Day 147: I am a bit ashamed to admit that I never named this loom, and now with the red crackle-weave Scandinavian tablecloth and green centerpiece off the rollers, she is naked before me for the last time. I did not know that looms asked for names when she came into my life some twenty or so years ago, a gift from a stranger who knew me solely from having come to one of my yard sales. I brought her home in pieces, many pieces, with no clear knowledge of how they went together, but by the end of the following day and after several trips to the hardware store, she was ready for her first warp. I do not recall what I wove first on this grand old lady, but she has served me well, never empty for more than 48 hours. She has her foibles, as do we all, but nothing major, nothing to impinge on our relationship. I know I will miss her when she leaves, because soon she is slated to take up residence with a friend and his husband. I sincerely hope they amend my dereliction of duty by giving her a proper name.
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