I; I could get started immediately. All I had to do was to take out four yellow-green picks of plain weave and replace the floating selvedge. And modify the draft.

The purple weft color is too similar to the warp colors the design disappears, so I gave the draft long floats.

For the yellow-green weft, I was thinking of something like this with lots of interlacement.

This is close to the draft I used for the pink piece; floats and interlacement is between the above two.

Ben also knows the giftee, too. He said this would suit her. Goodie.

Days of a Plague Day 33+16+22, June 4 - Day 33+16+26, June 8

Day 33+16+22, June 4. (Text and pic on Day 33+16+23.) My most favorite plant for the last couple of decades has been hellebores, although I have a dozen close-seconds. I have two deep purple-gray singles, the color usually called "slate", with which I'm completely smitten. My original source in Southland has more some years, none some years, but quit offering the smaller pots I used to buy. I can't dig holes big enough to fit the large pot plants where I know they will thrive. (And be with other slates, just outside my kitchen window.)

So over the years, I've collected self-seeded babies, transplanted them in good positions or pots, pollinated and sowed seeds, as well as bought seeds from Europe and Japan, all to varying degrees of "dismal". It's partly because hellebores take so long to germinate/flower, hybridization by pollination is unstable, but also because slates yield so few seeds, self-seeders don't survive, and I wondered if they are bred to be sterile.

Like many seeds, these are best sowed immediately or as soon as harvesting, which I did, undeterred by past failures, in spring; kept them in the shade, watered them all summer. I haven't read they need the cold to germinate, but what did I see this morning? They suddenly popped up, and this year they're doing better than their reliable pink sisters.

All morning I wanted to keep chomping at the agapanthi, (I'm sticking to my new word here,) because the sun was out at the start, but it got darker, and it started to rain as forecast, and by evening we were startled by multiple instances of loud noise as if someone was dragging a huge American metal dumpster up the hill. Until we realized it was thunder! We couldn't see any lightening, but found out folks were enjoying gazillions to the southeast, the very direction we can't see over the hill just behind our house. By the time we finished dinner, the sound had subsided. Gosh, darn.

Day 33+16+23, June 5. Here's a view perhaps only weavers appreciate; I'm looking up from underneath the cloth, where my legs are when I weave. We're looking at what I've already woven, though perhaps you got that.

Today I wove another hour and a half, one half repeat, 704 picks, 65cm. With this project that's about all my eyes can take in one sitting. But because I'm not in a rush to get more done, maybe it will be well-woven. The selvedge looks OK. But then most of my pieces look OK at this stage, so we'll find out when the piece is washed.

We had glorious sun today and I really wanted to keep butchering the agapanthi. I went outside after lunch to walk around in the sun, but the ground was not only squishy wet but Ben thought it'd be slippery, and although I'm not working on the steepest part, it's still a tricky slope where I have to contort myself to accomplish what I hope to do, so I wove instead.

New Zealand had our 14th day of no new and one remaining active cases. Even Jacinda's prime ministerial visit pics don't adhere to prescribed physical distancing. Some of us are cautiously optimistic; some of us have lived in "what-physical-distancing?" mode for a while.

Minneapolis had Mr George Floyd's memorial. There have been lots more details coming out, about Mr Floyd and the four policemen, confirming nothing is as simple as I'd like the world to be. People in the media say this time it will be different; I can't be so optimistic. Also true, I never imagined Minneapolis to become a microcosm of the current America. There is the Plague still kicking and screaming in the US, not to mention the "usual" but accelerated disregard for law and tradition by those in charge. Friends, do be careful; do not be afraid to nag your loved ones to be vigilant. If that fails, you yourself be careful.

* * * * *

From time to time I'm unable to take good pics or write a summary of the day for my Plague diary, and worked on it the next day. For the first time this week I didn't post two days running, and I wondered if I was un/sub-consciously sabotaging. I hope not because shooting pics today was particularly fun. I've had sleeping problems and my days have been are muddled. Perhaps I was just cranky. So, seeing as it's extremely likely we'll move to Level 1 sometime next week or the Monday following, for somewhat of a symmetry, I'll keep going until then. Unless I change my mind.

Day 33+16+24, June 6. A huge-for-Nelson Asian food store opened about a year ago. We go periodically to stock up on few staples. From the writing on the packages, we think a Korean family owns it, but it also carries plenty of Chinese and Japanese products. At the check out are few treats, among them this hard candy in an impossible-to-open tin. Apparently two companies by the same name had similar products, and I've seen 1908 and 1913 cited as the start of these.

Dad had one of these tins in his bag or desk drawer from time to time. Dad did not have sweet teeth, but he was a heavy smoker who had to talk a lot for work, a teacher, so when his throat got dry, he'd get a tin at train station kiosks. And whenever we found them he gave us one.

We resisted picking this up for a year but today we treated ourselves. They still taste the same - nothing extraordinary, just sweet, hard candies in different colors but the same taste - but the tin looks oh-so-much smaller.

Ben just told me there was a small BLM gathering today in Nelson. Had we known, we would have gone, but instead we contributed to the local garden center, Asian food store, and supermarket economy. The only discernible social distancing were floor markings and sanitizers in stores. Though we carried gloves and masks in our pockets, even I forgot we had them. And though we left home prepared for military-style food acquisition, we simplified our process: we washed all veg and transferred protein to our own containers, but we didn't wipe packaging, but just left them in the basement to rest for a couple of days.

