Moving Day

Well, not really moving. More like rearranging. You see, I haven't been idle although I haven't posted in awhile. No, I've just been rearranging the furniture, so to speak. When Making is Praying is now a Category of my new website, Weaver Womyn's Web. I plan on posting specifically to the topic of making and praying on Sundays. Also, a new feature - Textile Thursdays that will talk about textiles, their techniques and uses. And my blog, renamed Weave, Knit, Bead, is now available here. Go check them out. I think you'll enjoy the new arrangement.

Already two weeks into 2009

I can't believe that it's almost two weeks into 2009 and I haven't even posted. I have the feeling that this year is going to be one of those times that just sweeps by. I seldom make resolutions, but I do take time to be still and notice if any themes seem to be wanting to come forward. This year I have heard "Finishing Up," and "Working Studio Artist." I can go with those.

So, in the continued interest of "Finishing Up," here are some projects I've completed in the first two weeks of '09. All of these are from my stash, or my mom's stash that I inherited. First, the socks from the Yarnarian's KAL. I thoroughly enjoyed working on these, in spite of trips to the pond several times. They were so worth the effort:

Then there's the scarves I'm making for gifts. First one is Black Wool-Ease from my mom's stash, in a simple K3, P3. Next is a diagonal pattern in shiny rayon yarns from my Mom's stash. I googled the yarns, both Bernat,and neither are made anymore. And last, a WIP, with one down and the other on the way, my Julia-Inspired socks. (You hang in there, Alison. I'm praying for you with every stitch.)

So far, I like the way 2009 is shaping up.

Finishing up

Just as 2008 is finishing up, I'm finishing up some projects that have been left on their own for far too long. Number one is the Julia Shawl that I actually finished knitting several weeks ago, but couldn't seem to get around to weaving in the ends and blocking it. So, today is the day. It's knit with a yarn called Chispa, cotton with dashes of acrylic, so I'm not sure that it even needs to be blocked, but I felt like it needed some sort of something (how's that for a technical approach to finishing?). So, I washed it with Eucalan, figuring that after being hauled around on two trips and sat on by SarahCat many, many times, it probably could use a light wash. Then I laid it out on two cardboard cutting boards used for cutting out fabric, covered them with a waterproof tablecloth and put them on my outdoor worktables. I planned on pinning it out, but it didn't really seem to need it. Here's how it looks so far. I am so excited and so pleased with this.

Tomorrow, hopefully, I'll have pictures of me wearing it.

Normal

Seen on a refrigerator magnet in the gift shop of our hotel:

"Normal" is a cycle on a washing machine.

Kind of says it all, I think.

A Turquoise Christmas

As soon as my cold waned, Doug and I began planning where we would go for Christmas. The weather had been erratic for So Cal, so choices were somewhat narrowed, but with good planning, we still had a wide range of options. We chose Las Vegas, left home a day early to avoid being blocked by possible closed passes due to an upcoming storm and made it easily into Nevada, admiring the snowy landscape created by the prior storm along the way.

So, two days ago found me at the front desk of the Tropicana Hotel on The Strip in Vegas. The clerk, Sand, was very friendly. We chatted while she did the necessary paperwork, and she gave us an upgrade on our room since Christmas isn’t exactly a prime tourist time in Vegas. She handed me our keys, explained the route to our room, which required both sides of an 81/2” by 11” sheet of paper. I fetched Doug, complete with suitcase, knitting bag, camera and laptop and off we went. I led the way, map in hand, past the craps tables, through a maze of clanging slot machines, up an escalator, across a bridge spanning the tropical-themed pool area, and around the corner to the elevator area painted bright strawberry yogurt pink and emblazoned with parrots sitting amongst big green leaves on a vine curling across the elevator doors. Up we went. Up all the way to the 18^th floor, where we exited, turned right and finally entered our room. We were greeted by a large window looking out at The Strip, bamboo furniture and bamboo framed mirrors on the walls behind and to the side of the bed and on the ceiling overhead. (Hey, it’s Vegas.)

I was ooohing and aaahing at the view when the phone rang.

“Hello.”

“Linda? This is Sand from the front desk. Are you missing a purse?”

I knew instantly, without even checking.

“A small blue Guatemalan bag?”

“Yes. What are some contents in it that could identify it?”

“A chunk of turquoise and some loose change.”

“Yes, that’s it. I have it right here. Someone picked it up and brought it to the desk and I just knew that it was yours. I’ll send it over to Security. You can pick it up there.”

I thanked her again and she repeated how she had just known, somehow, that it was mine.

