PNewL PNewS 34.2: Bunch of Stuff

   

PNewL PNewS

Volume 34 Issue 2                         "All the pnews that phits.”                                      August 2026

 As the saying goes these days, it’s been a minute. I feel like some things have happened and I have some things to say. So here we go.

     I am going to start with a letter. I am in what I call The Death Group. We have each taken at least one class (I’ve taken one plus another one twice) that walks us through preparing to die—well, that’s not really true…they teach us about all that surrounds death—paperwork, getting stuff organized, important communications to have before it’s too late, health stuff, the people we might want to get or need to get involved, obituaries, what to do with the body (so many options!). In our monthly meetings, we talk about all sorts of things—writing letters to family, things to put in the NokBox* (website), interesting articles or perspectives we’ve learned recently, and you know, about summer vacations, good books, etc. It’s a friendly check-in. And occasionally people commit to accomplishing something by the next meeting.

     I have accomplished squat though I have opened some files recently that made me realize that I have work to do. Not even my will is a fait accompli. It’s written and notarized but it’s out of date—not badly. Like if I die tomorrow, I will not be horribly disappointed with what is written there (I will, after all, be dead) but it’s missing some key pieces. I looked at another document I created a few years back and I thought, I said that?!? Wow. Time to revise.

     In one meeting, people committed to writing letters to loved ones that will be stored in their NokBox until their death. One friend has 26 people on their list! I felt kinda pathetic—I don’t feel like I have anyone I need to/want to write. So I thought I would write one to you.

 

Dear Gentle Reader:

     Thank you for reading—some of you have been along for this ride since the beginning and I should have given you a bleeping medal by now. It has meant a lot to me to have people who read and especially to those who say something back. I appreciate you.

     To those who are family or as close as, thank you for getting me this far. (I may have to stop writing this now—I’m at the tire store and getting a little verklempt.) I’m not always (ever?) an easy person and have not always made the best decisions or ones that made sense to anyone other than me and yet, here we all are. I appreciate you being there, for sticking with me and for helping me when I have allowed you to. Thank you.

     I’d like to acknowledge my college friends as a kind of special subset of the “as close as family” group. How lucky were we? To meet each other at such a tender time and to stick together for all these years. And for the deepening I have felt as we age. I am so grateful to have landed in that funny place in Central California in the mid-70s. What a stroke of luck. I love you all so much.

     To all of you, I hope you know how much you have meant to me. I hope I have said it before now. I hope you are staying safe and sane in this bleeping crazy world in which we find ourselves at this time.

     Much love and appreciation, peggy

 

*I don’t have a NokBox—friends who have them are big fans--but I have a large binder and folders and digital files, including a list of where things are like keys, and accounts, and people who can help. For now, that works for me.

 

My Home Away from Home

     When I’m at home, I spend a lot of my time on Local Cloth, a non-profit in Asheville that works with fiber artists and fiber farmers to support and bolster the local fiber economy. We have a retail shop that is killing it. Some days, I worry. As co-chair of the Board. I wonder if there is an end to our success—is this still sympathy shopping (post-Hurricane Helene) or is this just because we are so darned talented? (the latter, obviously) I am so grateful for the opportunity and support this offers to our artists and to the organization. We also offer workshops in all kinds of fiber related skills, from bookmaking (paper is fiber…) to sewing, knitting, crocheting, weaving, spinning, dyeing (natural and …unnatural) and on and on. And we also have ongoing Interest Groups where people gather weekly to practice their chosen…interest, in community. It’s been lovely to watch these groups grow and mutate and encourage and support. Plus we have a few small workspaces for Resident Artists. And we have summer camps. All things fiber—yay us!

     We just held a reception for the annual Twelve-by-Twelve Exhibit with over 40 entries, the biggest one to date. Each piece must fit in a 12” by 12” space and must be made primarily of fiber. Many of the pieces are available via silent auction. Check em out! (Shameless request for support #1) https://localcloth.org/2026twelvebytwelvefibershow

     In September, we will hang the WaterLine project which will be dedicated on September 27^th, the 2^nd anniversary of the Flooding of Hurricane Helene. Our studio, which included a ton of fiber, was filled with almost 11 feet of water. Almost everything was lost or damaged. We are encouraging members of Local Cloth and of the community to participate by making 2x6 inch mini pieces of fiber art, which will be connected as a continuous line marking the height of the water in the Studio. Recently, we invited folks in for a Second Saturday in the River Arts District to make their own contribution. It was our best attended Make & Take ever…and most people left their pieces to be included in the project—we struck a nerve…in a good way. Even the local TV folks showed up!

     That’s all—no big conclusion, just thought I’d tell you how I spend my time…worrying about our little fiber world so I don’t go mad worrying about the bigger world. (The other big accomplishment of the summer was opening our endowment-fund-that-is-not-technically-an-endowment-fund. You can read more about it here.) Shameless request for support #2. (I didn’t start this as a pitch, but I am on the Finance & Fundraising committee…)

 

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• When I moved to Asheville, which was a random "I gotta get out of FL, I'll just go there" where I knew two parttime residents, I often found myself driving "home" thinking what am I doing here? for like eight years, (seriously) and then, because I am old, one day, I forgot to think that. And now I forget to wonder what I'm doing here because I am busy wondering how much longer I will be able to to do this and whether that's a long time or if it's not long enough, and what illness will take me down, not in a bad way – more like a realistic way.

