Weave, weave, weave me the sunshine out of the falling rain
Weave me the hope of a new tomorrow and fill my cup again
Eat your heart out, Laura Ingalls Wilder.
In the olden days, people couldn't decompress by blowing things up on the computer, so they did things like this. Last night the basement debacle was no match for the powers of weaving lesson number four. Grandmother was right -- when wouldn't she be? -- it's a very relaxing and satisfying hobby. Thanks to her wonderful gift of her loom and GramTuna's gift of lessons, I was able to kick my monkey mind and sump pumps to the curb. At least for a little while.