At the Homestead

Nothing I love more than a good challenge, especially where looms are concerned. I love returning a loom to operational status, taking it from unused to working again. Recently, I've been challenged to help get the barn frame loom  at the Daniel Boone Homestead functioning again.  I know very little about these great old ladies we call "barn looms" but in my recent research to glean more information, I am starting to learn some valuable pieces of information. For one, these looms are more appropriately called "barn frame looms" because of their construction, not because of the wood coming from a barn (as I had been told) or because they were used in a barn (as I have heard people say...brrr. Can't imagine weaving in a barn!).  

Daniel Boone Homestead's barn frame loom has been sitting unused for almost five years, at their best guess.  It was in decent condition, but dirty.  There was a warp on it, but it was old, filthy and stretched out, so we began our day cutting off the old warp...

...which made the ol' girl just a little bit unhappy. I reassured her she'd be feeling much better once she was clean and re-dressed.  From there we vacuumed up the big chunks of dirt and grime, followed by swiffer floor clothes and swiffer dusters to get into all the nooks and crannies.

2nd layer of dust removed.

Lastly? We filled a bucket with water and oil soap that is designed specifically for cleaning wood. We used barely damp sponges, carefully avoiding any metal parts, to remove any remaining grime.  We all stopped sneezing by this point, stepped back to admire her glory, then congratulated ourselves for a job well-done. The final result was a loom that looked so much better, and so much prettier. 

Removing the last little bits of dust and dirt

That was only the beginning of our day.  We still had to re-dress this beauty, so we used a warp that had been hanging off the loom for display.  Diane, a fellow spinner who had enlisted my help for this project, had taken the older warp home and cleaned it for this purpose. We were a bit challenged with a mystery warp,  but not for long.  After taking a few minutes to count the number of ends in the warp, we had a better idea of what we had to do next. 

we tied up the lease sticks, raddle was removed by this point

In hindsight, if I had known what we were facing when we set out yesterday morning, I would have brought some boards to clamp to the frame, attaching the raddle down to the board.  We took one look at the back of the loom, scratched our heads and said, "Huh, there's only a warp beam, no back beam. Hmmm..." We got creative with some carpet warp and figure out a away to suspend both the lease sticks and the raddle.  It worked, even if it was a bit awkward at times.  After we had the warp beamed, we set out to thread the string heddles.

And of course, after threading heddles, we brought the warp through the reed.

Through the reed.

   Sadly, I was foolish and didn't take any pictures after the warp was tied on.  I became too wrapped up in problem solving, and forgot to pick up two children from after-school activities.  Oops.  Clearly photography was even lower on my list of priorities.
 
   Whenever I am dealing with a loom that hasn't been used in awhile, I find I need to put on a test warp to check all its moving parts. I can do a visual examination and get a good idea of what to fix, or what to adjust, but it's not the same as sitting down and trying to weave. When things don't go smoothly in the weaving process, I know something is off and then I set to problem solving.  I figured this same method would work well for the barn frame loom.  For me, a loom is a loom is a loom, and the mechanics, more or less, are the same.  Sure, each loom has their own 'personality' and sometimes a weaver has to accommodate for that, especially where older looms are concerned.  However, part of my problem solving process is to determine what is a 'quirk' of that particular loom and what can be helped with some minor adjustments.

Through dressing the loom and weaving a little bit, I've already discovered some things that are possibly not quite right. I will most likely need to do some minor adjustments from re-arranging the string heddles, to testing to see if the batten (hanging beater) is put on incorrectly.  It seems odd that I would have to push the batten back a full 6" while stepping on the treadle to make a shed so I can throw the shuttle. And while this is not my first antique counter-balance loom, this is my first barn frame loom, and I'm going to need to do some more research.  Earlier in our day, we had already discovered one part that had been put on incorrectly: the brace that held the built-in bench was attached vertically on one side, but correctly on the opposite side of the frame.  The bench board is completely missing, so we hope to restore this in the near future.   This discovery alone makes me suspicious about the placement of the batten. I have a feeling I'll be doing more research on barn frame looms here in the near future. 

