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I am not sure that I understand how I became so fortunate to be able to attend this camp. It was held in western Washington in a quiet wooded spot so beautiful I was moved to tears just looking outside.

And then there was the weaving part.

The food was fabulous and healthy. No cleaning to speak of, although I did leave my hair unwashed a day or two. No shopping. No driving. Just weaving. Talking about weaving with other weavers. Preparing for weaving. Serious mulling about weaving. You get the idea.

The result is that the noise in your head clears (a little) The rhythm of weaving slowly emerges. The projects grow along with ideas for projects.

I’m not going to sell you the idea that weaving is like a metaphor for life. In this case it was life. I forget how easy it can be to disassociate yourself from the path that brings peace of mind because we are so locked into the path of work and maintenance of the things we own. It happens to me and mine more than we want.

It’s a precious and personal thing and I won’t bore you with the intimate details. I hope when you most need it you find a place to make something beloved to you a metaphor for life and you dive in head first and don’t need to come up for air. And then just stay there and soak it in till it oozes out of your pores.

Happy hunting.


Something wonderful is coming up this week. I’m headed to Weaving Camp in Washington state.

It’s a sleep over camp with Judith as the teacher and I’m nervous about my lack of knowledge and abilities. I’m a quick study, but still have fear about getting behind.

This, of course, gives me the perfect opportunity to work on my equanimity skills. Breath in breath out. Wax on wax off. It will really truly be all right.

Now for the adventure of a lifetime. And the grand re-launching of a crafts person. Well, yes. That’s me. A craft as defined by Craft in America on PBS. Something that is functional, useful, beautiful and made by a human.

I’ll let you know how it turns out.

Last month I completed the Hippie Chick half marathon in Hillsboro. See my happy finish picture. This is the first one I trained for on my own over successive weekends. It was very good to be done.

I wish I had more free time to spend but right now I’m working on other non exercise items. It was a beautiful day spent with friends.


The shoe has dropped. My parents have changed places with my children and the best part is, they are slowly going broke. I didn’t realize until a recent series of phone calls, just how strained the situation is. It won’t happen tomorrow, or next month. What is likely to happen is that my parents will outlive their money.

I’m not upset about this from an inheritance or lack of inheritance perspective. I don’t want them to suffer and truthfully I don’t have the sort of relationship with my parents that promotes the eventuality that they will live with me. That, for better or worse is the road ahead for my brother and his wife. Me, I just get to watch the train wreck in slow motion and try to maintain my equanimity.

I continue to pursue fiber arts with every spare moment and bit of passion I can find The knitting is super frustrating right now. I can’t seem to figure out what to do with the needles without undoing and redoing several times. And it’s still not right, really. OR, maybe it is right and I don’t want to give myself that much credit. Note to self. Must investigate this thought more closely…

The weaving and spinning, that’s a whole ‘nother level of passion and crazy. For me it seems a good crazy right now. I sit and start thinking about what I need to talk to my parents about on the road ahead. The rythmn of weaving and spinning let’s me percolate a little till some peace of mind bubbles up. We will find a way. We will figure this out. It will all be OK in the end.