• I am becoming more and more aware of the patterns of my travel planning. On my upcoming trip, I am going on part of it with another person. She is a planner. I am a procrastinator. I watch videos, read websites and guidebooks and get little accomplished. She was talking about packing for a September trip in June (it may have been May). As far as planning, the lucky part is that I travel off-season, so the pressure is not quite like it is in high season. For packing?  Maybe she is a good influence on me—I’m making packing lists!

     Once again with this trip, I’ve been dragging my heels and then it was time to make some plans. And I was messing around and discovered—there is a town in Sweden called Falkenberg, and it is charming and near where I was thinking I’d like to be and I had a friend named Charlie who died on September 11^th (25 years ago!) and his last name was Falkenberg, and for me, travel can be that random. And so, the rest of the trip fell into place around that.

     It just occurred to me, I could say: I am going to Sweden for a Craft Retreat! Tomorrow! My friend Paddy said she was going and I asked if I could go too. It is a bit of a mystery, this Retreat. For a while it looked like it wasn’t going to happen—the organizers seemed hesitant. Then Paddy and I thought we’d drop out. Then they said it was going to happen but because there was a small group, the crafts were going to be different—instead of eco printing and nuno felting, we are going to weave Sami pewter wire bracelets and learn Sami wool embroidery. (The Sami are the indigenous people of the Nordic countries.) That sounds way better to me and so off we toodle on…Tuesday (the best day for toodling). After the retreat, I will wander off on my own to the west coast of Sweden (Gothenburg and Bohuslän coast), then to see Deborah from college in Karlstad, and then to Stockholm. Yay!

• Being a grown up is a rollercoaster—there’s a little of the coasting part I was anticipating but then I get whipped around, up and down, and I wonder, wow, it just keeps happening! Here’s to it!

     Here’s an example:  For the last four years, I have been running a garage sale for fiber people. We have 45 vendors, 500 attendees, make a bucket of money for Local Cloth. All good until it wasn’t. Earlier this summer, I was on a Zoom call about the sale, and it became apparent I was no longer on the org chart. I only put it that way because back in the ‘90s, I heard that line when I was downsized out of a job I didn’t really like but it still didn’t feel good. This really didn’t feel good. After much sturm und drang, I realized it was a miscommunication I blame on trying to do too much virtually and not enough face to face. It all wound up working itself out but …yet another lesson learned.

• Add to the list of “Things I do so you don’t have to”: Trying blueberry HanJan, which turns out to be “a Korean fortified rice wine. Beautifully balanced, clean refreshing taste, enjoy this natural spirit on ice, chilled, or straight.” There is an Asian market in South Asheville that is one of my favorite stops when I am down there. I usually have a list of things I need to stock up on and then I allow myself a few “treats” or miscellaneous stuff I may or may not be able to identify—usually jarred sauces, noodles or fresh vegetables. This time, one of the items was HanJan. It was in what I thought was the sake section and by the way, I KNEW blueberry was a bad choice, but it was hot and I like blueberries and someone/thing ate all of mine this year. FYI: A) It’s rice wine. B) it’s unidentifiable, IMHO, as blueberry. C) It’s just sweet. D) Do not recommend.

• I am wandering around the house trying to decide what book to take with me on the upcoming adventure. I have so many books next to my bed I had to have a recent conversation with myself about which books I would realistically ever read and made a pile to go to the used book sale. I am safer from injuries from falling books now. (I just finished reading a collection of E.L. Konigsburg kids’ books. “From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler” is one of my favorite books ever and it came up in Iceland so I got this collection to re-read it. The collection includes “Jennifer, Hecate, Macbeth, William McKinley and me, Elizabeth” and “The View from Saturday.” They are both fine chapter books but the first is and will always be my favorite. Imagine running away to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, sleeping in the beds, bathing in the fountain and solving a mystery! One can dream.) I have a couple books to take along as well as 23 hours of audiobooks. I'm good.

Hej då!

 

 

PNewL PNewS 34.1: Iceland Part V

  

PNewL PNewS

 __________________________________

 Volume 34 Issue 1     “All the pnews that phits.”     Aiming at April—missed it by a day 2026

   

Editor’s Note: And so, a new year of the PNewS begins after two years of not much. I’d like to think things will change. Wouldn’t you? Like all around the world? Specifically with regards to the PNewS, I have some hope. Meanwhile, carry on and do good things whatever they might be.

     And let me add, I acknowledge that this is a bit longer than the average issue, but several lines are a report on the shipping of a package and then there’s all those Issues I haven’t written in the last two years—I have some making up to do--so stop reading when you’re done. Know that it’ll be here when you have nothing better to do.  

 

Iceland Part V

     I keep pretending I’ll write special issues about Iceland, and I get home and don’t so I’m going to get ahead of the procrastination. I am in Reykjavik after my fifth Iceland Writer’s Retreat (IWR). Tomorrow, I fly to the Faroe Islands. One can only fly to the Faroe Islands on certain days of the week and today isn’t one of them, so I had a lazy half-day in Reykjavik—the Retreat ended at noon—and I have been, yup, writing! Eek!

     This year’s lineup (lineup is one word?) of IWR teachers was a really good one for me. As I mentioned in the last issue, I am focused on how different our brains work so when I kept saying to regulars at the Retreat, don’t you think this was THE BEST EVER?? (or wasn’t that a hugely helpful workshop???) and they didn’t, I figured I need to say, for me in my current frame of mind with my current needs, this Retreat was super duper helpful and seemed to say some magical things I needed to hear with suggestions and support and..stuff. Yay.