The comment sections in NZ media's coverage on BLM are divided, vicious and ugly in some instances. Needless to say, I'm a little scared showing up in public places taking a stand because I can't run fast any more. If just wearing a mask entering a store can solicit horrible reactions in little old ladies, (last week, not today,) I'm not sure how I'd react facing vitriol in a gathering, although, also true, these gatherings in Nelson always take place peacefully. But we would have gone had we known.

[EDIT] Ben says different colors most definitely taste differently based on scientific experiments.

 

Day 33+16+25, June 7. Today I wanted to weed and weave. Undecided, I dithered in the kitchen in my weeding gear, and ended up weaving. The funny thing about weaving is, some days my brain goes into overdrive while weaving, and I can't stop it from coming up with gazillion ideas. Some days it's future weaving ideas, other days it's a story idea, and yet others, it's endless To Do List items to add and edit. Today was weaving ideas.

Some days I have to stop weaving and write them down. Today I ignored them but my brain kept working on three projects at once, doing the math and making up drafts, ignoring me and the weaving in front of me.

I also noticed, perhaps for the first time, this happens when I listen to familiar music. Which explains why I haven't experienced this for a while. I've been listening to podcasts and audiobooks, (two birds one stones, I thought,) so I'm too busy trying to understand what I was listening to. I don't know which is better; an overactive brain can get super annoying. But for now I'll stick to music.

I almost set for another warp in this yarn combination and sett, good idea for the narrow gold cotton warp, and some options for the wider gold cotton warp. All variation on a theme, so similar to each other, but different enough. I'm happy for now.

Day 33+16+26, June 8. Today I got out of bed resolved to tackle the agapanthi, but wanted to find out the time for Jacinda's announcement. I cleaned the kitchen, finished one opera, roasted beetroot, but couldn't find the info. At 1.30PM, I read my nemesis will have an announcement at 3PM, but it did not mention Jacinda, so I assumed she's on at 4PM, her somewhat usual time when Cabinet meetings are involved. That would have left me only a couple of hours to work outside if I wanted to get out of the shower by 4, so I wove.

Usually I try to shoot my weaving when I'm finished for the day, in late afternoon or evening, under artificial light. When I got off the bench to stretch, mid-afternoon, I saw a good angle to show off the warp colors and simultaneous contrast with the weft in natural light. I finished this piece, and got the next one set up, but I want to alter the draft/pattern, and it was 3.45, so I thought it perfect time to resurface and watch Jacinda with Ben.

Next piece will have a light yellow green weft seen here at the edge. On it's own, it's a somewhat shouty color, but the interaction with the weft colors are sublime. 

But, gosh, darn, Jacinda spoke at 3PM, with my nemesis! So As I type I'm trying to listen to a recording. If you'd like to watch the start of her delightful announcement, I attach a link. But don't bother with the media questions; they are usually repetitive and uninformative, and I think I finally heard Jacinda says, "Ugh."(Skip to 16.50.) At the end, she thanked us.

Jacinda Level 1 Announcement

After 17 days of no new case, New Zealand has no more active case and as of midnight tonight, we are moving to Level 1. As far as Ben and I are concerned, this means life back to normal within NZ. Borders remain (conditionally?) closed and flights scarce, but otherwise this is the end of Plague, (although there may still be new cases popping up.) Ben will resume working at school next Monday. He had put in a request for Wednesday off and we have to rebuild his work setup on the weekend.

75 days on, I'm also concluding this Plague diary*. Thank you for sticking by me. I wish the rest of the world speedy normalization and light heart soon.

*I have two posts I've been writing alongside the diary. I'll decide what to do with them in the next few days.

Days of a Plague Day 33+16+15, May 28 - Day 33+16+21, June 3

Day 33+16+15, May 28. First flowers on the miniature kowhai, the tree from which I collected seed pods to give away. I was supposed to prune this some time ago; it has to wait now.

Next in line.

Crab apples this year is the size of normal apples, possibly due to unscheduled pruning in late spring.

The quadrant I'm supposed to be finishing, Northwest, is diagonally opposite of this area. Although you can only see a smidgen of our garden from the house, the this patch is viewable, and I've been dying to move on to here, but the somewhat-OCD side of me dictates not to leave unfinished patches before I move on. 

Yesterday's outing was so stressful I was completely useless after we came home in early afternoon. Before we went to bed I declared to Ben, today I would weed come hell or high water. But I couldn't sleep and was exhausted in the morning so I made curry. I thought I would then weed, or weave, but instead, I read little bit of a manga-version of The Tales of Ise. So not my thing. So I went outside and swept the drive way because rain is forecast and I don't want the leaves to clog the storm water drain.

If it does rain tomorrow, I'll weave. If it doesn't, I'll go finish that patch.

Day 33+16+16, May 29. Today I wove on the big loom for about an hour and a half, and started making a white mercerized cotton warp I've had in mind for a few months. I want to make wide scarves with unmercerized blue cotton wefts in square-ish pattern, a kind of abstract Dutch tile motif.

I'm going to add more text here tomorrow.

