A lovely offer

My daughter, Beth, came to visit a couple of weeks ago. She hasn't seen my new "digs" yet. I asked her to tighten a screw on the Artistat I'm currently using for weaving, and in the course of the discussion I said how I wished I still had the counterbalance Mira I donated to Praxis, several years ago. It is a workhorse, and I'm afraid I'm beating the little Artistat to death.

That entire gift had come about because Beth, and the studio owner are friends. Out came her phone, and Beth asked if the Mira were available as a trade back. Jessica said "Yes, your mom should have her loom back." That probably will happen next week. We got it out of the old house only with the removal of the treadle bar, and I do hope we can get it in here the same way. And I am so grateful to Jessica.

The counterbalance Mira in the old studio. Isn't she a beauty!

I've just finished listening to The Old Curiosity Shop. It may be a Dickens I never read. Brain injury notwithstanding, I have no recollection, no clue of this book in the past. I was in no way impressed, except one. In fact, I almost gave up, before coming to the bit that engrossed me.

I'm sorry I don't know Mark Twain's opinion of the book. Mark Twain advised, on writing, if there is a character the author no longer knows how to handle, just take that character out back and push him down the well.

Actually, I felt that is what Dickens did with Little Nell. He certainly wrapped up a good deal of plot and action in that last chapter, including disposing of villain Quilp by drowning. But the center of the book, the tale of Grandfather's downfall by gambling, borrowing, gambling I found so well characterized it clutched at me. I could have used a trigger warning.

Which set me thinking about "trigger warnings".

On Thanksgiving Day, my neighbor and I saw Knives Up!  The only review I read of the film before I saw it was a Times Opinion piece that felt the film played fast and loose with illegal immigration, and we, or at least she, should have been given a trigger warning.

I hearken back to reading Lord of the Flies, the last quarter of which I read only enough of each page to ascertain Jack remained alive. To this day I have not reread the book. That's been fifty some years. I dealt with it, satisfactorily enough to progress through life. No one, especially no college professor, gave trigger warnings.