I do no usually write about local politics--or politics in general-on this blog. This is a blog about fibre and fibre arts. I am not a political junkie, one of those people who watches council meetings every two weeks. What I am is a citizen who is engaged in the day-to-day life of my community. And I think it is time for me to say something that has been on my mind for a while.
But first, some context into the title of this post. There is a classic episode of The Simpsons in which a conman sells a monorail system to the people of Springfield that turns out to be somewhat less than what it seemed. If you haven't seen it before, or if you really want an earworm, watch Lyle Lanley work his magic:
I share this clip with you because it came up on my Twitter feed the other night as members of the community were watching the Municipal Council meeting, where our council voted to pay $100,000 to something called Nexus North for a membership (local news link). What, exactly, this membership entitles the Regional Municipality of Wood Buffalo and Fort McMurray to, or what benefits the community will see, is yet to be determined. The presentation by the representatives of this "initiative" was filled with inspirational double-speak and jingoisms. There will be synergies and social growth and collaborations a-plenty. The names of major corporations were casually tossed about. But what was never once mentioned was an actual action, plan, or tangible outcome.
(You can read more buzzwords and catch-phrases here on council member Russell Thomas's blog. This appears to be the most concrete information about Nexus North that appears anywhere on the internet. In an entertaining side note, a Twitter search for @NexusNorth turns up one result, an apparently defunct, Spanish-language porn site. A Google search of the phrase turns up even less. Surely, such an important initiative should have a web-presence here and now in the Information Age?)
Our mayor cannot tell us what this shadowy group does, or will do for our city. Councillors asked why, if the function of this group is too complex and arcane for the average voter to understand, money should be directed there. The local Twitterati had a field day, starting with the aforementioned monorail, and continuing with references to Ponzi schemes and Nigerian princes. But, in my mind, Nexus North is not the only problem that the current council has. It is merely a symptom.
Here is what I think is wrong with our current mayor and council: They have forgotten where they live.
There has been an enormous effort expended by the current city government and administration to make Fort McMurray a "world-class city". Their lives seem to be consumed by the fact that a couple of opinion writers for The National Post and The Globe and Mail have commented that Fort McMurray is dirty, sleazy, or somehow filled with venal, money-grabbing carpetbaggers profiting from the oil boom. The solution, according to the current council, is to remake Fort McMurray in Toronto's image. According to them, we need to scrap long-standing institutions and geography to create a new, vibrant city centre. We need to tear down businesses and hotels and homes to build epic architecture that reflects our hip, new image. We need art galleries, and bistros, and multiple cultural and entertainment venues.
Now, I'm not saying that there is anything wrong with art galleries and bistros. What I AM saying is that those already exist. Sure, they are in old industrial buildings, or housed inside other existing institutions such as The Suncor Leisure Centre at Mac Island. But we have them. And they are under-utilized. Art galleries and frozen yogurt is awesome, but affordable housing, an adequate transportation system, and decent snow clearing is what makes a city a community people want to live in.
The current council has hired outside consultants, design firms, and planning initiatives to tell the people of Fort McMurray what the future of their city will be. These plans are then presented as a fait accompli, without community consultation. It seems to me, as an ordinary citizen of this city, that the community I have lived in for 31 years is simply being scrapped for a shiny new model that will impress Toronto journalists. They appear to be saying that the outsiders are right: "Fort McMurray is bad and we have to fix it."
I'm all for change, and for grand vision. What I am not for is throwing money at shadows and grasping at tenuous schemes when the basic infrastructure of our city is crumbling. It is mid-July and I have been driving through the same pot-hole on Thickwood Boulevard since April. Traffic is a nightmare of near legendary proportions in the city as poor planning, disorganization and knee-jerk solutions are patched together and discarded. The local aging-in-place centre is bogged down in a bureaucratic quagmire because the city jumped in with a grand vision and no plan.
I am not an urban planner, or a politician. I am just a human being who wants her home to be a place that she can live. The goal of the Municipal Council's grandiose plans is supposedly to attract educated, white-collar workers to our community, and to make our community a place where the fly-in camp population can move their families to settle. They claim they need a more sophisticated city to make that happen, but I can tell you right now, as an educated, white-collar person, that when I look at a community, I do not assess it by the number of art galleries. I look at transportation and health care and sanitation. I look at whether or not the local government ensures that the infrastructure of the community meets the needs of the community. I look at the people of the community, and how much the local government values the community for what it is.
It is not, in my opinion, the job of our local elected officials to rebuild and remake our city. It is their job to nurture the city we have, warts and all, as it grows, organically, into that "world-class city" that it can be.
In that Simpsons episode monorail did not make Springfield a better place to be. It turned out to be a disaster. A monorail is not going to make Fort McMurray a better place to be. Go build your monorail somewhere else.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Tuesday, July 02, 2013
Tiny Ripples
Well, the mayhem of June is over and we are coasting into the hot, sunny days of July. Another Fibre Week is behind me, and I am stopping to catch my breath before I start harassing inviting instructors to join us for next year. It is a time to rest, and to reflect.