     So here’s a little about before and during and after.

     I love to travel—I just typed I live to travel and I fixed it though it might be also true—but it isn’t always smooth and easy for me. I am a worrier at heart. Arriving this time, I was so tired and nervous about the rental car and the drive and the ferry and when was I going to sleep again. When I landed, I found an email from the ferry company saying that due to “sea levels,” the ferry would be taking off from a different port, somewhere I hadn’t been before and frankly had only a vague idea of location, and no map. Sleep deprived after an overnight flight, I stood in line for my rental car and wondered, while trying not to fall asleep, if I could get there in time for the departure.    

     As is often the case, it all worked out. I have a very busy fairy godmother/angel on my shoulder who takes good care of me. I knew how to get part of the way to the port and had a vague idea of the shape of the Icelandic word that identified the port so I felt mildly confident leaving the airport though it still amazes me that companies give automobiles to people who are exhausted and foreign.

     Upon arriving at Þorlákshöfn I pulled into the only open business I could find—their equivalent of a 7-11 gas station— and got directions to the ferry: “It’s behind this house here.” (I looked out the window and there was a warehouse—indeed, a sort of house…)

     I checked in at the ferry office and found I was waitlisted since they were running fewer ferries. I had a lot of questions, like what was I supposed to do if I couldn’t get on, but the person at the desk didn’t seem interested in a lot of chit-chat. The ferry was supposed to depart at 10:45 and it was 11 and the ferry had just arrived and hadn’t started disembarking arriving cars.

     To make a long story short, I made the ferry—I was the third to last one on and it felt like my car was kinda clinging to the stern of the boat. (On the way back, I was the last one admitted to the top level of cars and was at a steep angle which worried me because I am a worrier, but when I came to get my car at the end of the ride, it had flattened out. I was apparently on a moveable ramp!)

     By the way, I was taking this ferry to the beautiful Vestmanaejyar, a group of islands off the southern coast of Iceland. It’s a 45-minute ride but because of the aforementioned sea level issue, it was four hours. That chewed at both ends of my trip as I was only there a few days. I returned to the islands this year because last year when I went, everything was closed for yup…Easter. Who knew?

     The highlight this year was a visit to the Volcano Remembrance Museum, which has detailed coverage of the volcanic eruption in 1973 that caused the entire population to evacuate (no casualties) and amazing photos of the fire and ash, and the months of clean up and the stories of where the people went.

     Upstairs, they cover the evolution of the island Surtsey which is the newest of the islands in the archipelago. It sprang up out of the water on an ordinary day in 1963—there was suddenly land where before it was unbroken water and they’ve left it to evolve on its own, without human intervention, while we observe from afar and hope for the best. Only scientists can visit. I find this fascinating.

     Getting from the islands to the “mainland,” was uneventful and less worrisome and I had a lovely drive back to Reykjavik, with a brief stop to hoard buy yarn and for a pricey lunch (this is, after all, Iceland.) The Retreat, as I mentioned, was inspiring. My time in Reykjavik was comforting and comfortable. The weather and food were lovely. And then the next adventure began.

     The flight from KEF (Keflavik, where Iceland’s international airport resides)-FAE (Faroe Islands airport is on Vagar, the first island of size that you come to from the west—it may be the only spot they could put an airport. There’s not a lot of wide-open space there) is 90 minutes. I was on a prop plane. For 30 minutes, we were over Iceland (and remarkably, it was clear so following the southern coast of Iceland was fun).

     Coming through the clouds into the Faroe Islands was the big reveal: We are not in Kansas, Toto. I took a video. It was amazing. Massive cliffs ring much of the islands. Waterfalls everywhere. It’s like Iceland with grass. The scope of the vistas reminded me of Alaska—and these are tiny islands. Distances are itty bitty but it looks huge. I would get up in the morning and look at my plan and realize my destination was 45 minutes away. I was going to have to beef up my itinerary.

     One of the descriptors of the Faroes is that there are more sheep than people (55,000 people, 70,000 sheep). Here, the sheep live out in the wild. One of my proudest accomplishments? I did not hit any sheep but wow, they are bold. They are wandering around in towns. Missed getting a picture of one standing on a street corner. They sleep in the road because the asphalt is warm. It’s a real thing. Oh and it was lambing season so there were babies everywhere. I was smitten.

     I spent a week wandering around, hiking, taking a knitting class, hiking some more, taking a lot of pictures of sheep, driving through tunnels that run through mountains and under water and eating really good food. The tunnels took some getting used to. There is a “new” tunnel (2020) that runs over 11 kilometers under water and has a roundabout which is apparently beautifully adorned with art. I did not go through that tunnel because, frankly, it scared me. When I read it took 15 minutes to drive through, I figured there were other ways to spend my time, breathing fresh air and looking at sheep in the real world. (They are building a really new tunnel that will be longer and more terrifying but the goal in this tiny country is to make the “mainland”—the island where the capitol is—accessible to as many people as they can. I salute them on this, but I’ll find another way, thank you very much.) I did get to a point—after two eight tunnel days in a row—that I lost count of how many tunnels I went through, which I believe is progress.

     It is a lovely place to visit. Getting around is easy. The people are pretty straight forward and friendly. The fish is so fresh. The scenery is stunning. And they call themselves The Wool Islands. What’s not to like? 