Oh! And by the way, if you see my family passing out fliers with my face on it and the words, "Missing, Reward Offered," you'll know where to find me.  I'm at the Daniel Boone Homestead getting to know a new "old" friend.

Who let me play with powertools?

Ohhhh, if you could have only been here on the afternoon I constructed a frame loom to see if I could turn the project into a Saturday Sampler. Because for me, the key to a successful Sampler, is test-driving the project over and over until I know the good, the bad, and the ugly, hoping to eliminate surprises that might turn up during the two hours of class. I know there are a gazillion and one ways to make a frame loom. I've seen looms constructed out of wood, metal, PVC pipe, and even a book. I'm not opposed to constructing a few more frame looms in variety of ways, but I wanted to start with the one I knew best: the one I made in my very first college Fibers class.

It's been 16 years since Fibers 101 when we constructed the very same loom I was attempting to re-create that afternoon. We used nails back then, and after working with Floyd this last year and a half, and seeing how he put things together more often than not, well, it gave me the brilliant idea to buy screws instead. I tried to use wood glue this time around as well, thinking it would add a layer of sturdiness to the loom. And oh, did I mention that sixteen years ago, the pieces were already pre-cut to a specific size on a power saw? No? Well, this time they weren't. So, I had to use a handsaw and apparently the teeth were too rough for the wood. I needed a finer tooth saw. It's a good thing my teenager son has a mouse sander.

While trying to get things square, I fought with the clamps and wood glue . I'd no sooner get one side square and clamped together, then the other would come apart. I wrangled my eleven year old daughter, Ruth, into being an extra pair of hands. Still, the wooden parts were slipping and sliding. After a bit, I managed to get the sides clamped down to the top piece of the loom.

Then came the drill. I knew enough to pre-drill the holes. But apparently, I didn't know enough about drill bits and screws to choose the right ones, both drill bits and screws. The screws were too big, and the drill bit too small. When my husband Jeremy walked up to the porch after he got home from work, he noticed I was fighting with getting one of the screws into the wood. I had asked him to help, but between the two of us, we split the wood. I say "we" because, as for me, I was the one who pre-drilled the hole. And he, because he'll tell anyone who listens, he's "Anti-handiman."

So I had to take that piece apart, which wasn't easy to do since the glue had set up, cut another bar the same size as before, and then had to try to re-assemble it. (Floyd makes this stuff look so easy!)

Joshua, my afore mentioned son, rode his bike up to the porch at that very moment. He was just getting back from hanging out with his friends. I looked up at him, and made sure to look as pitiful as I could, and said in a pleading, helpless voice, "Oh Josh. I need your help." I should be ashamed of myself, using my femininity that way, against a poor hapless, unsuspecting, young, man-in-training. After all, that "help-me-I'm-a-girl" bit never fails with males of any age, even though I suspect they already know what game we are playing. However, I was desperate enough to try anything that might make a teenage boy willing to help his mother. Floyd was on vacation, and I didn't want to wait a whole week to finish my frame loom.

Feeling all grown-up and manly, Joshua sauntered over to me and said, "What do you need?"

"I bought the wrong screws apparently, and I'm not doing so well with the cutting and measuring...and well, it's pretty ugly." I sat on the porch amidst parts and pieces strewn about. Blowing my hair out of my face, I added, "But hey, I've learned a lot. And now I'm ready to turn it over to someone with more expertise." Flattery will get a woman everywhere.

Sweet boy that he is, he held in his laughter as he scanned my "mess." "Sure," he said with a big smirk, as he leaned his bike against the porch railing and climbed over the gate. After inspecting what I had already completed, and listening to what needed to happen next, he helped me square up the bottom piece, while giving me advice about what I should have done instead.

