Black, Black the Thread is Black. SPool story number 7

I grab a small, cheap, fake wood spool tangled with BLACK thread out of the center of the clear glass cookie jar.  The thread is black as night during an eclipse.  It is as black as a pupil in the center of an eye in the dark.  It is blacker than baa baa black sheep.  It is a deep, pure black with a richness to it that contrasts with the paucity of color in the spool.
The thread unwinds loosely on the desk.  It catches  the pen, the paper clips, spilling out  until I snatch it up and rewind it and set it back from the clutter.
As it once again tangles itself- this time in my paperwork- it brings Black Friday to mind.
Thanksgiving is coming  and I think to myself that just as Christmas tries to overshadow Thanksgiving, Black Friday tries to outpace both Christmas and turkey day.
The anticipation of  "the bargain"builds with each advertisement - even the darlings get caught up in the next new thing- while once upon a time as a youngster I was caught up in making pies with Grandma and tracing my hands on construction paper and coloring the outline to make it look like the celebratory bird.
I look at the line it makes meandering through my things and I think that like the black thread tangling without my consent, Black Friday tangles itself into a time that is all about family and friends,  food and fellowship.  I have never been a shopper but even I have a 9 AM  date Friday . to take advantage of a local shop with a great sale.
Today, as I chop and sautee, prepping with little ones clamoring about my feet, I have set the spool way back from the frenzy that is my desk space so it will sit quietly and I can enjoy this day of preparation.  I look forward to morning, to baking pies and filling the house with the smell of pumpkin and spice, onions and pepper while the wee ones play with legos and transformers handed down through two generations. I am excited to be joining my daughter and her family with the rest of my clan for a simple, yummy feast at a table full of love.
I will enjoy Friday, but not before I have relished Wednesday and cherished Thursday - and given thanks. Black Thread wait your turn.

Arrested By A Spool of Thread Spool Story Number 6

This daily writing process includes filling a container with 137 objects - I chose spools of thread - selecting one each day and at the end of the day moving the object to another container.  It is a symbolic "letting go" of the day - the good, the bad and the ugly - oh, and the joyous!!

I love this process and the ingenious leader - Patti Digh - but am never good at keeping up.

I started very late in the game this year and toddled along loving my spools, writing ditties  and enjoying it at day's end.

About two weeks ago I chose a spool and just carried it around with me day to day not letting go at all.  It is a unique spool - old -  really old - maybe a hundred years old or so. It is a rich brown spool of real wood, tall and slender - it would not fit on any of my modern machines - not even my Grandmother Maude's  I don't think. Around it is wrapped a regal purple thread. It feels like the color of Advent. The luster of the spool complementing the radiance of the thread. 

A week passed, then two, and it occurred to me that I was hanging on to it.  I didn't want to "let go" of this particular spool of thread. This spool with this  thread had captured me in a way I could not explain.  The thought popped into my head that I  was arrested by it and there fore  arrested in my writing process, in moving on.  I looked up "arrest"  

Definition of "arrest"

1 seize; capture

2 a :to bring to a stop b :check, slow c :to make inactive  

3 to catch suddenly and engagingly to arrest attention

Sure enough, this simple little household item had seized my affection. It was slowing me down and holding me captive. I don't know why.  I just know it is so.  I find it engaging, delightful. It holds my attention. I am rather enjoying it. 

I will let you know when I am ready to move on.  

   

Spool of Bright Red Thread. Spool Story Number 5

Blood red.
Fire Red
The red of anger - or a flag.
Sumac in Autumn Red

Rose Red
Carnation Red
The red of  the stop sign ahead.
Fire Engine Number 8 Red.

Old Spool
Brown Spool
Red wrapped around it spool.
Sitting on my desk Spool