 PS As I was finishing this up, I looked at some photos from my trip and was reminded of all the things I forgot to say--each and every town had the most gorgeous football/futball/soccer stadium, meticulously maintained, oh and at the bottom of the under water tunnels, there was a pretty blue light display so you knew from there on you were heading back up...there are undoubtedly other things, but those seemed worth including.

 

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• Spring Cleaning: It’s a thing! Who knew?! I was reading the NY Times, and they had all sorts of suggestions—how to clean a shower head, dealing with clutter blah blah blah. I mean really—does anyone clean a shower head every six months? They showed a picture of a showerhead that had languished for EIGHT months without cleaning. It’s amazing those people can hold their heads up—they should be ashamed. I confess I hit the bottom of my bathroom faucet with a tissue (by accident) and it came back…well, not clean. Huh, I thought, so I did a little scrubbing. When I was at the hardware store, I noticed that they sell aerator replacements and we are supposed to replace them, well, more than every 18 years! Again, who knew?

• Why does everything feel like an eye chart these days. My phone, my computer, the back of every box and jar and bottle whose ingredients I might want to read. What’s the smallest line you can read? Well, none of those I can tell you!

• I think I have developed Princess and the Pea feet—not that my feet prove I am royalty (at this point they look like they belong to one of the wicked stepsisters, but alas, I am mixing my fairy tales) but they have become incredibly sensitive to everything. What were once work horses are now delicate and awkward. Another chapter in the Aging is Fun Saga.

• I have heard from a lot of knitters that they are perfectionists. A burden they must bear. That is not my problem. I am all about “good enough.”

• I was reading something by a person who had experienced a significant loss/emotional upheaval and she said it was hard for her to have people say, what can I do and more helpful when people said, I'm going to the grocery store, I'll get you some supplies or I'm going to the park, wanna take a walk and this made so much sense. When things are already hard, the burden of having to come up with something for someone else to do, even when it’s an offer of help, is not helpful. (If this is a duplicate, apologies—consider it a friendly reminder.)

• I booked a ticket on the ferry to Vestmannaeyjar. When I put in my birthdate, it said something like this date does not apply to this category of person—not exact wording but it was equally awkward and took a second to figure out what they meant. Turns out they had senior discounts, so I had to start over, but I found it oddly exciting to get a deal in the land of high prices.

• It’s a funny thing about the way I do tax prep. Perhaps it has something to do with my authority figure issues but there are days of angst before I even get started then I pull out the papers and sort, then I go through the document my CPA provides and start filling it out. I am screaming through it, sticky notes and cross referencing and scanning using my antiquated muti-step process* and I am panicking and it’s awful and then there’s this kind of quiet, and suddenly, surprisingly, I’ve done my part. It’s over—not with a bang but a whimper. It happens this way every year.

• My antiquated muti-step scanning process: Several years ago, Ernie gave me an old printer. It’s an old reliable and I like it. It doesn’t speak to my new laptop, but it will speak to two laptops ago. (My last laptop had multiple organ failure and doesn’t speak to anything anymore though it is still in my house with a bunch of other old technology.) I scan to my old laptop and email the files to my new laptop or put them in the cloud—for some reason I am inconsistent in whether I email or transfer to the cloud. I can’t remember why. I just got bored writing this as I do when I am doing this, so that’s enough.

• I am old school. I like cash and checks. I like snail mail—I try to support the USPS, sending cards and letters when I can, buying stamps, shipping the most ridiculous stuff around the country for ridiculous amounts of money.    

     Recently they have disappointed me. The last package I received took seven days to get from Athens GA to Weaverville NC. (It’s approximately three hours away by car and 58 hours if on foot.) When I finally got it, all that was left of the label was the barcode and it had been opened—perhaps by machine. The contents were intact, and an apologetic oft copied note was inside saying (and I paraphrase), we do our best but occasionally sh*t happens.

     The following is the history of another package’s journey from Anaheim to my house. I am doing this because, well, hopefully, no one is printing this out. I am fascinated how close it got in two days and then left the area for another four. I decided to post it at the end because it’s distracting and possibly only interesting to me. **

• As a follow-up to the above, I blame Amazon for making us feel like we had the right to receive whatever we want as fast as possible. I no longer expect that, but it makes me a little sad for the USPS.

• When I researched renting a car on the Faroe Islands, folks online recommended renting from a local company. That felt good to me, so I did. And I chose the “used car” option because it was cheaper and their description about how expensive it was to get cars to the islands made sense. My car is 10 years old and reliable—how bad could it be? I got a Skoda (Czech) Scala. It felt solid and looked great. One of my favorite parts was that on the few scratches and dings there were little stickers that said “Reported Damage.” Clever! All was fine until I was driving back from a lovely hike to the top of a cliff. The car started losing power going uphill, and many little lights came on on the dashboard. I got ahold of the rental co. They told me to bring it to the shop which was in the next town ‘near the little boats’ And I found them with that description--GPS couldn’t find them, but I did! They tested the car and gave me a new one. There’s a post it on the dash of the new one that says, “Just ignore the sensor light.” I did and all was fine.

• Packs of young men are the same around the world—they usually smell of cigarettes, they are teasing each other, and make more noise than they need to. Small children are also similar everywhere—they like to throw rocks in the water.

