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Let the spinning wheel turn

I used to be a sweet girl. I would sit quietly, industriously knitting my little sweaters and socks and shawls, ever mindful of my mother's admonishions to keep my legs crossed at the ankle, to speak in a low voice, to never be drunk in public and to be modest and unassuming in all things.

Of course, girlhood passes - pearls slipping off a string, and all that. Suddenly, the world was awash in colors I'd never noticed; patterned with textures I could never have expected. It was as though a curtain had been drawn back to reveal the secret lives of the staid and the familiar, and I was watching with vicarious, knowing pleasure. A sudden thrill of understanding - an awakening, if you will.

blame me?

I want to learn to spin. How do I go about it?