When I asked him to drill the hole, he said "See, I love this drill. It has this level on the back with cross hairs so you know you're drilling perfectly straight."

"Well, huh, look at that." I said
"You didn't know that?"
"Nope. I didn't know that."

In about 1/10th of the time it took me to do the top of the loom, Joshua had the bottom fixed, and fixed the top half where I made mistakes. Well, O.K., in two places he accidentally drilled all the way through. After the second hole that went through the loom frame, he looked at me and said, "Two words: Wood Putty."

Until the next time I go unsupervised with tools...

~Melanie

I'm in Love...

I've never had too much enthusiasm for owning a counter-balance loom, with no real reason as to why. Most likely, because it wasn't the first type of loom I ever wove on. Since I prefer the familiar, the comfortable, the unchanged, I haven't really given this type of loom more thought. But say "Free Loom" to me, and suddenly I have developed a desire to own one. I believe I've developed a tendre for the smaller Lane loom over the last week or so. Which means, I'll probably become rather attached to the larger, once I start putting its pieces back together.

As usual, it took Floyd and I a few attempts to get the smaller Lane loom through two doorways and into the Loom Room."How about this?" I asked, wondering whether or not we turned the frame sideways would help.

"Still need some clearance," Floyd said. We set the loom down, and studied door number one.
"I bet we need to take the door off. We always need to take the door off, " I suggested.
"Yeah," Floyd said, staring at the door. "I was just hoping, just this once."
"We're always hoping, 'just this once' but we always take the door off," I replied.

Floyd chuckled ruefully, "Ok, back her up." We walked the frame back out of the narrow hallway and out onto the wide landing at the top of the first set of stairs. Setting it in front of the bathroom door, we walked back down the hall to take the door off its hinges. After which, we walked the loom back down the hall again, only to discover we had to further disassemble the loom frame. We were also hoping to avoid that as well.

"Ok, back her up," Floyd said, yet again. Walking back wards, we set Li'l Lane back down, again, on the landing. Floyd grabbed his tools and took off the two front upright supports of the frame. That was the moment we noticed someone had stamped part numbers onto the loom."Saaa-weet!" I exclaimed. "It's even easier to put back together than usual, because the parts are numbered. Look!"
"That's a good thing," Floyd said.

Third time's the charm, so they say, and it certainly was true for us. We got Li'l Lane situated in her spot and began putting her frame back together.

Then began the re-arranging of the Loom Room. I now had seven looms into a small space. "How can we make this work?" I wondered, determined TO make it work. After several configurations and "No, that's not right. No, I don't really like that arrangement either," I apologized to Floyd. "I'm sorry. We've re-arranged this several times. I know we'll find the right combo. Maybe if we move this here..."
"It's ok, I'm married to your mother. It's no worse than re-arranging the living room a thousand times." He said.

Finally, we got it set up so that the flow of room traffic was as unimpeded. as possible. It is crowded, but I've yet to work in a weaving studio where it wasn't. Most times, someone's back beam, nearly became my back rest. Two of the looms are a little smushed together in this picture, because I've been moving them around as I work on them.

Later that week, we took off Li'l Lane's aprons, and I disassembled the shafts. I greased up the heddle bars, and replaced her heddles. Using Murphy's Oil Soap, I lovingly washed away the basement grime from her previous home on all her wooden parts. Once dry, I polished the wood with Old English. I don't know why I like Old English, but it works like a charm on old looms.

Floyd and I did our usual stalking of the mega-monster-hardware-store for parts and pieces that would work to refurbish the loom: new rods for the apron, four bolts and washers and wing-nuts for the beater. We were struggling to find the right diameter of rope to replace on the pulley-system, and we weren't happy with the choices of foam rubber we found to put on the frame to keep the beater from bashing up the old wood. However, we did score in the slat-wall accessory department, and found some parts and pieces that will work really well for organizing all of the reeds and equipment. After all, I'd just taken up all the floor space with looms. Now I need to take up the wall space with the auxiliary weaving equipment.