• At IWR, there was a panel of Icelandic writers which I really enjoyed. They talked about their experiences—one was from Switzerland but has lived in Iceland for 20 years, one wrote children’s books, and one was an academic whose family was from Norway, I think. They talked about becoming writers, the challenges of being writers in a country where everyone is a writer, and they talked about language. Not like words, but the language that they write in. The Swiss guy said that despite being fluent in Icelandic, he could never write a book in that language, he had to write in German. The others agreed that they wrote in only one language—their native one. Huh! Afterwards, I talked to the moderator of the panel who is an American (I think…or maybe Canadian?) living in Iceland for decades as a translator and said, finding a translator from German to Icelandic must be a challenge and he said, most translations go to English first and then to the next language. He agreed something could be “lost in translation” but interestingly, the Swiss guy said he thought sometimes the Icelandic version was better written than what he wrote in German!

• I took a workshop with Jesse Thistle, a Metis-Cree writer and academic living in Toronto Canada. He told us about his life but it wasn’t just about him—it was about his people. His story was the story of him but also about all of them. That would not happen in white America. I liked it. Then I go to the Faroe Islands and hang out with Susanna who teaches knitting in her shop in Kvivik, a small town on the island of Streymoy. She was telling me about her life but it was all firmly planted in the Faraoese culture—it wasn’t a “and then I did this” kinda story, it was a story of her people and their culture and how they reacted to things and moved along in the world and where she fit in. I’m sorry we have lost this connection.

 

_____________________________________

 

 

“Take care of yourself and remember that taking care of something else is an important part of taking care of yourself, because you are interwoven with the ten trillion things in this single garment of destiny that has been stained and torn but is still being woven and mended and washed." Rebecca Solnit

_____________________________________

 

** Scan History of a package that bobbed around in the USPS system for several days. Start from the bottom.

 

TODAY Expected Delivery between 9:15am and 1:15pm

Feb 17 6:10 am Out for Delivery, Expected Delivery Between 9:15am and 1:15pm  

Feb 16 4:51 pm Arrived at Hub WEAVERVILLE,NC 28787

Feb 16 6:27 am Arrived at USPS Facility WEAVERVILLE,NC 28787

Feb 16 4:06 am Departed USPS Facility ASHEVILLE,NC 28810

Feb 16 4:06 am Arrived at USPS Facility ASHEVILLE,NC 28810

Feb 16 2:37 am Departed USPS Regional Facility GREENVILLE SC DISTRIBUTION

Feb 15 10:26 pm Arrived at USPS Regional Destination Facility GREENVILLE SC DIST

Feb 15 3:47 pm Arrived at USPS Regional Destination Facility CHARLOTTE NC DIST

Feb 14 5:54 am Arrived at USPS Facility WEAVERVILLE,NC 28787

Feb 14 5:37 am Processing at USPS Facility BELTON,SC 29627

Feb 13 11:20 pm Arrived at USPS Facility ASHEVILLE,NC 28810

Feb 13 11:20 pm Departed USPS Facility ASHEVILLE,NC 28810

Feb 13 6:22 am Arrived at USPS Regional Destination Facility GREENVILLE SC DIST

Feb 12 4:36 am Arrived at USPS Facility MISSION VIEJO,CA 92690

Feb 12 3:58 am Departed USPS Regional Facility SANTA ANA CA DISTRIBUTION CENTER

Feb 12 3:03 am Arrived at USPS Regional Facility SANTA ANA CA DIST CENTER

Feb 12 2:35 am Departed USPS Regional Facility ANAHEIM CA DISTRIBUTION CENTER

Feb 12 1:23 am In Transit to Next Facility

Feb 11 9:44 pm Arrived at USPS Regional Origin Facility ANAHEIM CA DIST CENTER

Feb 118:29 pm Accepted at USPS Origin Facility ANAHEIM,CA 92806

Feb 11 2:18 pm Shipping Label Created, USPS Awaiting Item, ANAHEIM,CA 92806

 

 

 

 

PNewL PNewS 33.2 ...finally

 

PNewL PNewS

Volume 33 Issue 2     “All the pnews that phits.”    December 2025

 Surprise…I’m back! Pardon my absence…busy-ness continued and I lost focus on my own life. For a reason not totally clear to me, not too long ago, it returned and I feel like myself again. Still working on those boundaries! 2025--I don’t know a lot of people who’d say they’d like to do this year again. Looking at you 2026 for some improvement. Hopeful. Here’s a look back from my perspective.

A Downside of Aging?

      Life has been feeling pretty fragile this year. In May, we lost two first cousins…from the same family—Nathan, in his early 50s, died suddenly when his heart stopped and his mother Val, in her late 70s, took a major fall and did not recover from her injuries. Shocking, both of them. Significant holes in the tapestry. This summer, cousin Larry was hit by Lyme disease and had to recover several thousand miles from home. Later in the summer, cousin Pouce died in the Arizona desert—a freaking tragedy. Meanwhile, brother David fell out of his pick-up truck while recycling (no good deed goes unpunished…who came up with that saying??). He had a shoulder replacement which then had to be replaced due to an infection. And then this fall, Patsy had an infection in her newly replaced hip and that led to a nightmarish series of days in the ICU/hospital/rehab facility. Then Natasha left us after a valiant fight against cancer. Thankfully Patsy and David are both healing and I am just going to tempt fate and say, the worst of those are behind us.