(Day 33+16+17) I went to Washburn, from 1974 to 1977, a high school 11 long blocks south and 16 short blocks west of 38th and Chicago, where Mr George Floyd was murdered. The 16-year-old, 10-year-convent-school-veteran Me was not oblivious to race relations in the affluent, educated South Minneapolis. I had read about school desegregation and busing for several months before I left, and the late 60s political upheaval adjacent to Viet Nam War affected my family directly. But once installed, I felt more a sense of relief after Nixon resigned, (four days after I arrived,) and thought busing was a done deal, as I watched groups of classmates get off and on them every day. (I'm not sure if they were bused as a result of desegregation, however; I seem to recall kids who lived beyond a certain miles away from school had bus service.)

There were few mixed couples dating, and groups/cliques tended to be divided most evidently by racial lines, but also by neighborhoods/socioeconomic groups. Foreign students were deemed honorary white for the most part, refugees from Laos and Viet Nam unclear; a few traversed across divides freely.

So I was sincerely taken aback, in 76 or 77, in Mr Ario's senior Social Studies class, to hear one star student, (tall/handsome, popular, football, Homecoming, Student Council or Senior Class-something, if I remember correctly,) tell of a talk he had with his father, on how to interact with police officers, because chances were, he was going to be stopped for no apparent reason, many times. At first I thought the police would be insane to stop him of all people, but also ashamed to discover deep down I knew this to be true, and glad his father had the talk.

For most of my youth, I never doubted I would grow up to live in Minneapolis. I was besotted by the beautiful city and its institutions. And appreciated even though it is geographically in the Midwest, how liberal it was, especially in receiving Southeast Asian refugees in the 70s and gay teachers in the 80s. Nearly decade after I graduated, I was sad to read Mr Ario tell me he was almost relieved I was no longer there because race relations had deteriorated. I thought it would be temporary, because, after all, it's Minneapolis. I read its changes over the years, then tried not to keep up too closely, lest I'd be completely disenchanted.

I have been reading true, earnest testimonies of African American and others, and declarations by people in public positions. Maybe there will be something this time, even if the outcome in the past have been nearly universal inept. I hate to think all these promises are devoid of good intentions. But how do I shake off this overwhelming skepticism? How can Mr. Floyd be the catalyst?

I forget. I can't cite the names I rattled off as Ferguson burned. I can't connect the circumstances, cities and decades to the names. I had to look up the name of Mr. Philando Castile because all I could remember was the calm voice of his girlfriend. He was shot 2.5km north of my college. That was in St. Paul, in a different galaxy.

What must I do now?

Day 33+16+17, May 30. Today I tried to remember about when I was in high school. I looked at maps, and watched Minneapolis burn until live coverage ended, while Ben roasted coffee and made cheesecake.

Day 33+16+18, May 31. This is one color combo candidate for the Dutch tile-themed series. The blue is 1/30 brushed cotton single, so the weft will be two or three plied together. I have also two paler blues.

Today, outside looked cold and wet so we didn't weed. It turned out it wasn't as miserable as I imagined, though, because later in the afternoon we heard tuis and went outside trying to locate them, found we could shoot (pics of) them from my stash room from a distance of about 70cm, made too much noise in spite of our best efforts and lost them, then found them on top of a tall banksia but we/they were never in the right position to get a good shot. Then we found a skinny sparrow-sized pair with bright red spots in the head, (these guys visit a small rosemary bush every fortnight,) and Ben tried capturing them but an oregano bush got in his way. I need to finally plant that rosemary; it's still in a pot and sat on a path for three or four years and is now firmly rooted in situ. We had fun looking for the birds, though, and outside was cool and lovely. We will definitely try tomorrow.

Besides, Minneapolis didn't look so bad Saturday night their time, at least nowhere near Friday night. After something like 36 or 48 hours, (minus when I slept,) watching Lake Street, Nicolett, and 35W, I almost forgot we've still got a Plague.

Day 33+16+19, June 1. Last night I told Ben I'd garden today. I slept five hours, otherwise I read about and watched Minneapolis having a better night than the one before. The morning started slowly, I watched Minneapolis, again.

I saw peaceful protests, heard names of streets one or two blocks away from where I lived for a term, seconds away from Dinkeytown. Then I watched a huge truck try to ram right into a crowd, And then watched it replayed again and again and again.

We could have gardened, or I would have woven and worked on a warp. Or I might have sat in the kitchen watching more replays. Ben was easy either way. So we went outside, and finished clearing the northwest corner, put in eight pineapple sage, and pruned the apples. One apple tree needs more taken away, and I might put in more pineapple sage. It's right in front of Kathryn's garage, somewhere we can't see from our house, but still our patch.

Kathryn drove by, we went to see her finished living room, (lovely deep grey carpet - oh, so my color, but we can't have it because we have a darker house,) I gave her succulents and peace lilies, she had friends come over, we went back to task. The three ladies came out to tell me the friends are taking all the plants, so Katheryn took the rest of the succulents and peace lilies. Successful adoption. And I have future homes for two large pots of tiny peace lilies. What a relief.

I had four hours away from Minneapolis, and now I'm back. It's after midnight there so I'm watching reruns of reruns. I recognize names but not buildings and landmarks. I really have come so far away from that beautiful place, in distance and in time.

Tomorrow I can start hacking away the agapanthi (?), start working on the more familiar southeastern quadrant we can kind of see from the house, or weave.