Using some old-fashioned ingenuity, Floyd thought of flip-flops for the beater bumpers (say that ten times fast) and we decided I'd hit a dollar store later to pick up a pair. Cut up the flip flops into rectangles, and tack onto the frame, and voila! The perfect bumpers, at an affordable price. A few days later, I stopped at JoAnn Fabrics for new cloth to sew into aprons. for the cloth and warp beams. The only thing I have yet to obtain is waxed cord. I prefer it for the aprons over any other string. I found several jewelry beading online supply stores, but as I'm not a jeweler, I couldn't tell one diameter from the next. I guess I'll be leaning on Rebekah's expertise for that.

In the meantime, I've been working on the two Macombers we picked up from Bowling Green University in Ohio. I washed them down, and have been waiting to polish their wood, as I have had some repair to do first. Their aprons and shafts are off, heddle bars greased. My daughter has been sorting flat heddles to be put back on. I sanded down the back beam of the one loom, where the varnish was all but gone, and so far, put two coats of satin finish on to protect the wood. I would like to put at least two more coats on. It will never look 'new' but the rest of the loom still shows signs of use and I didn't want to completely refinish the beam and make it stand out. Maybe I'm a little crazy, but I prefer the markings on a well-loved, well-used loom.

L'il Lane, along with the two Macombers are still in pieces, waiting for their make-overs to be complete. Big Lane is in even more pieces waiting for her make-over to begin. And while I love working on a Macomber, something about this Li'l Lane speaks to me. I don't know if it's the aged wood, the size of her, or that by still existing, she speaks of a time and era that came before mine. All I know, is I'm attached to an inanimate object. And I can only hope she'll be a joy to use when all is said and done.

~Melanie

The Loomatics (rhymes with Lunatics) ride again

It was a hot, humid, yet glorious Tuesday, when Floyd, my son Joshua, and I went on the road with a trailer hitched to Floyd's truck. Stopping in Philadelphia to pick up Kathryn, we began our most recent loom collecting adventure. Sadly, the world is now bereft of Doris Boyd, a wonderful fiber artist, wife, mother, teacher, and long-time weaver. Her basement held all of her looms, equipment, and yarn, where, I imagine, all of the activity took place. The family, hoping to clear out the studio, had held a sale of her looms back in April. This day, they were giving away the rest, hoping looms would go to good homes. A member of the New Jersey Handweavers Guild had contacted Kathryn to donate a loom to the homeless project: a 24" Devereux loom. In turn, Kathryn informed us that there were other looms, wondered if we'd be interested. Interested? Did she really just ask me if I was interested. Ahem….

"Hi, I'm Melanie, and I'm a loom-aholic."

I never turn down the opportunity to acquire another loom (especially if the only cost is in mileage/gas/acquisition and repairs). And really, what’s a road trip without pulling Floyd, my appointed 'loomatic,' into the mix? Sooooo, Floyd and I put our heads together, figured out from whom we could borrow a trailer (Thanks Eric!) and made last-minute plans for a trip to Tabernacle, NJ. Since we set out so early, we decided to stop for breakfast close to our destination. After all, "loomaticing"(I just made that word up. No really, I did.) requires great quantities of ones reserve energies.

Around the table starting on the left: Kathryn, Floyd, Joshua, Melanie

After several cups of coffee, a couple of omelets, creamed chip beef, and a short stack of pancakes, our tummies were tanked up, and we were ready to go out into the world of loom foraging. We arrived at the Boyd home a few minutes early of their opening, but it wasn't long before more eager loom-atics showed up. Several looms were already put aside for others, however with great foraging prowess, we were able to acquire two Lane counter-balance looms: small and medium sized.

It took some creative disassembling on our part to carry the Lane looms out the door (good thing we had tanked up in advance). The Devereux was compact enough to keep in one piece. It took even more creativity to pack it all up into the back of Floyd's truck and the trailer, but we managed.

