BEST QUOTE OF THE DAY:

Courtesty of Dooce:

Why aim for perfection when approximation is so much easier?

I love that. I think that's my life's motto. I've never thought I could even come close to perfection. The closest I ever considered I made it was with my baskets. I made some really beautiful ones. I have a talent for basketweaving and had a thriving business in the early 90's. Long story about that--attempt to have me do that full-time, etc. Of course it never worked out because I knew, even if J. wouldn't admit it, that we couldn't live without my librarian's salary and health insurance. But I digress. I love the process of making baskets, the emergence of something complex and totally different from what you start with. Most people can't figure out how baskets are made. Like putting together a Turkish puzzle ring. My siblings and I were adept at doing that from the age of 4, having lived in Turkey. My sister and I could do 8-band puzzle rings in a matter of seconds. Dubious distinction, that.

Anyway, baskets are great and I'm proud to be able to make some that are nearly perfect. Every one has a flaw, small maybe, but a flaw. Which is also great, proof that it's my work. People say that baskets can only be made by hand--there is no machine that can weave a basket. Who knows whether that's true or not, but think of the millions of baskets for sale in this country alone. Made by political prisoners in China, by poor women in Malaysia, by Mexican villagers. And still I buy some from time to time, just because I like their shapes, or the way they're woven. I tell myself it's time to start weaving again but I'm afraid weaving represents a certain sadness to me, a time in my life when expectations weren't met and there was too much disappointment. Plus the obvious: I was weaving daily from 6-midnight and all weekend. For wholesale prices. But I was proud of my work.