     Seems the longer this sits on my desktop, the more I should add to it but…you get the picture. And I am sure many are you are feeling the same onslaught of tragedy. The human condition I know—the more people we know, the more people we lose.

     “You never know what’s around the corner,” I was reminded while watching television recently. Indeed. I think this is just the beginning and it feels like a lot.

 

Travel Updates

     On this year’s road trip to Osawa (Georgian Bay Ontario), I managed to drive a bazillion miles in a relatively short period of time. I went via Wisconsin and Minnesota and around the top of Lake Superior because I have been meaning to do that for a very long time. It was worth it and I need to go back soon—matter of fact, I’ve been threatening to move to Duluth. As I drove through, with the lake on my right, I was blown away and probably a wee bit dangerous as I kept needing to keep an eye on it. For me, large bodies of fresh water are magic. I grew up there. And this is a honking big body of fresh water. When I crossed into Canada (no waiting!), the Canadian border dude asked all the usual questions and then he said, why’d you come this way? And I said I’d always wanted to see it and he said, what do you think so far? I said it’s gorgeous and he said, yeah, it is. (Pro tip: Keep your gas tank full on this road. There are a few stretches where gas stations are not close to each other.) (Fun fact: If I moved to Duluth and drove to Osawa/Pointe au Baril over the top of Lake Superior, it would take longer than driving from Western North Carolina!) In addition to some days on Osawa and visits with David and his family, I got a visit in with Sydney in Indianapolis, Gary and Deb outside Thunder Bay and Cathy in the woods of Pennsylvania, and stayed in some pretty great campgrounds. Great trip—next time I will do it slower…with more stops. (Not something I am very good at…)

     I also went to Ireland—for a good while. It was a solid Good Trip. I did not fall in love with Ireland which surprised me, and I still haven't decided why not. It was lovely, the people are super nice and friendly, some of the country is wild which I like, food was good (practically no vegetables though), lots of yarn and wool and sheep. All good, but not like I need to run right back. That’s okay—I have enough of those places.

     Bill, Denis and I rented a houseboat on the River Shannon which connects two large lakes, Loughs Derg and Ree. There were some locks to go through and some bridges to go under and plenty of dockings to add a bit of excitement--Bill was a masterful captain of our vessel--but there was also some delightful bobbing along in the best weather Ireland has seen in ages. When walking through towns, people would call out hello and always…always …add something about the beautiful day. We added on some days in the wild west near Connemara National Park in weather the country is better known for. Then they dropped me in Dublin, and I connected with a group of knitters for a tour around the country. We knit and ate and shopped and learned and saw and ate and shopped. Unbeknownst to me, the trip was sponsored by a knitting shop in Duluth MN! So now, when I go to visit, I’ll have some familiar faces to meet up with!

 

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• I have been struck recently by the difference in the ways people’s brains work. We are so different. And for me that is a wonderful thing and sometimes a wee bit confusing. I work with a group of people and it wouldn’t work as well if not for our different brains, filling in the spaces between us. But I do have moments of “Huh?” until I realize…we’re just different…in a good way.

• While I still wonder why I am reading a book, who recommended it, now I get to wonder who recommended a podcast or a substack that lands in my mailbox.

• I sometimes indulge myself when I get involved with something late in the evening and am so engaged and find it going way past midnight, knowing that Buster will get up at dawn no matter what time I go to bed. It’s not a perfect indulgence but it does have an odd feeling of decadence despite the end results.

• We had a brood of the 17-year cicadas this past summer. It was an assault on the senses. The noise, the chewed tree branches that hang brown and limp (including on the blueberry bushes…very sad.) Buster enjoyed eating them--counted 16 on one morning walk. Apparently they make some dogs sick but Buster is thriving. The bears have enjoyed them too I hear. I do not miss the sound—they worked banker’s hours it seemed…much shorter than sunrise to set, but plenty. I will not miss them—and I’m figuring it’s my last brood!

• I went to the grocery store one evening. The place was deserted. “American Pie” came on the muzak. That song is more than eight minutes and is a favorite. It took up a good chunk of my time there and was a bit of a lift. I have to take that when I can in these dark days.

• I bought a new refrigerator. When I worried that the motor in the old one sounded like a plane coming in for a landing and all of my food might be ruined, Lisa suggested my worries were storm-related. She might be right. Eighteen days without power does that to a gal. So I got a new fridge without my usual dithering (as you may have guessed, I am a ditherer) and as I was putting old things into the new fridge, I did so with a discerning eye (I am generally not discerning—you may know that about me too). I found two jars with a “sell by date” of 2013. I think that’s impressive. Most of the jars of condiments or ingredients only had a tablespoon or two which made me feel a little less bad. All in all, I removed TWENTY-TWO jars from the inventory in the new fridge. Recycling was heavy that cycle.

• Mouse in the House update: with regards to aforementioned rice that had been rehomed by a mouse: I was preparing for an event making ornaments out of felt and found a cache of rice in with the felt which BTW was not only at the other end of the house but on the top shelf of the closet. I also discovered chewing on the inside of my suitcase which also lives down the hall and on a different top shelf. And did I mention the nest in with my welding supplies? They were busy this year!

• Cathy invited me to her writing group’s Zoom. The presenter, a friend of the members, had a system that worked for her: she writes 125 words a day and at the end of the year winds up with a bunch of words strung together which, added to the words she’d already strung together, made up a book! I appreciated her optimism--a nice concept…but not one that spoke to my issue.