This was a milestone year at Fibre Week in many ways. This year is the centennial of the establishment of both the community of Olds and Olds College. It is also the 25th anniversary of the Master Spinner Program. This was the year that we saw the most graduates in one year from the Master Spinner Program, five in all. And this is the year that we said goodbye to the man who has been at the helm of Fibre Week for the past 12 years, Otto Pahl.
There was much talk of legacies and the impact of the actions of innovators, leaders, and decision makers on the lives of those of us who have come to love Fibre Week. New scholarships were introduced, the vision of those who first proposed the Master Spinner Program was lauded, the impact of Otto's interest in this quirky little program and his influence in its growth was celebrated. I was personally thanked for my dedication to the monumental task of creating the Fibre Week instructor roster and workshop schedule again and again. Great, sweeping decisions, long, arduous tasks, and gigantic risks were all publicly praised.
However, what I learned at Fibre Week this year was that the big things don't matter quite as much as the little things. Sure, friends and strangers alike told me stories of how decisions I had made in the dark of winter in my little studio had introduced them to a skill, an instructor, or an idea that had changed their life. And, let me tell you, it is a wondrous feeling to know that you have had that impact on someone. But, what struck me most in this year of celebrating big accomplishments was the number of people who came forward to thank me for the tiny gestures.
We rarely get to see the impact of the little things we do each day, like letting someone in the grocery store line go ahead of us, or smiling at someone on the street, but for some reason, this Fibre Week, I was repeatedly reminded that even our simplest gestures can have great impact.
I have two stories to share that are sharp illustrations of this point.
My journey to Fibre Week this year was epic in the scope and number of minor disasters that occurred en route, starting with a flat tire before I left home delaying my departure by two days, followed by a series of miscommunications and missed appointments. Once I actually got on the road, the miscommunications continued to plague me, and then the brand new tire that I had waited two days for failed. In the pouring rain, in Red Deer. After the lovely gentleman from AMA Roadside Assistance had put my spare on, I limped to the local franchise of the tire company that had installed said new tire, only to be treated with blatant sexism ("Well, honey, I don't know that I can help you...) and even more blatant lies about the cost and availability of a new tire.
After much teeth-grinding and Googling, I discovered another franchise located in Olds, which is where I wanted to be anyway, and we set off on the back roads, driving slowly and carefully on the emergency spare. The Olds franchise was happy to help me, and I worked my way back to the College. Where I was immediately met with chaos and panic. The College was serving as an evacuation centre for the victims of the flooding that was impacting much of Southern Alberta at that time and this was causing much confusion with the housing staff. Keys were being mixed up and double bookings abounded. Instructors were stranded by mudslides and washouts. Mayhem ruled.
There was not much I could do about any of it, though, so I decided to move into my condo. Exhausted, cranky, and overwhelmed, I grabbed an armful of stuff and trudged through the rain to my accommodation. I opened the door and there was a young woman who looked very familiar to me--I presumed I recognized her from the Master Spinner Program--who said something like "Hey, looks like we get to be room mates!"
To which I replied something along the lines of "Huh."
Not really smooth and eloquent, but apropos to the moment.
The evening progressed, I ate and had a glass of wine and chatted with good friends. I went back to my condo, where my room mate, whose name I had now remembered, was already in her room. I went to bed, thinking nothing more than "Thank goodness I am warm and dry and all is well."
The next day was a busy one for me, so after a brief exchange of good mornings and small talk about the weather with my roomie, I went about my rounds, making sure instructors had everything they needed, familiarizing newbies with the campus, and shooting interviews for Fibre Optic. I had a quick supper with my son, then headed back for a quiet evening in the condos.
My room mate was in, and I poured a glass of wine and sat down to chat with her. By now, I had fully remembered who she was--she had taken a class from me last year at Fibre Week. And, unfortunately for her, she had been there when I had my momentous meltdown. And worse yet, she had felt that she may have triggered it by raising the question about the handout that threw me for a loop. And then I had been rude and abrupt with her as I moved in.
A moment of personal doubt, and a few tiny, careless acts, and I had given this poor woman the idea that I disliked her. Which was not the least bit true, but that was how she had seen me. Hopefully, we have cleared the air, but the point that even my unconscious actions could impact someone this way really threw me for a loop.
The other story is a happier one. As I mentioned before, there were five graduates from the Master
Spinner Program this year. I was fortunate enough to have taught 3 of them, so I know I somehow influenced them, for good or for bad. But when I congratulated one of the two I had not taught, she thanked me profusely for helping her so much through the program.
Now, I had chatted with her. I had gone out for dinner with her, or sat with her at lunch. But I had never taught her. Never marked her books. Never helped her with her homework. How had I helped her through the program?