Arriving back in Philadelphia, we hit a snag when we tried to take the Devereux through Kathryn’s front door. Oooops…well this is why we always bring Floyd along. Ok. Turning the loom this way and that, and still there was just no way it would fit. Frustrating. We only needed a stingy little half of an inch, and the loom would have made it. We looked at whether or not we could get the screen door off. Maybe that would gain us more clearance. No? How about putting it through the window? Oh, fun. None of us relished that thought. OK…let’s take it apart. Floyd? Oh, my. Well that’s interesting. The Devereux seemed to have (aside from the beater) no nuts and bolts with which to take it apart! Hmmmm. We looked it over. We lifted and looked under. We bent down low and looked sideways. Humpf! “Well how about that!” We collected sighed. Who would have thought? A fine work of craftsmanship, in and of itself, the loom was constructed aesthetically so that the joins were practically seamless.

(Floyd taking off the beater...which actually did have bolts)

Not to be out-crafted, eventually, I noticed four wedges down at the bottom of the loom. The foot rest, and back support bar fit through slots on the frame sides, and then the wedges were positioned into slots, as if holding the bars onto the frame.

"Hey look at this!" I said "I wonder what would happen if we took those out." Floyd got out his tools, gently easing the wedges out of their slots. Amazingly enough, the entire loom is held together by those four wedges. A rather ingenious design, if I do say so myself.

Piece by piece, we got the Devereux into Kathryn's house, and into the front room.

"Do you think you can get that back together before you go?" Kathryn asked.
"Sure, No problem!" I said.
I began to reassemble the loom, and got a slight bit stymied when it came to putting the shafts back on. As sweat beaded on my brow, and my loom repair prowess was tested, not to mention my pride, I fiddled until I got it figured it out. I had never seen a counter balance loom quite like the Devereux, its pulley system quite different than what I'm familiar with. Not to mention, I've only touched a handful of counter-balance looms. Taking what I knew about the loom, how it should work, I managed to work out the solution. Now here's hoping when Kathryn warps it for the first time, it's correct. I could foresee a trip back to Philadelphia in the near future, if it's not.



Being pressed for time, we said our goodbyes, and piled back into the truck. We wandered around the maze of streets for a bit, as Kathryn's neighborhood was a little unfamiliar. The GPS wanted to take us around the block endlessly, but thankfully, Floyd has a good sense of direction. We still managed to beat the beginnings of Philadelphia rush-hour traffic.


Arriving back in Reading, we pulled up to the curb, put our flashers on, threw the cone out onto Washington street, and quickly unloaded the trailer. We were nearly completed when an officer pulled up behind us and asked if we had a permit.
"A what?" we asked
"A permit for loading and unloading on a thoroughfare. You need one for Washington Street."
"Oh we're sorry. We didn't know. We've been unloading stuff before and never had a problem. No one ever told us different," we said.
"Just make sure next time you have a permit," the cop said as he pulled away.

Stashing the looms quickly into the building, we head off for some quiet and some vacation time, the looms waiting for our return. Don’t tell Floyd, but I don’t think the one loom’s going to fit through the Loom Room door. It’ll be a surprise.

It's always an adventure when the loomatics go for a ride.

The Loomatics, Chapter 5, "Final Destination."

Morning arrived again, as it is wont to do, and much too early as usual. We decided to get off to a start an hour later than Friday, beginning our day at five am instead. Tanking up at a service station, I picked up a couple of egg Mc Muffins at the Mc D's and a couple of cups of coffee. We loaded up, and moved 'em on out looking ahead to our journey's end, some things looming, knowing we had at least another five hours on the road.

Crossing the border once more into Pennsylvania, I watched as the landscape turned back into the familiar rolling hills, heavy with forest. We passed through tunnels, over bridges, around corners and bends, making our pit stops here and there. I snoozed for an hour or two, catching up for sleep lost the night before. Floyd manned the steering wheel for the whole of the second day of our trip.

