It came to my attention recently that there have been many blog-worthy events in my life of late. And perhaps there are, but as is often the case when the truly, disgusting, ridiculous or dramatic enters your my, it leaves me tired/jaded/sick of the whole damn business. So, I'll encapsulate the current saga in my house with this innocent haiku instead. Ahem!
Urination on
the coffee table clogs my
my inbox with outrage
There, done. Let's instead talk about being able to go to the Textile Museum at 1pm on a Thurs. and reap the not inconsiderable benefits of unemployment. Today I actually had the presence of mind to enjoy the sweetness of cold hands, warm ears and the reaches of the urban unknown. I also reacquainted myself with the delicate intricacies of warp, weft, tweed, ikat, mordants, twinging, carding, spinning and backstrap looms. On fabrics like these, you can measure time in inches and image that a coating of skin from calloused fingers, an invisible embroidery, is still caught in the threads.
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