So, she told me the story of her Level One year, when she was overwhelmed and frustrated and scared that she couldn't handle the amount of work ahead of her. She was headed back to her condo, admitting defeat and thinking she didn't fit in. She was passing a bunch of Level Six students who were heading out for dinner, and one of them asked if she wanted to come along. That would have been me.
I don't remember that dinner. I have no idea who was there, or what we talked about, or where we ate. But SHE remembered that dinner as the moment she realized that she was welcome and that she fit in. A simple, careless gesture on my part--"Hey, want to join us for dinner?"--was a turning point in her life.
What both of these encounters reminded me was that it is not the great things that we do, but the little, tiny ones, that change the world. We impact people without even recognizing it with the little things we do every day.
When you drop a great big rock into a pool of water, there is a great big splash and everyone notices. When you drop a tiny pebble into that same pool of water, there are just tiny ripples that are barely noticeable. But those tiny ripples spread outward and go on and on, and we may never know where they end up.
So, while I will continue to drop big rocks and try to make a splash, what I'm really going to do is remember that I can accomplish much more by dropping the tiny pebbles and making those tiny ripples.
This was a milestone year at Fibre Week in many ways. This year is the centennial of the establishment of both the community of Olds and Olds College. It is also the 25th anniversary of the Master Spinner Program. This was the year that we saw the most graduates in one year from the Master Spinner Program, five in all. And this is the year that we said goodbye to the man who has been at the helm of Fibre Week for the past 12 years, Otto Pahl.
There was much talk of legacies and the impact of the actions of innovators, leaders, and decision makers on the lives of those of us who have come to love Fibre Week. New scholarships were introduced, the vision of those who first proposed the Master Spinner Program was lauded, the impact of Otto's interest in this quirky little program and his influence in its growth was celebrated. I was personally thanked for my dedication to the monumental task of creating the Fibre Week instructor roster and workshop schedule again and again. Great, sweeping decisions, long, arduous tasks, and gigantic risks were all publicly praised.
However, what I learned at Fibre Week this year was that the big things don't matter quite as much as the little things. Sure, friends and strangers alike told me stories of how decisions I had made in the dark of winter in my little studio had introduced them to a skill, an instructor, or an idea that had changed their life. And, let me tell you, it is a wondrous feeling to know that you have had that impact on someone. But, what struck me most in this year of celebrating big accomplishments was the number of people who came forward to thank me for the tiny gestures.
We rarely get to see the impact of the little things we do each day, like letting someone in the grocery store line go ahead of us, or smiling at someone on the street, but for some reason, this Fibre Week, I was repeatedly reminded that even our simplest gestures can have great impact.
I have two stories to share that are sharp illustrations of this point.
My journey to Fibre Week this year was epic in the scope and number of minor disasters that occurred en route, starting with a flat tire before I left home delaying my departure by two days, followed by a series of miscommunications and missed appointments. Once I actually got on the road, the miscommunications continued to plague me, and then the brand new tire that I had waited two days for failed. In the pouring rain, in Red Deer. After the lovely gentleman from AMA Roadside Assistance had put my spare on, I limped to the local franchise of the tire company that had installed said new tire, only to be treated with blatant sexism ("Well, honey, I don't know that I can help you...) and even more blatant lies about the cost and availability of a new tire.
After much teeth-grinding and Googling, I discovered another franchise located in Olds, which is where I wanted to be anyway, and we set off on the back roads, driving slowly and carefully on the emergency spare. The Olds franchise was happy to help me, and I worked my way back to the College. Where I was immediately met with chaos and panic. The College was serving as an evacuation centre for the victims of the flooding that was impacting much of Southern Alberta at that time and this was causing much confusion with the housing staff. Keys were being mixed up and double bookings abounded. Instructors were stranded by mudslides and washouts. Mayhem ruled.
There was not much I could do about any of it, though, so I decided to move into my condo. Exhausted, cranky, and overwhelmed, I grabbed an armful of stuff and trudged through the rain to my accommodation. I opened the door and there was a young woman who looked very familiar to me--I presumed I recognized her from the Master Spinner Program--who said something like "Hey, looks like we get to be room mates!"
To which I replied something along the lines of "Huh."
Not really smooth and eloquent, but apropos to the moment.
The evening progressed, I ate and had a glass of wine and chatted with good friends. I went back to my condo, where my room mate, whose name I had now remembered, was already in her room. I went to bed, thinking nothing more than "Thank goodness I am warm and dry and all is well."
The next day was a busy one for me, so after a brief exchange of good mornings and small talk about the weather with my roomie, I went about my rounds, making sure instructors had everything they needed, familiarizing newbies with the campus, and shooting interviews for Fibre Optic. I had a quick supper with my son, then headed back for a quiet evening in the condos.
My room mate was in, and I poured a glass of wine and sat down to chat with her. By now, I had fully remembered who she was--she had taken a class from me last year at Fibre Week. And, unfortunately for her, she had been there when I had my momentous meltdown. And worse yet, she had felt that she may have triggered it by raising the question about the handout that threw me for a loop. And then I had been rude and abrupt with her as I moved in.