 

 

Day 33+16+20, June 2. I don't know much about succulents and this is only the second I bought late last century; the first was a jade plant/money tree when I was 16. We got this for a particularly difficult patch and the original plant never looked great and is now all but gone, but it kept producing babies. This past summer we counted a dozen. Today, though, I noticed for the first time how it splits.

There is usually a yellow green rosette-shaped center and the older/outer "petals" (leaves?) turn purple, shrivel up and fall off, while the green center keep producing more from the middle. I didn't know how the stem split into multiple branches, but today I saw baby rosettes growing on the side/back of the original ones, so I assume the stem will split from these points as the babies grow bigger and taller.

I'm not sure what to do when these grow taller, though, because the stems are skinny and not hard but.. succulent, and can't support the weight of multiple large rosettes, which is when either the stems break or we cut off the new growth. The tiny babies are cute, but I'd also like to take better care of the parental unit, if there is a way.

Jacinda said the Cabinet will meet next Monday to discuss the possibility of moving to Level 1; we might go to that level later next week. I didn't pay attention so at some point, next Monday? I'll have to learn about Level 1.

Day 33+16+21, June 3. (Text and pic on Day 33+16+23.) Broad beans in bags/buckets. Even though we had rather dismal results from zucchini, spuds and cherry tomatoes in bags/buckets this summer, I'm hopeful these babies will be kinder. Or, what was that saying about doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?

Every muscle of my upper body is burning this evening after working on the not-as-steep part of the more or less same quadrant, and actually having great fun.

There is more talk Level 1 will commence sometime next week; we understand it to mean everything back to normal except the borders.

Days of a Plague Day 33+16+8, May 21 - Day 33+16+14, May 27

Day 33+16+8, May 21. (Text on Day 33+16+9.) Miserably cloudy/sunny/miserably cloudy/sunny and miserably cold. First time this winter I lit the fire in the morning. I was keen to make a wider gold warp, something I planned for many years, and dug up another piece I kept for reference, then all the sample swatches, intending to ponder and blog about it. But it was still cold, and I wonder if we have a mild cold; mild fever, mild headache, mild sore throat for a second day, (all of which would go away with one normal-dose paracetamol,) plus grownup-dose lethargy. I ended up gazing at the screen the whole day. At one point I thought of picking up a printed book, even had few great ideas, but didn't. Would anyone care to psychoanalyze?

Day 33+16+9, May 22. I did not wake up once overnight, which is a first in so long I don't remember how long. When I got up, I discovered Ben had washed the dishes as well as made me coffee. Yay.

We are two older folks who eat one or two meals a day these days, don't snack much especially now we don't have junk food in the house, but consume copious cups of tea/coffee/water. So what you see here is two days' worth of dishes. If we don't cook, there is very little to wash.

Which made me wonder why on earth I spend all morning most days washing dishes and cleaning the kitchen. Unless there are dire tasks, I loiter to kill time until the 1PM update. I refresh Facebook many, many times, as well as various Plague numbers and graphs; I often watch a Shakespeare play, or two, or an opera in that time. But I am definitely washing a lot. I also cook or prep dinner some days, but not every day, and I cannot think of what else I could be doing in the kitchen more than half a day each day.

That's it for today. I still don't know.

Day 33+16+10, May 23. We need/ed to go to the supermarket this weekend, but we were too tired today. One of us needed to cook, but we weren't motivated because whatever we made would have been similar to something else we made recently. So we decided to have one of our favs delivered, but remembering GPS points to our legal boundary and not the house nor the driveway entrance, I suggested we either walk or drive up to our post box, but Ben decided it's just as quick picking up the food ourselves.

It's a balmy lovely evening, folks are having parties at home, and the town is plenty busy. Our restaurant had a few groups and two waiting for takeaways, another man arriving as we left.

And there was not a mask nor glove in sight, but a lone sanitizer bottle outside the door. But you know, if this is the way Nelson rolls, there's really no use us getting uptight or sensitive. At least that's what we're telling ourselves. Except folks are now travelling domestically. I can't help worrying Corona coming in from other regions.

The food was yummy. But also... we our cooking improved quite a bit, especially in the curry department. That was illuminating.

Day 33+16+11, May 24. I was carrying some wood into the house when I kept hearing tuis calling from high above. Our maple is the highest tree at ours so I went inside to see if I can spot them from the other side of the house. Sure enough, there were two. One moving around within a small radius, while the other jumping around. You might be able to see the blob slightly to the left of the center; that's the still one, while a sharper shape higher (smaller) slightly on his/her right is the restless one. We enjoyed eavesdropping on their conversation for almost half an hour.

We, too, were jumpy because we had to go to the supermarket. New World had about a dozen in queue in the rain, again, so we went to Countdown where we were second in line. Once again, not a mask or glove in sight. We had on everything, but my glasses wouldn't stop fogging up so I took my mask off, them Ben did the same, but we kept our gloves on. Everybody, shoppers and staff, were ever so casual about distancing; I might have seen two other shoppers being mindful of the space around them. I was shocked to see the two meter marker near the till, and long that was. We are living as if Corona is finished in Nelson.