     I have been on the never-ending quest to compile 32…now 33 years of the PNewS into something that someone (me?) might enjoy. It is my excuse for four years of the Iceland Writer’s Retreat. (Now five because I just signed up again…) It did make me think that I could start taking itty bitty bites into the 140+ issues (because I haven’t even counted how many there are) and try yet again to figure out some sort of organization to all of these bits as I have tried many times before. Now, the box of paper files related to all those years has migrated to the living room—that move was inspired by the 125-words-a-day presentation and there it has sat ever since. Over the summer, I turned on the overhead fan (it was 77 degrees in the LR and it was officially time) and a piece of paper floated off the top of the box. I read the issue—one from my first summer in WNC. I liked it. Maybe I will be inspired…(but I wasn’t as I edit this four months later. Sigh.)

• I just re-read this for typos and confusing sentences (I probably missed some of both but I’m finally ready to send this off), and Word offered that if I changed a phrase it would be “more concise and less confusing to the reader.” What fun is that???

 

Happy Merry Hohoho and here’s to good things and a wee bit more peace and sanity in 2026.

 

“Change was already happening and here was its cousin, mortality…not so much knocking on my door as kicking it down like some particularly brutal extrajudicial force.” Katherine May, Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times

“This toxic patriarchal energy that we are experiencing right now is coming to an end. And what you’re seeing is that energy, clinging and clawing for survival ‘cause it knows it’s dying. And we’re heading for something very beautiful, but we have to go through some dark shit to get there.” Sturgill Simpson

“(Re)planting a forest, one tree at a time.” Jeff Curtis

 

 

 

PNewL PNewS 33.1: Moving on...sort of

 

PNewL PNewS

           Volume 33 Issue 1     “All the pnews that phits.”    April already…or...May 2025

 

Moving on…Sort of

Dearest Readers:

     Other than during the 386-day World Tour (which started exactly 30 years ago!) during which I didn’t write the PNewS, this is the longest I have gone between issues. I have written stuff and then it sat on my desktop and it needed so much editing because new stuff had happened and I was behind and I couldn’t face it. I thought, I could delete it all (but it’s a record of where I was then and it felt too hard to throw it away). Then I wondered if people could read two disaster-related issues in a row and I wondered…oh lots of things. Then I thought I could just post it without telling anyone and I could say, in the real PNewS, [here] that there is this blathering post on the blog that is meh but was important to me so it needed to stay but it was once again too messy and two too messy issues in a row made me feel not quite myself.

     So here I am and so are you.

     Disasters are messy and take a lot of time and some day we will all have up close and personal experience with disasters and we will share our stories as one does and the whole world will feel messier but a little better from the sharing.

            love, peggy

PS Frankly, the whole world feels pretty messy so we can all feel like honorary members of a club we never wanted to join. Come along, tell your stories, see the beauty, hold onto those you love or maybe just like a lot, and pet the puppies.

 

Post-Storm Updates

(Note: I have decided to post the longer post-storm piece separately at https://pnewlpnews.blogspot.com/)

      It takes more than a village to pull Western North Carolina back together. In the early days after the Storm, the power people from Indiana came to bring us electricity, then Michiganders brought back the Internet.* A hearty crew from Kentucky rebuilt the road. And hopefully, lastly, some remarkable folks from Wisconsin took away the downed brush and trees. And that was just our neighborhood. I’ve heard from friends in other parts of the region tell similar stories. Kinda warms my heart. I know it’s their jobs and they go where they are sent and where the work is but some of it was in nasty weather and tough conditions and I will always be grateful. (One of the guys from Wisconsin said he’d been away from home since October…)

     *Spectrum who provides internet to a lot of people up my road ran a generator for almost six months to power the folks up top. There was a guy (maybe a bunch of guys) whose job it was to fill the generator with gas several times a day. When I came home from the airport at midnight in the middle of a snowstorm, one of those guys was coming down from filling up the generator. Last I heard, there were still 20 or so generators running around the county. Buster and I used to walk up the road to check on the generator and then, boom, one day it was gone. Progress.

     I met with the Debris Removal Assessors. They documented the downed trees on our properties (mine and my neighbors)—it was pretty cool. They had mapping software that showed them exactly where things were on our property. Then we waited.

     The text came one day—they’d be here soon. And as I was driving off to yet another Big Fiber Giveaway, the trucks arrived. Let me say, I am very grateful. They say we (maybe my neighbors and my property together?) would have had to pay about $100,000 for the work they did. (Thank you, tax payers!) It’s also one more level of loss. Each stage of removal has exposed more of what is lost. There is still a tree behind my house that I told them to leave. I’ll hire people with smaller machinery. I can’t have tanks driving over everything and dragging massive gouges into my yard. I’m done. As I said, I am thankful for what folks have done but I need some time to adjust to this next step.

     Being in CA in January, following the Southern CA fires was humbling. Our storm hit a region but it's mostly rural. LA? A massive urban area? Hard to imagine.

 

Getting Away Part I

     Speaking of being in California (and not disaster related!), I went to Northern California in January to make stuff (and visit) with old friends. In the past, Sue Ellen and Mary Beth had talked of their times in the studio, dyeing wool and threads and making stuff. I said, I want to do that! I suggested that a group of us get together to make stuff together. It was a blast and so comforting. I invited myself to Sue Ellen and David’s house (not realizing that five days is a kinda long time to impose...). Sue Ellen is a wonderful cook and has a very cool studio. There were many of us crafting and hanging out and it was a great way to start a challenging year. Plus! Judy, a friend and owner of a good dog, Sue Ellen’s sister and neighbor is a docent at the tide pools off Bodega so we had an expert showing us the sea. My dear friend Sara consented to be my chauffeur and I believe a good time was had by all. Thank yous all around.