A moment of personal doubt, and a few tiny, careless acts, and I had given this poor woman the idea that I disliked her. Which was not the least bit true, but that was how she had seen me. Hopefully, we have cleared the air, but the point that even my unconscious actions could impact someone this way really threw me for a loop.
The other story is a happier one. As I mentioned before, there were five graduates from the Master
Spinner Program this year. I was fortunate enough to have taught 3 of them, so I know I somehow influenced them, for good or for bad. But when I congratulated one of the two I had not taught, she thanked me profusely for helping her so much through the program.
Now, I had chatted with her. I had gone out for dinner with her, or sat with her at lunch. But I had never taught her. Never marked her books. Never helped her with her homework. How had I helped her through the program?
So, she told me the story of her Level One year, when she was overwhelmed and frustrated and scared that she couldn't handle the amount of work ahead of her. She was headed back to her condo, admitting defeat and thinking she didn't fit in. She was passing a bunch of Level Six students who were heading out for dinner, and one of them asked if she wanted to come along. That would have been me.
I don't remember that dinner. I have no idea who was there, or what we talked about, or where we ate. But SHE remembered that dinner as the moment she realized that she was welcome and that she fit in. A simple, careless gesture on my part--"Hey, want to join us for dinner?"--was a turning point in her life.
What both of these encounters reminded me was that it is not the great things that we do, but the little, tiny ones, that change the world. We impact people without even recognizing it with the little things we do every day.
When you drop a great big rock into a pool of water, there is a great big splash and everyone notices. When you drop a tiny pebble into that same pool of water, there are just tiny ripples that are barely noticeable. But those tiny ripples spread outward and go on and on, and we may never know where they end up.
So, while I will continue to drop big rocks and try to make a splash, what I'm really going to do is remember that I can accomplish much more by dropping the tiny pebbles and making those tiny ripples.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
California Odyssey Part Three: The Happiest Place on Earth
After a fabulous 10 days of writing and beach-walking, I sadly said goodbye to Ventura and headed southward toward LAX to return my rental car. The drive that day was worthy of a post all it's own. People in my weaving class had recommended the PCH as a route, and I decided it was worth a shot.
Or several shots...
The Pacific Coast Highway meanders along, well, the Pacific coast. The scenery is spectacular, and the traffic is fairly light and easy-going. It was a fabulous drive, and I wound up at Santa Monica just as the sun broke through the marine layer and made the day even more beautiful...
It was a lovely way to transition from peace and solitude to the hustle-bustle of one of the world's busiest theme parks. And transition I did!
My daughter Lexi flew in to join me, and we had a wonderful time. We rode the rides and ate the food and just hung out...
We met Goofy...
...and Donald Duck...
...and Tigger!
We had fun...
My whole family are big Disneyland fans, and we know a lot of the little ins and outs of the park. It's almost like coming home for us to visit both Disneyland and Disney's California Adventure, and I think that I have way more fun with my kids there now that they are adults than we did even when they were little. It was great to connect with each other and play.
I've been home now for almost 4 weeks, back to my hectic life, and the rested feeling is long gone. Life marches on, bringing with it the frantic tedium of day-to-day, interspersed with bouts of stress and nonsense. But all I have to do is sit down for five minutes and remember California and it all fades away. The sights and sounds, the people, the learning and growing, and the sheer joy that I found on that trip have altered me forever.
But when you boil it all down, no matter where you come from, and no matter where you go, there's no place like home. And my home is, truly, The Happiest Place on Earth.
Or several shots...
The Pacific Coast Highway meanders along, well, the Pacific coast. The scenery is spectacular, and the traffic is fairly light and easy-going. It was a fabulous drive, and I wound up at Santa Monica just as the sun broke through the marine layer and made the day even more beautiful...
It was a lovely way to transition from peace and solitude to the hustle-bustle of one of the world's busiest theme parks. And transition I did!
My daughter Lexi flew in to join me, and we had a wonderful time. We rode the rides and ate the food and just hung out...
We met Goofy...
...and Donald Duck...
...and Tigger!
We had fun...
My whole family are big Disneyland fans, and we know a lot of the little ins and outs of the park. It's almost like coming home for us to visit both Disneyland and Disney's California Adventure, and I think that I have way more fun with my kids there now that they are adults than we did even when they were little. It was great to connect with each other and play.
I've been home now for almost 4 weeks, back to my hectic life, and the rested feeling is long gone. Life marches on, bringing with it the frantic tedium of day-to-day, interspersed with bouts of stress and nonsense. But all I have to do is sit down for five minutes and remember California and it all fades away. The sights and sounds, the people, the learning and growing, and the sheer joy that I found on that trip have altered me forever.
But when you boil it all down, no matter where you come from, and no matter where you go, there's no place like home. And my home is, truly, The Happiest Place on Earth.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Commercial Break
I just wanted to pop in and let you know that I have launched an exciting new project, and I could use your help.
