Grammar

Sorry for all the punctuation/grammar/spelling mistakes in all away posts. Typing on a cell phone keyboard sucks. I'll leave it at that.

What's Normal Anymore

Normally I would be calling home so that I could talk to all of my dear ones. But though I talk to the girls each night... though I find out what's happening at home somehow it seems strange to not talk to the person I thought of as my best friend. Once upon a time he would have cared how my day was going... He would have wanted to hear about the testing that I'm slowly getting through... now there is just an emptiness where he used to be. So I tell you how it went instead. - - It was tough. A long day with incompleted work. I never passed in any of my skeins. They did not get finished in time. This is not as bad as it sounds. I love the instructor... She's awesome and so calm. She put our minds at ease right away. That is not to say that she is not tough. You only have to look at the questions she gave us to see that. But I think she will be fair in her marking. My first two questions were novelty yarns.. One with color and one with texture. For my color yarn I chose to make a cabled yarn from silk hankies. Love that and I've done it many times. I wet finished it but by the end of the day it still wasn't dry enough to complete the calculations for Bradford count. I will finish that today and pass it in. The second yarn with texture was a Bucle yarn which took forever and since a large part of it was mohair it too was still too wet at the end of the day to pass in. I have discovered that my instructor has never gotten more than two ply yarns for those questions. I never do anything by halves. A four ply yarn and a three ply yarn ate up my time like you wouldn't believe. I found that suddenly it was 3 p.m. And I still had two skeins left to spin and only an hour left. I panicked! I started work right away on the 5 yd skein on the low whorl spindle. It is about half finished. I will finish that today. I am going in at 8 a.m. This morning to see if I can catch up, but I was so tired last night I didn't even want to go to the fashion show. Last evening, which has always been an highlight of Fibre Week. - - So what's ahead? There will be more skeins added today to the roster and I am hoping that today will go better. I hope so. I'll be glad when I'm finished. I more thing done on my way to certification. The social activities for the most part are over... at least the formal ones are. I think there is a barbecue/party on Wednesday night, but other than that it is all work from here on in. Through it all I feel like I'm out of step with it all. How many people go around with a smile on their face when the whole time they feel like it is painted on. I meet other people as I walk around campus and wonder. Perhaps happiness is all just one big sham. - - on that note I will take my caustic and vinigary remarks away from this forum! Perhaps my new nickname should be vinigar.

And So It Begins

Level 6. A week of testing. I do have to say I'm nervous. Class will begin with a written requirement on the board and my classmates and I will be expected to execute that requirement. There are twenty to do over four days with a day of Indigo vat dyeing. Friday it will be over. Then I will have a year to complete my In Depth Study. I am hoping to be approved of the topic of Traditional Hooked Rugs: A Study of the Textiles Specifically Used And How To Spin For The Associated Fabrics. So I would be studying jute for burlap, flax for linen backing, and English long wools that were used in the weaving of worsted fabrics of the 18th century and the shorter down wools used in woollen mills for the fabrics used to produce hooked rugs currently. Jute, flax, Lincoln wool, Border Liecester wool, and Shetland wool, would be some of the fibers I would be studying with an eye to weaving the fabrics associated with rug hooking. - - I cannot allow myself to be distracted. One foot forward each day it will get easier so I am told. I sure hope so because it is all so very raw at the moment. Wish me luck... or say a prayer. I will need all the help I can get.

New Things To Think About

Today I begin classes. My first class is called Diametre By Design and is taught by Michele Boyd. I am so glad I decided to sign up for a class other than the next level in the MSprogram. All week there are classes in a variety of topics related to the fibre arts. Everything from wool judging to alpaca shearing to the Master Weaver program go on during Fibre Week. Fleeces abound as they are displayed and sold and fibre of every sort drift through the air. The vendors do good business as spinners, weavers, felters, and dyers purchase supplies for the upcoming year. Last night was the kick off social at which time the big donators to Fibre Week are given a nod, and then the newest Master Spinners and Weavers receive their certificates. And then finally a we sit for a keynote address. Last night we had a New Zealander speak about selling her creations in felt. She had on a stunning felted jacket that must have taken hours. I came home almost overwhelmed. Meanwhile I had run into my level 5 instructor and she had returned my level 5 books. I was pleased to look through the comments and find that the remarks were for the most part superficial. While all the Fibre Week events are pleasantly rolling along... there are bittersweet moments of my knowing that it will be a while again, if ever, when I will be able to participate in the the joys that are Fibre Week. I am staying in touch with the Daughters through it all and my mom and dad too. My parents will celebrate their 54th anniversary today. It eats at me that I will never celebrate such an occasion in my life. But then what's the point of dwelling on such things... marriage is a partnership and if it can't be one then it is not healthy. There is no point in one person being the engine and the other being the caboose. It just won't work. One no more wants to be dragged through life and neither does one want to do the dragging. Perhaps God will open new doors for me.. Perhaps God will provide me with a better life. I can only hope so because the alternative is too depressing to entertain.

