Blue Bird of Happiness

Class is over and I am home. I feel competent enough to clean and lube a machine, to set the hook timing, and change out a few parts here and there. I am not ready to totally disassemble and reassemble a machine. Out of four machines, I have made two whole again. Another is a puzzle, and another needs a part that I don't feel comfortable changing out just yet. So, I guess I should be happy with that - but I'm not. But I will get over it.

Thornton, from Canada, Ray White, Billy from South Carolina, Amanda from the Penland School of craft, David from Knoxville. Not shown is William from Illinois. 

Ray White, Instructor.

As I look at these pictures, and remember the progress the other students made, I do feel better about what I accomplished. I was right up there with them in most things, so maybe with some time and more and different machines under my belt, I will feel more competent. (I hate being and/or feeling incompetent. I want to be head of the class. I want to be the smartest, and it's a blow to my pride when I am not.) I was a solid B student and I got my certificate.

The red socks are knit. These are from yarn I dyed last fall. They have gone to a friend with size 10 feet.

I heard sad news from a friend over the weekend. He and his wife came home from their lake cottage to find their 24 year-old son dead from a heroin overdose. My friend had told me his son had talked suicide at times, but he was in therapy and on medication for depression, so he was hopeful that his son could get well. He also told me his frustration about that son, who couldn't seem to finish projects or stay out of trouble or keep a job. His other son was never a problem - good grades, good kid, good worker, good husband, good father. It makes me sad and I feel their pain. It's horrible. I know he wonders what he could have done to prevent this tragedy. My friend said he is sure it was an accidental overdose because he had bought new speakers for his car that morning and was making plans for the future and he had been doing better and all that. And I won't tell him otherwise, but I doubt it was an accident.

This comes 6 weeks after another friend lost her 18 year-old son in a truck crash. So much sadness.