I am developing a new web series about fibre and the people who raise it, process it, and work with it called Fibre Optic Television. I am very excited about this project, even though the size and scope of it seem a little overwhelming at times.
If you want some more information about what I'm up to, you can like my Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Fibre-Optic-Television/367460223365034
Or you can check out my Indiegogo fundraising campaign: http://igg.me/p/409743/x/224608 and maybe even throw a couple of bucks my way to get this thing up and running.
Hopefully, if a few people are willing to help cover the travel and production costs, I will have this series recorded and ready to air by early January, 2014. I'm really excited and I hope I can get the rest of the fibre world excited, too. Spread the word!
And stay tuned to a computer near you...
We will now return you to our regularly scheduled blog.
I am developing a new web series about fibre and the people who raise it, process it, and work with it called Fibre Optic Television. I am very excited about this project, even though the size and scope of it seem a little overwhelming at times.
If you want some more information about what I'm up to, you can like my Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Fibre-Optic-Television/367460223365034
Or you can check out my Indiegogo fundraising campaign: http://igg.me/p/409743/x/224608 and maybe even throw a couple of bucks my way to get this thing up and running.
Hopefully, if a few people are willing to help cover the travel and production costs, I will have this series recorded and ready to air by early January, 2014. I'm really excited and I hope I can get the rest of the fibre world excited, too. Spread the word!
And stay tuned to a computer near you...
We will now return you to our regularly scheduled blog.
Monday, May 13, 2013
California Odyssey Part Two: Ventura and Points Beyond
When we last left the tale of my California Odyssey, I had packed my bags and trundled my new loom into my rented chariot and travelled down the mountain to Ventura. I was, all of a sudden, in a new town without adult supervision.
Ventura is a lovely little city on the California coast, just north of the Malibu area. I had rented a cottage that turned out to be in a lovely little spot on top of a hill just above the Mission, walking distance from downtown and the beach. It was a quiet and extremely charming spot, with a huge garden that was constantly filled with the singing of birds and the buzzing of hummingbirds. I had a view of orange groves up the side of a mountain, and a wee glimpse of the ocean. But mostly, I had solitude.
You see, I am writing a book. THERE! I put it on the interwebs for all to see. I am writing a book about spinning. I do not have a publishing deal, I do not have an agent, and, frankly, I do not have a deadline. But, I am writing.
I had started chipping away at an outline and an early draft in January, but life being life, there were too many distractions. I got the flu, we had medical appointments, there was laundry to be washed. Life. And a wee bit of procrastination. So we figured a change of scenery, a break in the routine, would be the answer.
Turns out it was. I wrote every morning until I ran out of words, or until my fingers started to cramp from the typing. Then I went on an adventure.
I would walk down to the Mission...
or out to Surfer's Point...
I walked on the State Beach...
...or out on the pier ...
And I had bigger adventures, too.
Through one of the women I met in my class in Ojai, I was introduced to Randy, a spinner from Santa Barbara, who invited me up to her community for a day. So, one drizzly morning, I set out for Santa Barbara, where I had a marvellous visit with Randy and a tour of that gorgeous city. The rain had lifted by the time I got to Santa Barbara, and we talked fibre and spinning before heading for lunch on the terrace of El Encanto. We continued to talk fibre and spinning through lunch, when we were not distracted by the incredible view. And we talked fibre and spinning as we drove around and explored Santa Barbara until it was time for me to head home. And, I TOOK NOT ONE PICTURE. No, not a one, so I have to rely on my already sketchy memory to remind me of the beautiful day. Or, maybe, I will just have to go back.
Then there was more writing and more meandering around Ventura. I discovered the whereabouts of the local Trader Joe's and stocked up on some of my favourite goodies there. I rambled through the shops downtown and treated myself to some new clothes. I even checked out the Local Yarn Shop--Anacapa Fine Yarns, (which leads to another story that I will tell later, because it is not a story about Ventura or the lovely folks at Anacapa). Did I mention there was writing? I know I have a lot to say about yarn, but...WOW. I have a LOT to say about yarn.
After a couple of days of just hanging out, I set out on another adventure, this time with one of my classmates from the weaving class. We went to Solvang to visit Village Spinning and Weaving. Solvang is a stunning drive north from Ventura along the Pacific Coast and a quick turn inland, where you suddenly find yourself in a totally different world. Solvang's architecture and layout is based on a Danish village, so you see things like...
...windmills on the main drag...
...and Hamlet square.
The downtown area is filled with lovely little boutiques and quirky shops, and, of course, Village Spinning and Weaving, where no small amounts of time and money were spent. We had lunch, then meandered the non-spinning-and-weaving shops for a while, then discovered that it was farmer's market day.
Now, I am a bit of a farmer's market junkie. I cannot walk away from one empty-handed. I went to the farmer's market in Ojai, I had been to the one in Ventura just days before, but we had to poke along through this one, too. So I managed to toddle on home from Solvang with plenty of yarn and a big sack of strawberries and veggies.