I've read articles to the contrary, but we did the standard denuding of groceries after we came home. The routine may be easier if we shopped more often, but so far we're erring on the side of quite a lot at once. We may need to add some veg and possibly milk, but this lot should serve us for at least a fortnight, if not longer.

Cabinet discusses the next move tomorrow. 

Day 33+16+12, May 25. (Text & pic on Day 33+16+13) There was no 1PM update. At 4PM Jacinda announced though we are still in Level 2, starting this Friday up to 100 people can congregate; cabinet will review rules/numbers on June 8; cabinet will decide, or we will exit, Level 2, no later than June 22.

I'm no longer paying much attention to the announcements because these details don't influence our lives. The only thing I took away is Ben will/might work from home until June 22, although not necessarily. I miss the clear-cut rules of Level 4.

I don't see Nelson observing physical distancing as prescribed. For e.g. the number of shoppers who can enter a supermarket is still controlled, there is hand sanitizers that nobody seem to be using, but once inside, at the one we shopped on Sunday, anything goes, shoppers and staff alike. I feel we are back where we were pre-Level 4 lockdown; we are on our own to fend for ourselves.

We have been eating a whole lot more carbohydrate. I blame colder temperatures and less frequent shopping, but carbos are so easy to plan meals with, to cook with, and so comforting. This is the first place we need to start practicing our post-Plague life, and by we, I mean I.

Day 33+16+13, May 26. (Text and pic on Day 33+16+14.) I sold a large cotton piece, so I had to handle it, folding, wrapping, weighing, etc. I love the weight and hand of my larger cotton pieces and don't know why I don't make more of them.

I'm trying to disengage from Plague news, (except where rules we must follow change,) because we are now in election mode and it's starting to get ugly.

Day 33+16+14, May 27. We were going to go into town, so I was going to do something funny outside Volume for a laugh, but Volume has irregular hours for now and we couldn't get our act together to be there before their..... 1PM closing. So this is a pic from late Sunday; I wanted to see the rearranged store interior but the car's reflection got in the way.

(Text on Day 33+16+15) Today was the third day in the last five we went into town. Ben checked the PO box, I posted a cotton scarf in the pre-paid mail drop box, we filled the car with petrol, and got the downstairs loo hose appropriated for the upstairs loo at the start of the lockdown. Again, I was the only person wearing a mask in any of these locations, and I only saw one other person besides Ben, a petrol station attendant, wearing gloves.

There are still rules regarding distancing, (2m from folks you don't know, 1m from those you do, presumably outside of your bubble, presumably to make contact tracing easier,) but most humans I saw, including at one school, stood, spoke, and touched each other as in the pre-Plague days. Stores open during the Level 4 lockdown, and some of their staff, appeared more aware of physical distancing, but humans in Nelson I saw were finished with "all that". Two or three older women in the hardware store hissed and glowered at seeing me in a unique, handwoven, homemade mask. Oh, the perils of Masking while Asian.

They say even if one knows something is untrue, if one hears it too many times, one begins to believe it. I know the numbers in New Zealand are good; I know the rules stipulated by the government, my bit I as a consumer and not a business operator, must follow. My nemesis, the Top Doc is "on the fence" about the mask, that is he doesn't come out and say you don't need them, but his entire being dismisses the issue whenever questioned. I also read about the second wave. And that NZ government now thinks unless it comes in from the outside, we're good to go. I am tired of feeling as if I must defend my take on masks. And politicians, academics, and the media will be opining/screaming especially loudly for the next four months.

I find the situation excruciatingly distressing. I'll just stay here until... whenever.

My favorite visitor. Or one of three favs, with Ben's zoom lens. Today's visit was short-ish, though; stay longer next time, and make it soon.

Re. the gold wider cotton warp, I decided not to make it now, but finish what's on the loom now, weave and  sample different setts with the narrower warp, then make a proper one based on the samples.

I've run out of lockdown adrenaline. I've been exhausted throughout this unclear Level 2 more than ever. The good part is, I've been thinking about weaving more or less consistently, a sign I'm thinking "normally"; the bad part is, my attention is otherwise preoccupied and my thinking doesn't translate into action.

I have a laughable problem: when to stop my FB Plague diary. The Internet recommended keeping a diary left, right and center, but never specified when/how to stop. Since I started the night before Level 4, I could have stopped at the end of Level 4. Or after the short-lived Level 3. Or since I started keeping a record of what we did when Ben started working at home, which turned into the start of Level 2, I can finish when we finish Level 2. Which is no further away than June 22, although that sounds so far away.

Or I could just stop whenever I feel like, like now. But the somewhat-OCD part of me doesn't allow that. So I guess I'll keep it up a while longer.

A Weaver Writes about Weaving

I made a gold warp on Wednesday. I expected to be excited or elated or something, but it felt just ordinary everyday normal. I'm going put this is the "good" column.

Earlier in the week I found a finished gold piece, roughly 6 inches wide, but I couldn't remember, and couldn't find my notes on, the sett. Since 2007ish when I started weaving with 2/20 mercerized cotton, I've woven variously in 36, 39 and 42EPI, 42EPI most often for the last many years, especially when wider.

So, for this warp, I decided 36EPI * 10 inches = 360 ends plus 4 for floating selvedge. After sampling, if I decide to stay with 36EPI, the pieces will be 10"/25cm wide on the loom; if I change my mind and weave at 39EPI, it's 9.23"/23cm; at 42, 8.57"/21.42cm. I can work with any of these width.