 

Getting Away Part II

     Today, I find myself in Reykjavik…again…and I feel, not for the last time. I keep trying to figure out what about it is so appealing. Maybe now, the familiarity? Beyond the city, there is the space and wildness, remarkable vistas, hot water and wonderful food. I was in a workshop the other day where the instructor, a local, talked about the harsh environment over the last several thousand years. Yeah, that is not appealing. I like me some creature comforts.

     My excuse for coming to Iceland is the Iceland Writer’s Retreat (and look! I am finally writing!) and I stay to wander around. This year, I was a little crunched for time so I headed to Vestmannaeyjar, a group of islands off the southern coast. It was Easter Sunday and Monday and despite being a pretty secular country (according to people I talked to), they go all in for Easter. It lasts five days. Nothing was open except a brew pub and a falafel place. But the weather and the scenery were gorgeous, the food and beverage tasty, and I wandered a bit. I also got to hang out with a natural dyer of wool—she uses local flowers, roots and lichen plus a few imported bugs, and plants. AND I got another tattoo in a warm and cozy studio in Reykjavik.

     I thought this might be my last visit but I do believe I need to come back and do my “Best of” (according to me) Tour…and of course, attend IWR.

 

Getting Away Part III

     Okay, so this was kind of an extravagant adventure, but I flew from KEF to SEA to PDX. I had a meeting I attend that was being held outside of Portland where Peter lives so I took the opportunity to hang out with him and Martha who came in for the meeting and the visit. We had a lovely time and the meeting was, as always, inspiring in this moment (a comment that is getting tedious to this brain). BUT I have to tell you about a very cool thing: the flight from Reykjavik (KEF) to Seattle (SEA) is off the charts cool! Highly recommend. I had a window seat because I always sit there in case of views and because I have to fly the plane from there. It was stunning. We flew across the middle of Greenland which was overcast for much of it but was also pretty snowy when visible. Then across the water between Greenland and Canada which was very icy looking, perhaps iceberg-y, then just north of Hudson Bay which felt like a bucket list item. How cool to see the edges of Hudson Bay!!! And then Nunavut and Northern Territories down through Saskatchewan, Alberta and British Columbia, over the Canadian Rockies into Washington. To my surprise, I can’t tell you how thrilling it was. Oh, and!!! The flight from KEF to SEA is 7 hours 10 minutes while the flight from KEF to RDU is around 6. Huh? The roundness of the Earth and how you tackle it makes a difference…

 

Things I am Learning

& Miscellaneous Observations

• I took a politically correct/protest week off of social media and noticed some interesting reactions. I have a knee jerk to click on Instagram without thinking… consistently. Not so with Facebook. I found I questioned whether I needed to take as many pictures as I usually do. I know a lot of small businesses I follow are getting off Instagram, where I found them in the first place, and I wonder how they will drum up business. Interesting time in popular culture.

• I started getting my hair cut at one of those storefront chains. The haircut is ridiculously cheap and not necessarily a bad haircut. I have noticed it could be a good haircut but not what I asked for. Lesson learned.

• The Buster Report: 11 mini bars of fancy chocolate, a stick of butter, my meds, a bag of dried mango, the packaging of David’s birthday present—all gone, not on the same day.

• It’s “Mouse in the House” season! Several years ago, I had a mouse that moved dried pasta—fusilli—from the pantry to an eyeglass case in a drawer across the room. I think that same year, there was a mouse nest in a different drawer in my sewing room which is across the house. This year, the mice got into the rice (and the almond flour but that doesn’t travel easily). So far, I found A LOT of rice in one of my knitting bags—I’d say ¼ cup, and then scattered grains in a basket full of mini skeins of yarn. I’m thinking there might be more relocated rice—I just haven’t found it yet. The thing that I find remarkable is the amount of poop I have found. Obviously, they—there were a total of five…my personal worst—were hearty poopers. It’s everywhere and in large quantities in the pantry! (Turns out Buster is an effective mouser…He found one in a water bottle and it was dispensed with.)

• Did you know that no American Indian language has a word for "religion"? (I'm taking a class on Native Americans or American Indians--still a little confused on what the right term is—but it’s been a really great class!)

• I am finding, even four months after the Storm that when I see people for the first time, the conversation always needs to include our Storm stories. (Sorry/not sorry to conclude with a Storm comment.)

 

"I know you are anxious. I know you are wondering where all of this will go. I know you feel you are on a ride you cannot stop. Many of us feel that way. It is the natural reaction to chaos and chaos is the unexpected happening over and over. While we may not be able to stop it, we can keep our own equilibrium. We do that by focusing on one another: hold on to me, as I hold on to you, as together we hold on to Spirit."

 

and..

"Speak, leaders of every nation, leaders of every faith, speak, let the world hear your voice, speak, against the violence and the greed, against the bullying and the power grab, speak, let your voice call others to freedom, speak, so that silence will not bury us in the shadows of history, speak and speak now, before the time for speaking is past."

-Indigenous (Choctaw) elder and retired Episcopal bishop Steven Charleston (two of his recent daily meditations)