More writing and beach strolling, with a bit of weaving in the sunshine...
...filled up my week, and before I knew it, it was time to move on again.
I was actually a little sad to leave Ventura and my little nest, but that didn't last too long because my next stop was Disneyland!
Stay tuned...
Ventura is a lovely little city on the California coast, just north of the Malibu area. I had rented a cottage that turned out to be in a lovely little spot on top of a hill just above the Mission, walking distance from downtown and the beach. It was a quiet and extremely charming spot, with a huge garden that was constantly filled with the singing of birds and the buzzing of hummingbirds. I had a view of orange groves up the side of a mountain, and a wee glimpse of the ocean. But mostly, I had solitude.
You see, I am writing a book. THERE! I put it on the interwebs for all to see. I am writing a book about spinning. I do not have a publishing deal, I do not have an agent, and, frankly, I do not have a deadline. But, I am writing.
I had started chipping away at an outline and an early draft in January, but life being life, there were too many distractions. I got the flu, we had medical appointments, there was laundry to be washed. Life. And a wee bit of procrastination. So we figured a change of scenery, a break in the routine, would be the answer.
Turns out it was. I wrote every morning until I ran out of words, or until my fingers started to cramp from the typing. Then I went on an adventure.
I would walk down to the Mission...
or out to Surfer's Point...
I walked on the State Beach...
...or out on the pier ...
And I had bigger adventures, too.
Through one of the women I met in my class in Ojai, I was introduced to Randy, a spinner from Santa Barbara, who invited me up to her community for a day. So, one drizzly morning, I set out for Santa Barbara, where I had a marvellous visit with Randy and a tour of that gorgeous city. The rain had lifted by the time I got to Santa Barbara, and we talked fibre and spinning before heading for lunch on the terrace of El Encanto. We continued to talk fibre and spinning through lunch, when we were not distracted by the incredible view. And we talked fibre and spinning as we drove around and explored Santa Barbara until it was time for me to head home. And, I TOOK NOT ONE PICTURE. No, not a one, so I have to rely on my already sketchy memory to remind me of the beautiful day. Or, maybe, I will just have to go back.
Then there was more writing and more meandering around Ventura. I discovered the whereabouts of the local Trader Joe's and stocked up on some of my favourite goodies there. I rambled through the shops downtown and treated myself to some new clothes. I even checked out the Local Yarn Shop--Anacapa Fine Yarns, (which leads to another story that I will tell later, because it is not a story about Ventura or the lovely folks at Anacapa). Did I mention there was writing? I know I have a lot to say about yarn, but...WOW. I have a LOT to say about yarn.
After a couple of days of just hanging out, I set out on another adventure, this time with one of my classmates from the weaving class. We went to Solvang to visit Village Spinning and Weaving. Solvang is a stunning drive north from Ventura along the Pacific Coast and a quick turn inland, where you suddenly find yourself in a totally different world. Solvang's architecture and layout is based on a Danish village, so you see things like...
...windmills on the main drag...
...and Hamlet square.
The downtown area is filled with lovely little boutiques and quirky shops, and, of course, Village Spinning and Weaving, where no small amounts of time and money were spent. We had lunch, then meandered the non-spinning-and-weaving shops for a while, then discovered that it was farmer's market day.
Now, I am a bit of a farmer's market junkie. I cannot walk away from one empty-handed. I went to the farmer's market in Ojai, I had been to the one in Ventura just days before, but we had to poke along through this one, too. So I managed to toddle on home from Solvang with plenty of yarn and a big sack of strawberries and veggies.
More writing and beach strolling, with a bit of weaving in the sunshine...
...filled up my week, and before I knew it, it was time to move on again.
I was actually a little sad to leave Ventura and my little nest, but that didn't last too long because my next stop was Disneyland!
Stay tuned...
Thursday, May 09, 2013
California Odyssey Part One: Navajo Weaving
Hey!
I'm back.
You may recall that when I last checked in, I was in a bit of a funk. Not so much a funk as a period of distraction. I was not interested in spinning or knitting, I couldn't write a coherent sentence to save my soul, and I was flitting about, keeping busy doing nothing.
I will freely admit that I did plan a period of nothing in my life after the stress overdose of the past few years, but I had no idea it would be so...well...boring and crazy-making.
Fortunately for me, though, the brilliant man that I married saw this coming and sort of forced and adventure on my restless spirit. He was getting a little tired of me saying that I would write a book someday and then spending my days baking bread and folding laundry into shapes that would make an origami master green with envy. He wanted me to focus, and I couldn't focus when there were distractions like trying to find a way out of walking the dog when it's 30 below. And he knew that it would take an adventure to snap me out of my funk. So he gave me a budget and set me loose on Expedia.