But I've wanted to weave a wide gold series for a long while and I wanted to make another warp. I could just assume 42EPI and somewhere between 20" and 24" wide, sample and finalize the sett on the loom. Or I could find other pieces/samples to be more precise. I chose diligence and found another finished piece, discovered the first sample was probably woven 42EPI, this one 36EPI, and a bunch of smaller swatches. And things got complicated.

I want to revisit my earlier style that look like curtains or upholstery fabric. These drafts have a lot of plain weave area mixed with long floats. My later drafts, in contrast, have less plain weave. At 42EPI, the old drafts look distinctively warp-colored on one side and weft-colored on the other.

The hand/texture of the cloth in two different setts are completely different. 36EPI looks gauzy, feels loose/soft and summery, texture akin to cotton weaving from the subcontinent, but threads snag easily. 42EPI is structurally neat/tight/sound but a bit stiff for the neck/face, more suitable for cutting and sewing almost, but possibly suitable for wider pieces. The hellebores, for e.g. were woven in 42EPI. If you shake the 42EPI cloth, it maintains a horizontal line, if you can imagine. It's not like, say, a lace curtain blowing in the wind, but slightly more like a narrow roll-up style bamboo shade.

The key attraction of the gold series is a) the brilliance of the cold threads, and b) the metallic color it creates in the simultaneous contrast with the weft colors. With 36EPI, the sheen of individual gold threads is more pronounced, and the cloth looks like collection of warp and weft threads while 42EPI cloth is more cohesive.

This may be the limit of my explanation in words. So far I haven't been able to find samples woven in 39EPI, but in the end I just have to sample, and then decide if I want a loose or tight look and texture. I might just make a 39EPI * 22" warp so I can change the sett in either direction.

I'll add some pics I took on a day when the sun kept hiding and coming out every five minutes.

36EPI

42EPI

Two faces of 42EPI

Attempting to show you the "metallic" look, 36EPI

* * * * * 

I sold one of the hellebore pieces to my friend Nancy. It was a great boost to propel me to my normal life. NZ$ continues to crawl, too, so it's still a good time to fill the shelves of my online store, something I thought I might do during the lockdown.

Except... I've also felt I don't want add to other people's... stash. Not in individual cases, like Nancy having something I made, that I haven't got a problem with. Nor anyone I communicate with directly. But in a most general way, putting things online and marketing them, putting links to my website on social media, all that endeavour sometimes feel as if I'm brandishing drugs in front of an addict, except my drugs are pretty. 

The question, "who really needs another scarf?" started to haunt me when disposable clothing became a frequent topic relating to the environment. At first I didn't realize folks threw those clothes away. There is a lot of poverty in NZ, and I don't have a lot of disposable income, so I thought inexpensive clothing was a problem only in how they compete against and undercut/destroy local manufacturing. But these days I'm reading about their disposal and in particular how much there is of clothes one can still wear, how "developping" countries suffer from being bombarded by these used clothes. I've come to think I want no part in this big picture.   

I'd like to think many people learned we can live with far fewer things from the lockdown/isolation/quarantine, to live a slower life, to make things ourselves, and to buy and accumulate less. I've always felt very strongly about this, to the point sometimes my mother was in tears looking at the clothes I though was OK to wear in public. I might tell you more about our family's story relating to this in the future. 

Businesses have suffered here as a result of the lockdown, like everywhere else, or even more so because New Zealand is such a small economy. There have been tremendous push to buy local, which in and of itself I endorse, but there is a fine line sourcing what we need locally vs. encouraging further consumption, "because we all saved so much money during the lockdown". You see where I'm going with this? Many folks lost jobs or their hours have been reduced. And yet there is real, tremendous pressure to consume now in New Zealand. And I have a hard time reconciling being a handweaver of nice scarves and being part of the worldwide effort to reduce. There is such a move, isn't there?

More Misc Thoughts

Come hell or high water, I'm going to finish this post tonight. It's a little bitsy because every day this last fortnight, I wrote/added, revised, and deleted, (some days whole other posts,) as my thoughts change from day to day. In part it reflects trying to anchor myself in a big changeable world, as I get back to it. But also because I can't concentrate and stay with one thought; some thoughts seem so urgent and important I must record, until the next day when it appears so trivial.

* * * * *

Passage of time has been inconsistent. On the one hand Monday, March 23, (the day Ben started working at home, which by afternoon turned into Day 1 of Alert Level 2 in a lead up to our full  lockdown,) feels just a wee while ago. In fact it's been two months, or nine weeks minus two days. The measure informing me the true length of time is we were in late summer then, and are definitely in (early) winter now.

In Level 4/full lockdown, we developped a nice rhythm; we got up as per usual, had breakfast; Ben had a shower and dressed as per usual, and was "at" work early, just after 9. We ate lunch late, during/after which we watched the daily 1PM update together, then Ben went back to work until sometime between 6.30 and 7. On the evenings, we watched/read as much news as possible, then went to bed at the usual time.

When we entered Level 2, much around us, but not this house, went back to normal, our schedule become more erratic. For one thing, we never know which days the 1PM updates are held and we lost anchor. Though Ben still goes to work at a more or less regular time, he might have breakfast before work, or mid-morning, or not at all; and I might nibble all morning standing up while cleaning the kitchen instead of a breakfast. Dinner and telly in the evening are our only constant now, and we went back to no news on the telly.

