On Tuesday last week, an under the house bunny, (I guess Ramsey,) chewed through the only phone line that runs beneath the house. The one line that goes to the main phone and computer. (Can't be mad, merely inconvenienced. It's the price one pays for allowing bunnies to live all over.)
Sweetie had it fixed by Saturday afternoon, so that when I arrived home on Sunday from my weekend retreat/class at Shakertown in Pleasant Hill, Kentucky, I was finally able to read email, etc.
A retreat slash class, you ask? Yeah, I was bad and didn't talk it up in this blog. The blog I couldn't access from home the week prior.
I will be judicious and not name names. The following commentary is my opinion only. I paid for my class way back in February because Teacher was Big Time and had taught a workshop for the guild three or four years ago, which I missed because I had to tend to my Store. She was highly recommended by all and this was to be her maybe final out-of-state teaching gig, but I should have known better to commit to TWO seven hour classes. I can't sit, and pay attention, for that long anymore. Especially in a hot room sitting on an uncomfortable chair. When one's hands sweat so much that the wool sticks to the flesh and refuses to move.
Prepared properly she wasn't. She mostly sat on the floor with the 20 member class arranged around her at tables and chairs. An overhead projector could have been used to great advantage instead of us trying to see her little sketches from fifteen feet back. Or having to walk over to the middle of the room to get the closer view. Too many of the students had no idea what she was talking about, and a few monopolized her time to the detriment of the advanced students.
There should have been handouts, (she said Too Costly,) which would have saved many minutes of our drawing squares, triangles, parallelograms, etc. Also the folding and tearing of paper. My back ached after the first day like it hadn't in years. Crappy chairs. The Temperpedic mattress on the bed was welcomed.
She kept apologizing about her poor prep. Excuse me. Don't apologize. Either be prepared or refund our money.
(I would rather have attended a 2 or 3 hour seminar/lecture with her. Her ideas could have been quite effectively presented there. I believe I would have enjoyed that.)
Day 2 was less hot by a smidgen. Day 2 brought more apologies from teacher about lack of preparedness and so on. The room was only a bit less humidifacus.
After the Second Over-Priced Brown Bag Lunch provided by Shakertown's kitchen, and an hour of increasing unhappiness, I decided to pack up my Fiber and Needles, classroom supplies, the small suitcase and leave. One of the great things about growing older is that I Don't Have to Give a Fuck about Proprieties anymore. I did not have to stay. (The leaving was discreet, I hope.)
I was not happy and I was uncomfortable, with an achy back from sitting on crappy chairs too long. I left. I took my toys and drove home. Imagine the happiness and freedom I felt whilst driving away from Hateful Class and towards HOME.
Here is Claudia's surviving baby, as yet unnamed. Stewart, a small black angora, was the daddy foisted upon her. Her other kit did not thrive and died at about 10 days. He's sitting on Crazy Josh's shoulder.
Today, I baked three loaves of bread. Alert the media! Here they are cooling on the clever rack contained in our Hoosier cabinet.