I looked at The Tropics and Europe and Asia. I pondered a snowy cabin in the woods, and a spa in the desert. And I finally decided that I would go to Arizona. ("Wait!", you say, "Isn't this about a CALIFORNIA odyssey?" Yes. Yes it is. Hang in there, I'm getting to it.)
I hunted for plane tickets and vacation rentals and museums and libraries and all the things to do in Arizona. And one of the things that drifted through my searching was a Navajo weaving workshop in Canyon de Chelly. This one little thing piqued my interest in all things string that had been laying dormant for so long, and I started to hunt around for information about the tour and the instructors. This led to the discovery that the same instructors were leading a workshop in Ojai, California the week prior to the Canyon de Chelly class. A longer class, for a lower cost. A search for Ojai led to some interesting points of interest, some fibery, some not. And I found a great deal on a vacation rental in Ventura, not far from Ojai. And it all clicked. A seat sale came along, then a deal on a hotel room in Ojai. There was room in the workshop for me, and I even had that stroke of inspiration that started the book.
So, off I set for Ojai. I knew Ojai was north of Los Angeles, so I flew into LAX and hopped into a rental car and set off for Ojai. The GPS told me it would be about an hour and a half, but what it didn't tell me is that the first 45 minutes was on the busiest freeway in the known universe at rush hour. Eight lanes of traffic, all changing lanes and zinging past at light speed, and me not knowing where I was going...EEP. However, I managed to survive and get to the relatively quieter 101 and to Ventura without incident and up the now dark, windy road to Ojai.
The next morning was day one of five, and I was introduced to the basics of Navajo weaving. And I was instantly in love. I had been told once that maybe I should just accept that weaving was not my thing (and by a fairly famous weaving teacher, too!), but I had clearly just not found the right kind of weaving yet. I was waiting for Navajo weaving.
I worked away on my little rug, loving the flow of the yarn in my hands and the rhythm of the beating of my comb...
I made mistakes and learned to correct them. I concentrated on keeping my edges straight. I made a little rug. Not a perfect rug, but MY rug...
The instructors, Lynda Pete and Barbara Ornelas, are sisters who are fifth-generation Navajo weavers in the Two Grey Hills tradition. They shared traditions and stories of their lives growing up as weavers and taught fumbling newbies like me to weave with great patience and humour. Linda was the patient soul who taught the beginners, like me and Rene....
...while Barbara worked with those in the group who had taken classes before and had an idea of what they were doing, like Steve....
...and Leslie...
...who seem to have grasped a little more than the basics.
One of the high points of my week came when Barbara was spinning warps on her mother's Navajo spindle for our warping workshop...
Well, technically, she was respinning commercially spun singles, driving more twist in to make a sturdy warp. Knowing I was a spinner, she explained the techniques and showed me the right amount of twist, then let me try...
I had nowhere near the speed and skill that Barbara has, but I have a far better understanding of the Navajo spindle now and have ordered one to practice on from Lynda's husband, Belvin, who also built the looms we used.
I finished my rug, along with a few others in the class, and Barbara said a traditional Navajo blessing over the rugs. We cut the selvedges, and I brought my ends home to plant in my garden so my rug will always know where it's home is.
I took the warping class, too. Which didn't go quite so smoothly. I made a really dumb mistake, crossing my warps at some place, which led to Barbara having to unwarp and rethread a good third of the warp by hand...
My job was to keep tension on the warp yarn as she worked it back into the selvedges, which meant I spent a lot of time with this view...
I was terribly upset by the inconvenience that I was putting the teachers to, but I learned a great lesson about patience--using it when I work, having it with myself, and the gift of the patience of others for the mistakes learners make. And in the end, I had a warp for my next rug...
..which I began weaving the next day when I moved to Ventura and Part Two of the California Odyssey.
I'm back.
You may recall that when I last checked in, I was in a bit of a funk. Not so much a funk as a period of distraction. I was not interested in spinning or knitting, I couldn't write a coherent sentence to save my soul, and I was flitting about, keeping busy doing nothing.
I will freely admit that I did plan a period of nothing in my life after the stress overdose of the past few years, but I had no idea it would be so...well...boring and crazy-making.
Fortunately for me, though, the brilliant man that I married saw this coming and sort of forced and adventure on my restless spirit. He was getting a little tired of me saying that I would write a book someday and then spending my days baking bread and folding laundry into shapes that would make an origami master green with envy. He wanted me to focus, and I couldn't focus when there were distractions like trying to find a way out of walking the dog when it's 30 below. And he knew that it would take an adventure to snap me out of my funk. So he gave me a budget and set me loose on Expedia.
I looked at The Tropics and Europe and Asia. I pondered a snowy cabin in the woods, and a spa in the desert. And I finally decided that I would go to Arizona. ("Wait!", you say, "Isn't this about a CALIFORNIA odyssey?" Yes. Yes it is. Hang in there, I'm getting to it.)