Huge chunks of my day feel interminable. It doesn't help I'm not doing anything specific some days. I could have done anything during long stretches of balmy afternoons, but I either couldn't concentrate or decide. Instead, whole afternoons were spent waiting for dinner/telly/evening.

And you know what? This is exactly what my kind of mild/moderate depression is like. Everything is on hold, I can't decide, so I try to save ideas/thoughts/things all around me for a later date. Life is interminable wait after wait, with the end either just around the corner or nowhere in sight. I'm not kidding. The living room is chock full of unfinished projects, and the mess frustrates me.

I found myself using some of my depression-busting techniques to liven things up, often by way of slow cooking. Must-Do list is good, too: the masks at first, dyeing old clothes either before or after that, and now the weeding. Now I'm stuck with weeding and cleaning the house because they are both massive.

Other days, I sit in one place gazing at the screen, thinking I should do something, at the very least read a book or gaze at pictures, waiting, living in the in-between space, waiting for something to kick start my brain. It can also be the mind being willing but the body not, as if they now live separate lives, neither having anything to do with me.

I'm not depressed. But Level 2 life looks so much like it. I got quite frustrated with the media's mollycoddling with abundance of "it's normal to be depressed during lockdown" articles, because I saw them as catering to only extroverts. But once again, there may be more to them than I too quickly judge.

* * * * *

Shortly before Italy's lockdown, while I desperately hoped we too would lock down soon, I was already there in my mind. During Level 4 and 3, I enthused about being part of this "worldwide" effort. But I was also taken aback by some regions having looser rules, and hoped and prayed my friends would quit doing whatever was outside of our rules.

I was fully engaged with our harsher lockdown. I went to a convent school for ten years, so I can live with strict rules, even if some don't make sense, for a reasonably length. For once, the whole country lived the way I like to live: nobody crashed into my space; the world slowed down, stopped consuming conspicuously, wasted less, and made stuff. Most of all, thoughts turned inward.

You can well imagine I entered Level 2 kicking and screaming. I missed the stricter times terribly. Until I got sick of moaning. And now that we're here, I sometimes catch myself surprised to find some aren't yet.

* * * * *

In Level 2, just because everybody else seems back to normal, I'm not practicing and starting to forget all sorts of preventive measures we learned, and unless there are incoming objects, life inside our house is back to pre-Plague era. I try to remember to wash my hands the correct way at least once a day, but don't disinfect anything except after coming home from the supermarket. I wash our delivered milk bottles with cold water, but no longer rest the egg cartons, nor wash eggs. (Yes, I actually washed raw eggs!) I'm not sure what else we've forgotten.

Even though Ben and I still stay home except for food shopping and PO Box checking, the world around us is starting to behave as if the Plague is over. We're told the numbers are really good, so at this rate next Thursday we'll move on to Alert Level 1, of which we know very little.

* * * * *    

I probably said this before: part of me subconsciously waited for  Ben's lockdown, by which I mean a holiday, until a couple of days ago. A lot of folks, blokes, and gals, got a lot of projects done, and while Ben had five days off at Easter, (standard for folks working in education here,) he cancelled his planned annual leave before that, and his life, our lives, have been as usual. All projects were on me, or saved for the weekends. And I feel like I missed out on a good lockdown because "we" did not get anything big finished. 

* * * * *

Petrol/gasoline price was the lowest in forever, as you all probably noticed, just when the only place we were allowed to go were supermarkets and pharmacies, and not too often if we could help it. Oh, the irony! Meanwhile food price is already going up, again, here.

* * * * *

There are a lot of industries and businesses complaining loudly about the lockdown and demanding government aid, for e.g. our travel and tourism industries. Of course it's suffering now, and I have sympathies for individuals who lost their jobs, but in the long run, these industries in New Zealand? Give me a break! They might have to do things differently, smarter, more in accordance with the post-Plague sensibilities, but these are not disappearing. 

Ditto with the arts. Again, in the immediate future, especially for performance artists, things are/may get dire. Some galleries may close. But can you imagine the stories, poems, films, paintings, sculptures, etc., etc., etc., coming out of an experience like a Plague? Have you got something cooking?

So... stop bitching. Switch your thinking. It could be a most exciting time.

Days of a Plague Day 33+16+1, May 14 - Day 33+16+7, May 20

Day 33+16+1, May 14. Level 2, Day 1. What a grumpy day. The airport was noisy last night and I couldn't sleep. It and the road was noisy again in the early morning and it woke me up. The worst was the gray smoke coming out the chimney at the tip (?) crawling sideways, leaving an ugly gray stripe in the sky. And the endless beep-beep of vehicles reversing or forklifts assaulting the air; that could even be a Japanese "innovation."

The weather is nice but I'm too tired goo back to work on the slope. There is something wrong with my left foot. I have unfinished projects around the house. I'm making snail's pace progress, but this is priority because we're walking around the stuff on the floor.

Bitch, bitch, bitch... I miss the slower, more quiet, introspective life of the lockdown. Tonight, the air was already murky at sunset.