Back to the pink elevator, across the bridge over the pool, down the escalator, and right there at the bottom, as Sand had explained, was the Security booth. I explained who I was and the situation. The Security agent asked for ID. I gave him my Driver’s License and he peered at it. After a few moments, he explained that he didn’t doubt my ID, but that he had forgotten his glasses that day and it took a bit for him to read it. We both laughed about the vagaries of age, he handed me my little purse, wrapped securely in an envelope and officially labeled with my name and off I went, back through the maze that led to our room.

I find this to be an amazing story. An anonymous stranger found my little purse, turned it into the desk where the clerk who had checked me in just “knew” that it was mine and contacted me immediately. It’s not that the little purse is so valuable – the change in it is less than a dollar, and while the chunk of turquoise has some monetary value, its value to me is symbolic and sentimental. No, this is a Christmas story.

The Christmas story tells us that we are touched by something far greater than ourselves. When we open to and accept that, something is birthed that blesses and redeems our lives. By listening and looking closely, and by believing, we can be led to this Presence and honor it with our gifts, the gifts that in Truth, are gifts from that Presence. I call this Presence “God.” Others may call it Spirit, Life, Universal Power, Goddess, or maybe not have a name for it, just know that there is something more than us as individuals. And in that “something more,” we are blessed and share our gifts of Love and Beauty and Joy in our connectedness. Today I say thank you to God for the sharing of the Turquoise with people I didn’t think I knew. Thank you, God, for this shared moment. Thank you, God, for the connection of the One. Thank you, God, for Christmas

Merry Christmas to All of You, however and wherever you are sharing this day!

Daughter of the Sun

It's the perfect day to read, and, of course, knit. It's overcast, threatening rain, the wind is blustering and since I have a cold, I am sticking to a regimen of plenty of fluids (hot herb tea) and rest. While rest has meant a few naps, I also had the perfect book.

A few weeks ago at church, I shared my love of northern New Mexico and Arizona, their landscapes and juxtaposition of peoples. Our book store manager came up to me after the service, telling me that she would bring me a book that I might like. Thank you, Sallie! Because Daughter of the Sun by Barbara Wood, is a book that I might not pick out for myself, since I tend more toward metaphysical, history, psychology and away from novels. But this one has me rethinking my ways.

Daughter of the Sun is set in the place known today as Chaco Canyon. When Barbara Wood, the author, visited there, she was taken not only by the landscape, but also by the mystery and the stories. Chaco Canyon is known as a site of Abandonment, one of several sites in the southwest that were mysteriously abandoned by Puebloan people. The definitive answer as to why a seemingly thriving culture would suddenly leave has not been found, although theories abound. Wood decided that she needed to come up with an answer of her own, and Daughter of the Sun was born.

Wood has done her research, and her use of the history and geography of the place is a firm structure within which the plot unfolds. Daughter of the Sun is a love story, the traditional attraction of two people, Hoshi'tiwa, a member of the Tortoise clan and Jakal, a Toltec who worships Quetzalcoatl, who are separated by ethnicity, caste and responsibility. Now, we all know where that leads to in love stories, but credit Wood's development of these two characters, I kept rooting for their love to triumph all the way through. Daughter of the Sun is also a story of everyday people making their way in difficult times, people like Yellow Feather, stolen from her clan and using her body and wits as a way to survive. It's a story of irresponsible, ego-ridden leadership and petty bureaucrats only interested in themselves who live through the selling of political favors (hmmm, this is sounding way too familiar.) It's a story of belief in something greater
than themselves,whether kachinas, Quetzalcoatl or family and, an appearance of a new, for these people, idea of Oneness. But mostly, it is a story of change that is not without pain but does also offer hope.

Given my own predilection towards the philosophy that we are all connected and One, and my passion for making as praying, I was especially taken by the heroine's role as a potter in the unveiling of this Truth. It is through her dedication to and belief in the practice of making sacred rain jars, that she finds direction, meaning and purpose.

Daughter of the Sun is entertaining and an enjoyable read. It fits all of my needs for metaphysics and history, yet offers a rich story too. The history that it rests in is an added bonus that adds to its richness. It's a perfect read for an indoor sort of day.

One morning while walking . . .

Yuck. Hack. Cough. Sneeze. My body has decided to do the let's-have-a-cold-thing. So, while looking around for more pleasant things to think about, I came upon these photos that I took on our latest trip to Taos. I was out walking, and this is some of what I found:

Horsepower


When East meets West

Kit Carson
Died May 1868
Aged 59 years

Lights


Isn't Life amazing?