I sold my floor loom.
(breathe)
The thought to do so began about a year ago or so. I was getting ready to move (again) and I didn’t feel the same love for all of the yarns and patterns and tools and wool that I had. It all felt …cumbersome. Maybe, I thought, this too has waned.
After all, many, many creative endeavors have come and gone. As I mentioned in a previous post (“Curiosity is an Irksome Itch”), it is a blessing-curse to have such a wonderment about the world and about how things work. Also, I have a love for home and for the homemade, so anything that adds to my nest teases me with possibilities. Thus, I dive in, read books, take classes, interview whomever I need to, and somehow, the necessary accoutrements come my way, usually through the most generous of people and/or Craigslist. And then, somehow (always somehow), those things slip out of my life in the softest ways, like a dream fading into fairy dust to fly in the wind.
I decided to wait, however, until after the move, jus…