I hunted for plane tickets and vacation rentals and museums and libraries and all the things to do in Arizona. And one of the things that drifted through my searching was a Navajo weaving workshop in Canyon de Chelly. This one little thing piqued my interest in all things string that had been laying dormant for so long, and I started to hunt around for information about the tour and the instructors. This led to the discovery that the same instructors were leading a workshop in Ojai, California the week prior to the Canyon de Chelly class. A longer class, for a lower cost. A search for Ojai led to some interesting points of interest, some fibery, some not. And I found a great deal on a vacation rental in Ventura, not far from Ojai. And it all clicked. A seat sale came along, then a deal on a hotel room in Ojai. There was room in the workshop for me, and I even had that stroke of inspiration that started the book.
So, off I set for Ojai. I knew Ojai was north of Los Angeles, so I flew into LAX and hopped into a rental car and set off for Ojai. The GPS told me it would be about an hour and a half, but what it didn't tell me is that the first 45 minutes was on the busiest freeway in the known universe at rush hour. Eight lanes of traffic, all changing lanes and zinging past at light speed, and me not knowing where I was going...EEP. However, I managed to survive and get to the relatively quieter 101 and to Ventura without incident and up the now dark, windy road to Ojai.
The next morning was day one of five, and I was introduced to the basics of Navajo weaving. And I was instantly in love. I had been told once that maybe I should just accept that weaving was not my thing (and by a fairly famous weaving teacher, too!), but I had clearly just not found the right kind of weaving yet. I was waiting for Navajo weaving.
I worked away on my little rug, loving the flow of the yarn in my hands and the rhythm of the beating of my comb...
I made mistakes and learned to correct them. I concentrated on keeping my edges straight. I made a little rug. Not a perfect rug, but MY rug...
The instructors, Lynda Pete and Barbara Ornelas, are sisters who are fifth-generation Navajo weavers in the Two Grey Hills tradition. They shared traditions and stories of their lives growing up as weavers and taught fumbling newbies like me to weave with great patience and humour. Linda was the patient soul who taught the beginners, like me and Rene....
...while Barbara worked with those in the group who had taken classes before and had an idea of what they were doing, like Steve....
...and Leslie...
...who seem to have grasped a little more than the basics.
One of the high points of my week came when Barbara was spinning warps on her mother's Navajo spindle for our warping workshop...
Well, technically, she was respinning commercially spun singles, driving more twist in to make a sturdy warp. Knowing I was a spinner, she explained the techniques and showed me the right amount of twist, then let me try...
I had nowhere near the speed and skill that Barbara has, but I have a far better understanding of the Navajo spindle now and have ordered one to practice on from Lynda's husband, Belvin, who also built the looms we used.
I finished my rug, along with a few others in the class, and Barbara said a traditional Navajo blessing over the rugs. We cut the selvedges, and I brought my ends home to plant in my garden so my rug will always know where it's home is.
I took the warping class, too. Which didn't go quite so smoothly. I made a really dumb mistake, crossing my warps at some place, which led to Barbara having to unwarp and rethread a good third of the warp by hand...
My job was to keep tension on the warp yarn as she worked it back into the selvedges, which meant I spent a lot of time with this view...
I was terribly upset by the inconvenience that I was putting the teachers to, but I learned a great lesson about patience--using it when I work, having it with myself, and the gift of the patience of others for the mistakes learners make. And in the end, I had a warp for my next rug...
..which I began weaving the next day when I moved to Ventura and Part Two of the California Odyssey.
Wednesday, March 06, 2013
Stuck
I'm stuck. Jammed. In a rut. Unmoving. Between a rock and a hard place. Nowhere to go.
Yup, I have come up against our old friend, Creative Block.
I had great plans back in January. I had ideas for a dozen projects, all of them brilliant. I accumulated the necessary materials. I started spinning. I cast on. I threaded a loom. I made notes for articles. I was on a roll.
Then, I just stopped rolling. Nothing terrible happened. I'm fine. The family's fine. Life is good. I just don't want to make anything right now. I pick up my knitting and put it back down five minutes later. I sit down to write a blog post and stare at the blank screen for half an hour. I spin for fifteen minutes and I have to get up and rearrange the bookshelf because it's bugging me.
I still love the projects that I have started. I am, slowly, chipping away at them. But for right now, I need to be doing something else. I just don't know what.
I'll let you know when I get back on track.
Yup, I have come up against our old friend, Creative Block.
I had great plans back in January. I had ideas for a dozen projects, all of them brilliant. I accumulated the necessary materials. I started spinning. I cast on. I threaded a loom. I made notes for articles. I was on a roll.
Then, I just stopped rolling. Nothing terrible happened. I'm fine. The family's fine. Life is good. I just don't want to make anything right now. I pick up my knitting and put it back down five minutes later. I sit down to write a blog post and stare at the blank screen for half an hour. I spin for fifteen minutes and I have to get up and rearrange the bookshelf because it's bugging me.
I still love the projects that I have started. I am, slowly, chipping away at them. But for right now, I need to be doing something else. I just don't know what.
I'll let you know when I get back on track.
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