Sour Milk

Yesterday was a strange day. I spent it alone and as a result I did a great deal of thinking. Thinking is something I try to avoid these days because usually thinking leads to crying... is synonymous with crying. No one wants to be around a sniveling crying basket case. The strange thing is that physically I wasn't alone. We went on our field trip to Carstairs and Shuttleworks and I sat in the back seat of the car. The other two that I was with we're gabbing away in the front seat while I stared out the window in the back. It was not easy to hear what was going on in the front since I needed the window cracked. So in the end I knew that even though I had two chatting and gabbing women in a vehicle with me the end result the 'aloneness' settled around me like a cloak in very short order. - as for our field trip... it was entertaining and very interesting to go and see a working woollen mill. Shuttleworks was a clean, modern store with every possible thing to do with spinning and weaving available for sale. But the drive was long and I spent much of my time very much in deep private thought. It may have been good for cathartic reasons but not really a good time or place to take off the blinders and see my situation clearly for what it is. - I came home in no fit state to be around others. - The result of my catharsis is this: that he is well and truly lost to me. That he has turned his back on me. That while debased about that I was on a huge grieving trip. I could be no more grief stricken if he had died. Indeed, he is well and truly dead to me. My Teapot is gone. No more. The end. Finished. But not only was I grieving for him. I was grieving for me too. - When I met and married him I was a young woman still with girlish ideals of love and romance. The last twenty years with him have stripped that all away and left me jaded about fairy tale love. There is no such thing. Up until two weeks ago, I thought I had been one of the lucky ones and found it. But what is hard and fast is that it was all an illusion. A magician's trick of the eye. Suddenly, I was seeing me as 'past her spoil date' and that as much as anything would make me cry. Even fine wine eventually turns to vinegar. That is what he has turned me into. I am vinigar and that is about as appealing as... well, it is corrosive really. So you see there really is something to cry over. Not only am I crying over spilt milk, I'm crying because the milk is sour - So now the question is can I practice a miracle. Can I turn vinigar into a fine old whiskey? Because until I'm no longer vinigar I'm not much good to anyone.

Here It Is Morning Again

I have been lying awake for a while now. Slowly I hear my fellow apartment mates waking and beginning a new day. Soon I will get up too and join them. The days are beginning to pass in a strange vortex of events, visits, and shopping. Olds is beginning to work its magic on me. This year it is a bittersweet jumble of emotions. Everything I do here makes me wonder when and if it will happen again. Yesterday was a blur of shopping and meeting the vendors of the stores here who we have gotten to know over the last 6 years. I am happy to say that a possible opportunity presented itself to me in the first store we visited. But I will talk more of that later. The day was full of ideas from what we saw in each store. I didn't buy a lot since I will only have to pack it later. Mostly I bought small thing that can fit in a tote. We returned to the apartment in time to watch the flood of Fibre Week enthusiasts and fellow students arriving. Dinner was prepared and we ate our food with abundant conversation. A visit from one of my previous instructors meant lively discussions about all things Arts, and much with the MSProgram here at Olds. It is good for me to be so caught in this whirlwind called Olds because my mind is occupied with good and not with the evil that has crept into my life at home. I did talk to the Daughters and they are consumed with exams some good and some troublesome. Meanwhile he is trying to sell the house with a couple of showings but no takers. Hopefully that will change. Today is a field trip to a woolen mill called Carstairs and to one of the biggest spinning and weaving suppliers in Western Canada. It will be hard to not drool and want to spend. I'm feeling a little better today... that is, if I don't think too much.

We'll Rise Again

In the faces of our children. We'll rise again.... You know a song works for you when you just can't get the words out of your mind. We made it to Olds last evening and it was good to check in and meet with the other ladies with whom I share this apartment. Somehow it felt right to be here. It goes without saying that I miss the Daughters dreadfully... And wee Narmin. ( Evidently Narmin misses me too according to. The text messages from the girls.) The drive to Olds went well. I was anxious at how I would feel. I will miss this community of women who gather at this jewel on the prairie. I would love to come back but I doubt it will be possible. Graduation will take place without me being here. There is something good about this familiar space without him in it. Poignant that I didn't call him when I got here though. Poignant that I didn't kiss him when I left. It's all so weird. Still Olds is an oasis for me. Today we will grocery shop and do all the old haunts. Tomorrow we have a field trip. Then a day of registering and checking out vendors and connecting with old friends. Then the next day we get serious. Classes begin in earnest. Through it all my mantra will be: Chin up, one day at a time, one foot in front of the other.