We're finally having a little bit of Spring around here. It brings us flowers
(including true-to-life teenage flowers that like to take selfies:)
and along with the usual renewal, this year Spring has brought us a notable replacement. Our faithful old van retired, to be replaced by this marvel of Japanese engineering:
It is sleek and sound and filled with modern gadgets (back up camera? check! bluetooth integration with everyone's phones/music? check! voice command calling? Holy smokes-- I can do that too!) and a host of clever little storage places and we already love it. But you can't just dump a van that's been part of your life longer than half of your children without feeling the pain of separation, and I did not take the parting of the ways well. A friend of mine captured the experience perfectly: it was like handing your dog over to the shelter and the sense of responsibilities abandoned was icky indeed. I have mostly stopped worrying that the car was lonely, scared, and confused over its fate, but every once in a while I'm zapped by a pang of regret and I wish there were a way to have a decent retirement party for our less animate companions and know that everyone was going happily on to the next phase. Even if that phase is the scrap yard.
Sunday, April 19, 2015
I am trying my best to make good use of my rigid heddle loom, but this merciless wad of yellow yarn refuses to reveal its free end.
I begin to suspect that this particular skein of yarn was packaged by M.C. Escher and that I will never, ever find its beginning.
I have tried to resolve the problem through liberal application of bad words and phrases, but in the interest of setting a good example (or at least not setting a terrible one) for my children, I had to modify my language and, in so doing, I think I diluted it so much as to render it powerless.
At the peak of my frustration, I vented my feelings by dashing the miserable child of a female dog to the floor with all my strength. It sailed lightly through the air and landed at my feet, making no sound whatsoever.
Yarn is a most unsatisfying adversary.
All is not lost, however. I own scissors and will momentarily return to the field of battle with them. Thunk, they will go, onto the table, blades open and menacing. One of us will be going to pieces.
Once more into the fray!!!