Last

This is what it looks like when you're about to leave for SOAR.

 This is what it looks like during Janel's workshop.

This is what I made in the workshop. My hands hurt to wrap the yarn around the cardstock, so I stopped and just wound skeins. By the third day it hurt to spin so I had to stop that too.

 This is what our table at the workshop review looked like. Pretty awesome.

 This is most of what I bought at the market. I was pretty restrained because half of it isn't even for me and I'm not sure when I'll be pain-free enough to spin the half that is for me. I'd been resting my hands pretty well the preceding weeks, but I'm afraid this week has been a bit of a setback in terms of pain.

This is the street view of Alinea. A few of us decided that since we weren't buying airfare it was a reasonable expense (yes, these are more or less comparable expenses), and that was before we knew it was the last SOAR. Turns out to have been a fitting tribute.

This is what one of the courses looked like. (There were a total of thirteen; all fantastic, a couple insanely mind-blowing). Yup, Real Fire. Pretty awesome.

 This is what our dessert course looked like. They constructed it in front of us. Art for the eyes and mouth.

If you're interested, that's a chocolate sort-of custard on something crust-like with frozen whipped milky something on top, pate sucree, candied basil leaves, creme fraiche, violet syrup, and hazelnut somethings, all sprinkled with glittery violet pixie dust (at right front there's a pile).

The grey is a rubberized cloth, and you can see that the violet syrup settled into square blobs.

Yumminess.

This was by far one of the most amazing experiences I've ever had.

This is what Loyce's nuno scarf workshop looked like.

This is what it looked like when Loyce was cutting into my scarf. No, I really wasn't bothered about the cutting.

This is what it looks like when we hang out in the evenings in one of the classrooms. This was a quiet moment.

This is what it looks like when Gord Lendrum spins on a spindle. I think he was messing with us.

 This is what it looks like the very last night of SOAR, listening to Amy, trying to hold it together, not happy that this is the last time that we will be assembled like this, for this, this time and in the future, even if there's another event that grows to replace SOAR, if there could be a replacement.

 Some spinners don't need fancy tools but make use of what they have at hand. Or on their feet. Sandals make adequate spindle-holders as it turns out.

That was my nineteenth and last SOAR. I've been every year since 1995 when I thought I would go just that one time and then they couldn't keep me away.

Even though it's only a week a year, it's been an integral part of my life in ways I can't express. My SOAR friends, my SOAR family are people hanging out at the extraordinary end of the bell curve and every time I'm with them I'm stimulated, relaxed, excited, comforted, inspired, amused, moved, powerful, humbled and altogether a better person.