I have woefully neglected writing in the last few weeks. It seems that I really CAN’T do everything at once.
I really believe it is possible.
I really do.
So, while I take a short break from the loom, I would like to tender my reasons (ok, excuses) for being out of touch.
It is the loom.
It is her fault.
She has joined a conspiracy group which I have named the ‘Frustration Fellowship’.
The group consists of the loom and 444 cotton threads. They have also enlisted the help of a raddle, lease sticks, zip ties, and choke ties. These latter members shall be identified with their part in this conspiracy.
The 444 threads (hereinafter known as “the threads” or “444”) made a decision that the person pulling them off their comfy cozy cones needed to be taught a lesson. That would be me (hereinafter known as the “weaver” or “me”).
They made their decision and waited their chance. That chance came when the weaver attempted to remove the threads from the warping board. It seems that although the threads were miffed about leaving their cones, when placed on the warping board as the weaver desired, they made friends with threads of another color. So much so that in the removal process they tried to remain as close to those friends as possible.
Please note that the friends were not necessarily immediately adjacent to each other. They could have been within a few inches of each other and communicated quite easily.
In order to remain close, it required some twisting and turning on the part of the 444 as they were removed from the warping board.
For clarification, here is a picture of a warping board with better behaved threads awaiting removal.
The 444 used great stealth and ingenuity to conceal their actions from the weaver.
When the weaver began placing the threads on the loom, the 444 realized that they may be separated from their friends. They would, if fact, be separated by color!!
Such injustice could not be tolerated. So, conspiring with the loom and the attached raddle, they formed a plan. A sinister, evil plan to prevent this separation.
Again, for clarification, is a photo of a completely innocent raddle and loom. The raddle is that spiky looking thing. The treads, as you can see, were trying their best to twist things. They never stop trying, it seems.
This time, the 444 enlisted the aid of the raddle. They (444) had managed, on the current weaving attempt, to twist sufficiently to gain the weaver’s attention. So, before things could get really out of hand, the weaver leaned over the raddle to untwist the threads that had been successful in their endeavor.
In doing so, the weaver nudged the raddle. The raddle, being of devious spirit, released its hold on the back beam (that’s that wooden thing that it is attached to in the previous photo). It could do this because, unlike the innocent raddle above, it was attached to the back beam with metal clips. All it had to do was get a starting shove and over it went taking 444 with it.
The lease sticks (which aid in the process) agreed that, should such a thing happen, they too would release their hold on the loom.
The 444 landed in a heap. Some of the members landed under the raddle. Some landed on top. Some found long lost friends when they traveled several yarn miles to the left or right. The theory is that they spread their loose fibers to act as wings. Like a flying squirrel. That may have been true but the fact remains that they were aided by the full gainer flip that the lease sticks had managed.
The weaver, angry at the threads and the loom and the raddle, grabbed the threads by the throat and threw them over the back beam. This was not good behavior but it had been the actions that the 444 had hoped would occur. It created more chaos.
The weaver then reached for the raddle and removed it from the fray. Some of the 444 did not wish to go with the raddle. The subsequent physical discussion led to the severing of relations with the raddle. There were many wounded threads.
The lease sticks, seeing the horror of it all, held tight to the threads. These heroic actions earned them leniency later on when tried for their treasonous intent.
But the resultant tangle was a graveyard of 444 threads. Each had been 11 yards long.
There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth.
And then the logical, legal mind of the weaver spoke. “Be quiet”, it said. “Think”, it said. “Walk away”, it said.
The spouse had fled the room at the first sounds of catastrophic failure. With no one else to blame or excoriate for the disaster, the weaver walked away and thought.
The weaver soon realized that the threads could be punished AND brought to proper positions with slow, methodical care. No more wailing. No more gnashing of teeth.
The threads that were broken could be healed.
The threads that had wrapped around their friends could be gently cajoled and carefully placed in their proper positions BECAUSE they were still tied in choke holds at about every yard or so. (For the zip ties and choke ties could not complete their part of the conspiracy having been tied properly at the beginning) The 444 could not escape the proper order. The process would not be easy. It would take time, effort and a calm spirit.
Many times the weaver became discouraged. Many times the weaver thought to let the threads try to survive in a land fill. But, today, before she threw it all in the garbage for being a trashy bunch of disloyal conspirators, the weaver simply walked away (for the fortieth time).
This time she told the Universe about it.