purlingswine

I worked like a dog yesterday. (not a pug, mind you, but any other type of dog that might actually do some work. Something worthwhile and noble. not just a ripper outer of laptop H keys!!).

Anyway, I got everything done – including the lawn mowing – in order to be able to play with my wheel today. I believe I have already mentioned that my wheel’s name is Proud Mary.

My Boar helped me to get Proud Mary out of her box and all set up. He did seem somewhat intrigued by her – it must be her mechanical nature. So there we are, putting things together and I am reading the direction sheet. One of the pieces is called mother-of-all.

I giggle a bit at the pomposity of such a name. I remember making a joke and maybe even rolling my eyes somewhat. Boar also finds it amusing. I chalk it up to some kind of typo or translation problem. Proud Mary is from Canada — perhaps she is French Canadian.

As she is assembled, it is increasingly clear that I don’t have the slightest clue about spinng wheels. Everything seemed much clearer and easier when the lady at the shop was helping me.

Not to worry, I think to myself, I will simply read the handy book of spinning I also purchased. What do I see right at the beginning of the book???

A diagram of a wheel. With a big arrow pointing to The Mother of All.

I fear I have angered Mother. My arrogance, my superior smirk – surely these things won’t go unnoticed.

I have not gone near Proud Mary today. It is plain as day that I need to do some penitential reading first.

I am worried that I have a very-strict-Catholic-nun for a spinning wheel. I was hoping for more of a party girl. Rather than letting the good times roll, Proud Mary is likely to give my knuckles a rap.