NORTHERN CALIFORNIA HANDWEAVER'S CONFERENCE

I learned a lot this weekend at the annual nchc, held in santa clara. I didn't go to any workshops or classes (though I would have loved to), but I learned a lot about myself and the deep, dark pit of emptiness lurking inside me that needs to be satiated. Previously I had thought this void only could find temporary filling through drugs and sex, alcohol on a hard day and yoga on a good one, but now, I see, as my lungs get lined with microfibers, yarn will suffice.
Something happened to me at the conference that I have experienced before only in college, while at a precipice of shirking, or as an adult after a bender on the morning before work. I was standing alone, yet amidst many people, giggling in a high-pitch, nearly shrieking, while I considered spending every last penny of my savings, quitting my job and escaping to Mexico. I have always thought myself immune to over-spending. In my family it is a joke that although we are susceptible to nearly every other vice, we're not gamblers, and we're not shoppers. I have not bought clothes for myself in years. My mother has to drag me, a grown woman, to the clothing store once a year so I can be outfitted in more than rags and items I've found in the free box. I see my peers, young women in stylish threads - clothes that fit without ropes for belts, entire outfits without even one hole(!), "charming" dresses, shirts that their moms did not send them in a box after a sale at tj maxx (thanks mom!!! still got 'em all!) Those women buy their own clothes. They spend their money on them. They look nice. BUT I WILL HAVE YARN.

AND YARN I NOW HAVE. I'm not exactly sure what the repercussions of this spending vortex will be for me financially. My hope is that if I just keep working, a little wrinkle in time will open where it won't affect me in the long run. The repercussions in the world of my weaving are that I now have a stacked studio, with choices of bamboo, fine worsted wool, mercerized and unmercerized cotton, fat rug wool and the finest of fine silks and merino wool available to me for making 24/7. I have not really slept in days.

Perhaps because it scared me - the near out-of-control-ness I felt in that giant convention center room, dizzy from recycled air and lack of natural light, the din of all those women chit-chatting about warps and wefts. But maybe it was a weaver crone's parting shot as I made my final purchase, good goddess, nearing hundreds of dollars over what was supposed to be my final purchase..."IM SET NOW!", I exclaimed to her, as if I had to justify my purchases to the vendor selling them to me, "I AM TOTALLY STOCKED! I HAVE EVERYTHING I NEED!", my eyes rolling wildly, my smile stretching my jaw. "Ya hear that?", she said to a sister spinning nearby, "This new weaver said that she's set! She's got everything she needs!" And with that they both took to cackling loudly. "For now!", they both howled, as I quick grabbed another skein of 60/2 hand-dyed silk before she reached the final total.

All in all, the conference was a total success. Next year I'm going to enter some work into the juried competetion and sign up for one class. Highlights for me were the inspiring woven yardage in the gallery, especially the hand-dyed spot-lace silk "Sunset", the sweet dowey eyes of the alpacas (sweeter than any eye I have ever seen on any beast), getting to ride with my teacher, Maj-Britt Mobrand, who I relish spending time with, and of course, all the yarn.