Eventually we pulled up to the building, another successful hunt under our belts. We unloaded the van, hauled the looms up a flight of stairs, down the hall to the Loom Room, and settled them, temporarily. After which, we concluded our odyssey by returning the van to its former glory: replacing seats, cleaning out trash, and eliminating evidence of the last sixteen plus hours.

We drove back to my house, where Floyd had left his truck. Swapping out vehicles, he waved good-bye to me and head straight back to some things looming to keep Rebekah company. Meanwhile, I, Melanie, the wimp, climbed the stairs to my attic bedroom, flopped face down on the bed and remained happily unconscious for the next six hours.

All in all, it was a fabulous trip. We were blessed with great weather and good road conditions. Now all I have to do is re-assemble two looms, grease up their mechanical parts, and test them out. I couldn't be more pleased.

Until our next adventure...

The Loomatics, Chapter 4, "Thwarting Traffic."

Floyd took out his phone to pull up the internet. I wondered if my GPS would help. About that moment, I realized I saw 'Free WiFi' posted on the door of McDonalds. I also recalled, that in a flash of brilliant foresight, that I had brought my laptop along with me.

"Hey, Mc D's has WiFi. I bet I could pull up the 'net on my laptop, we can get to Google Maps, and see if there's an alternate route. At the very least, we can see if we need an alternate route. Maybe if you get close enough to the building, I can get a signal." I said.

Floyd crept the van closer and closer to the building, but to no avail. "Looks like we'll have to go in," I said on a sigh. We found a table, pulled up the laptop, and after some fidgeting around with the computer, figured out how to log on. As usual, I was making it harder than necessary. I Googled Ohio Turnpike, discovered that they were still reporting a delay where we noticed the parking lot of cars. Floyd Google Mapped the location, and we noticed a road running parallel to the Turnpike.

"I think we can take this route, maybe put Tom Tom on just to be safe, and then by-pass this mess. They might be finished by then. I mean, the construction crew might be done by 3pm, I don't know..."

"Yeah," I said, "But they'd still have to pack up, and I bet there will still be backlash from the cars. I mean, it was backed up for miles," I said.

Having decided on a course of action, we piled back into the van, and headed back towards home. Success was ours that day, as we detoured ourselves through sleepy back Ohio roads, past farms and small towns, congratulating ourselves on our cleverness. We pulled back up onto the highway, and gradually made our way back to the border of Ohio and Pennsylvania. We passed a farm, and entertained ourselves with thoughts of sheep rustling, and how we'd explain to others why we had a couple of animals baaing and bleating strapped to our roof.

"They're uh, dogs. Big fluffy dogs. Big fluffy poodles. We trained them to make that noise. Much less annoying than barking," we said, imagining. Maybe it was the fatigue, but we thought ourselves comedians with this routine, and continued the dialogue as the gap between there and here closed in on itself.

Eventually, we stopped at our evening destination, a little hole in the wall motel where we planned to get a little rest before completing the trip back home. It lie just over the boundary that marks one state from the next. Its less than stellar accommodations were just another part of the adventure, I reminded myself, and the price is right. Bonus points for the lovely restaurant next door. Floyd and I both ordered the Friday night special, the "Black and Blue," a blackened spice rubbed filet with blue cheese crumble. Mmm.

We meandered back to our room, and settled in for the evening. I checked e-mail, read Facebook, surfed the 'net, and then settled in with my kindle book on my iPod before drifting off into dreamland. Like a projector abruptly unplugged, the lovely images floating through my mind were cut off by the loud noise of partiers reveling in their drunkenness.

"Hey! Hey Stan! DUDE! LOOK UP HERE!" I heard one person shout. The laughter and giggling, squealing and shrieking continued for about another hour or so. They just need to get a little more roasted and pass out, I thought to myself. When that happened, I knew I could slip back into blissful slumber. At least I hoped.

