Notes from Alexis: The song at the end of this letter is truly funny – a must see!
Well it is snowing here now so you know what it is doing in the passes. I’m worried about those F’s–no snow tires—and don’t know how to drive in the snow.
I got both studios cleaned out and Studio I is now ‘The Office’. I wanted to empty (and did) Studio II, so the kids could stay in there and not hurt anything or get hurt (by me if they hurt anything). I put everything in the Barn and the Dye Shop so I can lock them up.
I’ve put an ad in the newspaper trying to sell the large loom. Have decided that if it sells–fine and if not, will take it down and store it until it’s new owner wanders by.
I bought another green couch, second hand. Dad and I cleaned it up as good as it gets, and think it will work fine where the loom was.
I went down and closed the bank account and the tax account for Spinning Wheel. Boy, has this been a traumatic experience. I have been attached to the idea of a business for so long–about ten years and it has been hard to let go. I don’t let go of attachments easily. Places, yes. I seem to be able to move without too much stress, but people and ideas hang onto me, or I hang onto them. Now, of course, the truth is I don’t want to be in business, so why all this fuss? I really do want to get the computer and get on with the books and have the Frameworks be my hand work.
I finally told Dad about how hurt I am that he has never found my work interesting, but would want to buy someone else’s work. He was all defensive saying he had always liked my work. He did not convince me, but an interesting thing came out of it. He said I didn’t have a goal and this bothered him. This stopped me cold. It is true I have never had a goal, but I have never found this to be a handicap. If I had had a goal and stuck to it would I have turned aside for Frameworks and then EAB, or would I have missed them?
Peter Collingwood wrote an article on weaving years ago and said that sprang was an interesting form, but one couldn’t go hareing down every trail. This amuses me so much because since then he has:
1. developed the form beyond anything done before
2. had shows
3. written a book and
4. become the world authority on sprang.
So much for goals! Then later I got irritated all over again when it hit me that Dad has never had a goal in his life. Neither have any of the C’s. Some nerve! How come Gwen has to have goals? Maybe if you do nothing but watch TV it’s OK not to have goals, but if you get up off your butt and do many, many things, then you must have goals. Do you wonder that I consider the world mad?
Now if all this sounds cranky, it is. I went to bed cranky and I got up cranky. Yesterday I was testing cooked tomatoes. I didn’t get hives, but I did get cranky. Is that the fault of the tomatoes or what? I think this whole past summer was just a lot of factors all at one time, and they got me. However all is not bad. I have found that potatoes and beef are bad-headache givers, and that Alka-Seltzer helps get rid of it. So far-so good, I have never been a big beef and potatoes man.
I finally knew how to finish “The Fishing Expedition.” For some reason I have just been blocked and then I just went and did it, exactly as I had planned in the first place. Weirdly weird! My goodness but that piece touches me, it and ‘Windows.” (Framework pieces)
Am going to see little J. today- -his second month anniversary. Understand he sleeps with them, and now likes it so much won’t sleep alone. I started out saying if we could keep him alive until he was four that he could take care of his parents. Then I cut it down to two, but it would appear that he has the situation well in hand.
Just writing to you has improved my outlook. I’m up from cranky to miffed. I remembered that song I tried to sing for you and it amuses me so (always has) that I decided to send you a copy.
You will be interested to learn that one of my goals is to cut down on my activities to a manageable number. I’m down to four:
But not necessarily in that order at any given time. I hope you are laughing.
Just finished reading “Tracks” by Robyn Davidson, a funny, good book.
You notice nothing about EAB. I’m thinking, I’m thinking about it, it is stewing in the back of my mind all the time. By the way, many, many thanks for the pens, but only a dozen! Isn’t it funny how attached we get to something. I’m really under the impression I can’t write without my pens.
My God How the Money Rolls In
My father makes counterfeit money,
My mother makes bathtub gin,
My sister makes love for a living,
My God how the money rolls in, rolls in, rolls in.
My God how the money rolls in.
My brother’s a false missionary;
He saves little girls from their sins.
He’ll save you a blond for five dollars,
My God how the money rolls in, rolls in, rolls in,
My God how the money rolls in.
The cops came after my father,
My mother ran out of gin.
My sister married my brother,
My God what a predicament we’re in, we’re in,
My God what a predicament we’re in.