That was the title I gave a post of mine on a Facebook yarn destash site. I had a bunch of colorful, dyed jute that I wanted to sell from my mother's stash.

Really didn't appreciate it when someone made a random, wholly undocumented comment that "you might want to wear a mask because I heard that jute causes lung problems."

Who knows how many buyers that comment scared off. I did some research online and all I could find on the subject was a study of garment workers in Nepal who inhaled not only jute dust but also cotton and flax dust who could get lung problems. Kind of a leap to surmise that recreational weavers could have the same problem. I didn't notice any similar comments about all the mohair, cotton and wool I see being sold there, so why pick on my jute? Anyway, I sold it...

Had a nice day with Dad today. He was up for something to do so he joined me as we:

1. Dropped off some cat food and old towel donations at the town animal shelter

2. Dropped off a book at library for them to sell

3. Stopped in at an art gallery where I dropped off 3 more pieces of my mother's work and picked up a framed piece I asked the gallery owner, a friend of my mom's, to frame for me. She had quoted me a price of $75 and I was so surprised when she insisted on giving it to me! She said I deserved it, a reference to all the stuff going on with my mother. That was so nice of her; I dropped off another matted piece of my mom's to have framed, so she'll have a chance to make some money off me, which I don't mind. I intend to continue getting pieces matted, one at a time, as long as I'm working and can afford it. If I don't frame, they will begin to get damaged.

4. After that, since it was such a nice sunny day and WARM, upper 50s, we kept driving north into scenic Litchfield County where we stopped by Squantz Pond and I told dad what the lake was known for (drownings, due to deep waters and lots of people from NYC coming up who never learned to swim). From there we continued north and stopped in at The Old Store, run by the Sherman Historical Society. It's 1 part museum and local history center and one part cutesy gift shop. I couldn't resist buying 2 ornaments as gifts for people I know.

Then we drove up to Kent, CT, which is another cutesy little town that attracts a lot of day trippers from the city, though a different, more upscale crowd than those who go to the pond with their loud boom boxes and picnics.

Conveniently, it was lunch time, so we took a break and had a fun lunch at the Fife & Drum, which is a local landmark. I had an inventive butternut squash ravioli dish with goat cheese and cranberries. He had mussels. We both had dessert.

On the way home we stopped at Tractor Supply store for a 2nd attempt to get a wheel for my sister's garden cart. They still didn't have it so we spent a while there placing an order.

Then I bumped into a weaver I'd just met this past week when she came to my home to buy yarns. She introduced me to her husband who was pushing the cart.

By then it was 3 pm and clouding over and suddenly dark, so, mindful of my dad's macular degeneration and the fact he still had to drive home from my house, I headed home rather quickly.

With all that driving around we had plenty of time to talk about things and as before, I learned some pretty eye-opening things from him, this time about his marriage to my mom (they're divorced) and my grandfather. I had not been aware, for instance, that my grandfather had a drinking problem. I believe my grandparents had a happy marriage and apparently he only drank away from home, but of course, that must have meant he was drinking and driving.

I never saw that side of my grandfather; i just saw a very loving, kind and fun-loving man.

The larger shocker was when my dad told me that the man who would become my mom's 2nd husband was actually someone she was seeing while she was still married to my father. In other words, she was cheating on my father. This kind of blew my mind.

The book I dropped off at the library to donate was one of my mom's, titled, The Art of Happiness. My dad had asked what the book was, and he said when i told him it instantly triggered a reaction in him because he felt my mother was always searching for something she felt was missing in her life.

I guess I have to agree with that. When she was younger, she was always reading psychology books on similar topics, and she did go thru 3 husbands. It doesn't mean I love her any less, knowing this, but I feel sad she may not have found what she was looking for. Art was the one constant in her life.

We are all imperfect people. I have learned more about my parents as people, not parents, these past few months, more than at any other time in my life.