Next week. The Loomatics, Chapter 5. "Final Destination."

The Loomatics, Chapter 3, "Two crazy people, Two looms, One mini-van"

We pulled into Bowling Green State University and followed the map to the Fine Arts Building. I took out my cell phone, called my contact person, who gave us further directions to the pick-up location. Two gentlemen wheeled out both looms on dollies, while Floyd and I took everything out of the van. Checking over the looms, I ensured everything was there, and in decent shape.

We began to disassemble the loose parts, and setting them aside. Floyd worked his packing magic, and managed to cram two looms, a bench, shuttles, cones of yarn, plus our box of food, our water, and our overnight back packs into my minivan.



I signed the paperwork to indicate I had, indeed, collected two weaving looms, waved good-bye to the fellows who helped load the van, climbed aboard, and we took off in search of a gas station and a bathroom. We noticed a McDonalds across the way, and decided it would be a good place to stop, especially since there happened to be a gas station right next to it. On our way back to the van, we begin discussing the completely stopped traffic on the Turnpike.

"I really don't want to sit in that," Floyd said.
"Me either. Maybe we can find another way around it," I suggested.

Coming up...The Loomatics, Chapter 4. "Thwarting traffic."

The Loomatics, Chapter 2. "On the Road again..."

Driving to distant locations has become a bit of a habit of mine. The first loom was rather local, Quakertown. The next time, Floyd, my sister, Sara, and I drove to New York for another loom. Now, we were making plans to drive to Ohio. Having measured my van, we decided we didn't need to borrow a trailer. I packed a box with snacks, grabbed a couple of water bottles, and two gallons of water. Floyd took the seats out of my van, hooked up a turtle to the roof, and we were ready to go.

Unfortunately, four in the morning comes way too early. Equally unfortunate, not a lot in my sleeping little town is open, including the convenience stores. Our adventure began with the hunt for a cup of coffee, decent or otherwise. It really didn't matter. We needed to power up with some caffeine before we embarked on our journey. Thankfully, the search wasn't too long. After trying two different gas stations, we hit paydirt with the third. Pandora loaded up on my phone and plugged into the system, coffee cups in the cup holders, we hit the road.

The trip was rather uneventful. We drove while the sun peaked over the horizon, watched as it rose to full height, while trees, and towns slid past from mile to mile. Stopping for bathroom breaks only, we consumed breakfast and lunch on the road, chatted about everything and nothing, and counted down the hours til our destination.We did make one important discovery, however. There is a sore lack of service plazas between the end of the Pennsylvania Turnpike, and the start of the Ohio one. Our bladders near bursting, and the van beeping and begging for gas, the mile markers on the side of the road gained significance with each one we passed. While the lack of gas stations and bathrooms alarmed us, it wasn't enough of a deterrent from a photo opportunity.
Like pilgrims reaching their Mecca, we rejoiced when we pulled into the first Service station knowing the crisis was averted. It was with great relief we emptied our system of liquid buildup, and filled up on gas. Tanking ourselves with drinks and snacks, we pulled back out onto the highway, cruising to the sweet sounds of Motown floating through the van's stereo speakers. While driving the turnpike, we noticed the other side had been magically transformed from highway to parking lot.

"Oh boy," Floyd said. "We're going to have to see if we can find another route. I really don't want to be sitting in that when we head back."
"Yeah," I said in agreement.

Stay tuned for next week's installment: Loomatics, Chapter 3 "Two crazy people, Two Looms, One Mini-Van."

The Loomatics, Chapter 1...

Some women hunt for the perfect outfit complete with matching shoes. They scour the sale fliers, the Sunday paper inserts, receive the promotional emails, use their department store credit cards to take off that additional ten percent, all in the name of a great bargain. Me? Forget the clothes, I'm always on the hunt for a loom at a good price. So much so, sometimes I forget to notice where exactly, the loom is located.