But Ben picked up my Versability manual at the PO. Most pages are filled with old English poems, but I love the illustrations. Also found another Shakespeare podcast. So I'm feeling appeased at the end of the day.

Day 33+16+2, May 15. Rocket flower at dusk. In the morning there was a haze at middle height (??) of the sky. I don't know if there were other reasons (as well) but I never thought of Nelson having industrial air pollution until this week. (It did/does due to wood burning heaters.) By world standard it might have been nothing, but it was shocking. I felt emotionally choked.

I got sick of complaining about the world, so I went outside. Neighbour had professional tree cutters, and their machines were raucous. But I pulled out sturdy weeds and cut robust branches for half a day. I'm rightly exhausted. I am so old.

Day 33+16+3, May 16. (Text and pic on Day 33+16+4.) Although we've been allowed takeaways for two and a half weeks and conditional dining in for a couple of days, we've stuck to our own cooking. There have been plenty of time to cook, and if I may say so myself, my cooking has improved a little, in the curry-like-Ben's department in particular. On the other hand, however, I have a very small repertoire, and I've been itching to taste someone else's flavours, (including our favorite Indian takeaway.) So instead of making it chicken curry, I made a veg curry, and Ben char-grilled chicken legs. And both were very tasty.

I woke up with every muscle in my body aching this morning, mildly surprising because I didn't weed the slope yesterday. I had hoped to keep working and finish that particular patch today, but let's just say the curry took up most of my day, so I "couldn't". Yeah, that's the story I'll tell.

Another wintery evening, with the fire roaring. We are now out of ginger wine.

 

Day 33+16+4, May 17. After yet another slow start to the day, cleaning the kitchen and watching The Globe's The Two Noble Kinsmen for the third time, (I can't get enough of it,) I Checked the other echinacea flower for seeds. Few more weeks, she said.

I also thanked my many lovely tall cornflowers for lasting as long as they have and still going strong. I tried to psych myself up to continue labouring on the slope, but I needed Ben to do the hard lifting for today's portion. He concurred.

We got everything we intended to finished, but of course there is always more one can do, and we did. A portion will have to be redone at a later date, but another day, or day and a half and we will finish the northern section of the north western quadrant. And that day, or day and a half's work, I can do it by myself.

We had a wee tour of Kathryn's rockery, so I took this pic to see if she'd like some. Or perhaps two other succulents she can break off and propagate. I know nothing about succulents except they tend not to die and tend to take care of themselves. All I do is collect fallen bits and stick them in new soil. I don't know why I don't have these all over the place.

Day 33+16+5, May 18. (Text and pic on Day 33+16+6.) Indecision has been a problem for the last couple of decades. The worst is ordering food in restaurants, (as a consequence someone else's meal looks so much tastier,) but it also gets in the way of, oh, deciding what to do after a day's housework is finished and I have a better part of the rest of the day wide open. Yesterday it was between making a gold warp or weeding the slope some more. At the back of my mind was an increased stiffness in my joints.

My left fifth finger has always been a bit crooked, as, most weirdly, the nail got shorter and shorter over the years. (Most probably unrelated, though.) Not so on my right hand, and it's only recently I noticed it's bent much worse than the left. And that's they one that needed Voltaren a few days ago.

There is no arthritis in the family I know of. Dad's gout on his left foot is the closest I can think of, although Mom's hands were getting stiff by the time of her exhibition in 2016.

Ergo my dilemma. If I'm going down the arthritis path, I'd rather weave than weed in the time I've got left. But being so close to finishing the northern part of the Northwest quadrant. In the end, OCD prevailed, helped by Dad's use-it-or-loose-it creed.

There's probably a couple of days' work left there. A 12-inch-wide warp, on the other hand would take, oh, half to three-quarters of a day?

Day 33+16+6, May 19. (Text and pic on Day 33+16+7.) Woke up thinking I'll wash the bedding, clean the kitchen, then go out early to finish weeding that slope.

Got up, had coffee and breakfast. Fed sparrows. Took a few breaks washing dishes. Not many. Mind wide open with nothing in it.

Don't know what I did until 1PM, but was standing in front of the sink when the update came on. Not cooking because we had enough leftovers.

Sighed and had a nap.

Thought of making the gold warp. Fought off Jesus people phoning, twice; wrote down phone number. Sighed.

Lit the fire. Ate leftovers. Went to bed.

Day 33+16+7, May 20. Today marked the halfway point of scheduled Level 2. If all goes to plan, in a week we will go down to Level 1, though we don't know what that means. Life all around me has more or less gone back to normal, except supermarket shopping still must be conducted under the old scheme and Ben's still home.

In spite of myself, part of me is rapidly readjusting to the old normal: I have all the old anxieties, old complaints, and the old insomnia. (During Level 4, I woke up many times at night, but could easily go back to sleep.) One of the old normal is constantly thinking something relating to weaving, consciously or not.

Today I decided first thing in the morning I was going to make the gold warp with 2/20 mercerized cotton; I like the sett of the sample I kept, but I could not find what sett I used. Way back in 2006 when I started using this size, I started with 36EPI, sometimes 39; lately with much longer skips I've been weaving at 42EPI. The drafts I am considering have long skips amidst plain weave, so I'll start with 36, but if it's too loose, I can resley. Weaving with these gold warps has always been delightful. I'm looking forward to going back to it.