About a month ago eBay informed me that my favorite brand of loom was available for bidding. Often, I watch the bidding on the looms that go up for sale, but I rarely, if ever, bid on one. Most of my used looms have been found through other online means, much less stressful means. When I saw three of the same looms up for auction at the same time, however, I "kind-of" lost my mind. I bid on all three of them. Then I noticed their location: Bowling Green, Ohio. I Googled Bowling Green, Ohio and discovered it was eight hours from Reading.

Oops.

I hope I win. I hope I lose one of them. What if I win all three? What if I only win one? I have to get at least two to make this worthwhile. I don't know if I can justify an eight-hour drive to Ohio for one loom. ACK! This internal dialogue continued for a full hour, as each auction was staggered by about fifteen minutes or so.

Winning on eBay is so bittersweet.

My first reaction is always "YES!" followed by a sick feeling in the stomach. Ugh. Pulse racing, I continued to watch the second and third auction, minutes ticking down, seconds, re-upping my highest amount. I had the fever, and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to stop myself. I decided my top bid amount, berated myself for not putting that in from the first, and kept watching. I lost the second loom. Flipping to the third auction, my adrenalin rush crashed, as I lost that auction as well, all within a couple of dollars too.

Great. Now I'm traveling to Ohio for one loom, I thought. Undaunted, I decided to contact the seller, Bowling Green State University, to see if they had other looms that would be coming up on eBay. The reply was positive, very positive. They were willing to sell me another, exact same loom, directly. Sadly, they were closing their Fiber Arts program down, and selling off all of the equipment. After weeks of back and forth emails, everything was set. I had my second loom. Now we just had to make the drive.

Read more next week... "On the road again...I can't wait to get on the road again..."

Hans und Franz go to New York

(names have been changed for protection)

It all started with a loom I found on an online fiber equipment page. We were on vacation last weekend when my mother and I trolled the 'net looking for looms for our studio. The ad looked good. We made contact. We negotiated a price. We picked a travel date. We drove to New York.

The seller indicated we'd need several people to move the loom. "It is heavy. Bring people who can haul," She wrote in her email. So I did. My father drove, and my sister tagged along. Or rather, I was the one tagging along, since I know what looms look like. I'm such a girl when it comes to hauling and lifting. I'm a weakling of the highest order. My sister, Sara, on the other hand is strong as an ox. Maybe that's not flattering for a female, but I have always been in awe of her superior strength. I knew we were ok.

We drove the three plus hours to New York, traveling through the town of Sleepy Hollow where there was a cool statue of the Headless Horseman. Along the way, my father and sister started joking around. "I am Hans," he said. "Und I am Franz," Sara replied. "Und we are hear to haul a loom." "Hey you. Girly-man...can't you lift that?" "Yah, Vee need to pahmp you ahp, you girly-man." They amused themselves in this manner for a good ten to fifteen minutes, laughing at themselves.

Arriving at the seller's house, she greeted us in the drive with her husband by her side. He might have passed for a shorter, weaker, thinner, Tony Shaloub. She showed us the loom on the second floor, and Dad and Sara began contemplating the best way to carry it down the stairs and out the door to the trailer.

"I dont want to sound sexist," Tony said. "But I guess I'll have to be the other man." Dad picked up on end, and Tony tried to grab the other. He grunted, and groaned and maybe, just maybe got the loom off the ground half a millimeter. Sara gently pushed him aside, hauled the loom up over her head to get it above the barrier at the top of the steps in one fell swoop. She bore the brunt of the weight walking backwards down the stairs, and with Dad's help, carted the loom out through the garage and proceeded to help load it up.

"Boy, Sara," Tony said. "You're strong. Really strong." She gave him a look like, uh, yeah. I know. You Girly-mahn.

We piled back into Dad's Explorer, waved good-bye, and broke out into laughter.

"I dont want to sound Sexist..." Sara said.

Melanie