October 20, 2015
how to talk about rhinebeck.
how to talk about rhinebeck
when you haven’t talked
this was, perhaps,
the most restrained i’ve been
at a fiber festival, mostly just
replenishing those things i always do.
i’m definitely not as deft as i once was;
i dropped a lot of stitches,
my gauge is inconsistent,
and i had to take breaks for achey hands,
but boy did it feel great to knit again.
gotta love that shift in brain waves
brought on by a repetitive action.
so since i was using this paintbox,
i gave myself permission to replace it.
(i couldn’t get a good shot on its own, but you see it in the first pic.
the colorway is steampunk in the kashmir base)
my mom’s been kinda awesome this year in the face of pretty intense stress. so when i saw these two towels that match the one i got her last time, i knew what i was buying from karen this go ’round.
(she doesn’t have a website, apparently,
but if you want more info you can email her here)
then i got my stock of handmade soap from simpler thyme.
a couple lavender, a tea tree, and sandalwood will last me a while.
i also stopped by gene matras’ booth,
stocking up on some of his notecards to sustain my semi-secret paper addiction. (*sigh* another artsy macro shot showing only the ass of the sleepy pig notecard. i guess i’m out of practice with photography as well.
at least you get an idea of the level of detail in his work)
someday, i’m going to get one of his originals.
and i better do it quick; he’s no spring chicken.
this next item i didn’t even have to purchase.
on the anniversary of the annual chili pepper challenge andrea and i inaugurated five years ago at which we (and now most of our housemates) sample the hottest sauce at the wild coyote booth,
old man chili himself gave us each
a free bottle of hot sauce.
he gave me a bottle of buried alive, the sauce that gets its flavor and heat via not one not two but all three varietals of the ghost chili.
this shit does not. fuck. around.
the favorite thing i got a rhinebeck:
a selection of pieces gifted by sonya philip from her microscopy series. this gave me a lot of feels. a lot. i’ve admired sonya’s work since before i even knew who she was. and for her to just give me this work that she made… it meant a lot. i’ll treasure them and give them a place of honor in my tiny house.
well kids, that’s it for the loot.i’m still meditating on how to tackle my rhinebeck post proper.
it was…an incredible retreat from reality, so restorative.
it stirred up a lot of things in me, happy parts of me
that haven’t been a part of my life in a while now.
i’m feeling really lucky to have gone
and want to write it up right.
see you tomorrow?
July 11, 2014
i find it difficult to know where to begin, exactly.
or perhaps, more accurately, how to begin again.
in lieu of any real effort or explanation
i’ll simply write a post as if
i haven’t been largely absent from the blogosphere.
this past wednesday,
on the invitation of a peripheral friend
of a dude was i was dating earlier this year
(note the ever-present past tense)
i went to a knitting group.
i know i know.
you require evidence.
i found myself uncommonly shy
which, for anyone who really knows me
is in general keeping with my character.
the lukewarm reception of a member of my high school class
that i hadn’t seen since graduation didn’t really make for the most auspicious of starts. though i take comfort in the fact that,
of the two of us,
i’ve aged better.
(i wonder if she still plays the french horn)
i won’t go into details of the evening
as they are largely what one would expect of a knitting group:
a group of giddy women, happy to escape their quotidian, conventional lives with a perhaps higher degree of nerdery than one sees in the general population.
i’m not really sure this group is for me.
the number of new mothers and percentage of group members currently at various stages of gestation means the focus of conversation is largely…limited we’ll say.*
there’s also much drinking and
as i’m a rather fastidious knitter,
i don’t really care to drink when i knit
as it affects one’s gauge.
but even if this group is not for me.
and i miss it.
i don’t see how my life
in its current formation
can accommodate this particular hobby,
at least with any kind of regularity.
and please, no one even mention
my poor disused matchless.
i think i must.
my goal in life
is to create a life
of which i can be proud.
i’m not sure i’m doing that
if i’m daily denying myself
one of my life’s few joys.
at least i get good coffee on a regular basis.
i’m not sure if anyone’s left out there
(and if you are, do leave a comment; it encourages!)
but if you miss me at all
much of my online life
has moved to instagram.
there’s a lot of coffee art and dyke graffiti,
but if you want to stalk my life,
take a look
until next time, bitches.
*the only credit i’ll demand is for ignoring the woman who explained that she circumcised her son, not for religious or health reasons (spurious enough though those are) but because “everyone else in her family is”. setting aside the fact that she’s apparently seen the genitalia of all her male relatives, the fact that she was willing to mutilate her son for the sake of aesthetic conformity created in me such a violent sense of disgust and repulsion that there is no word i know of in the english language powerful enough to describe it. i later fixed her knitting which, i think, points to my general superiority, if not as a human being, at least in manners.
June 4, 2014
the other day,
i got a package.
and you know how much
i love an unexpected package.
there is absolutely nothing better than an unforeseen gift;
may it be a sign of many many things to come!
so thanks, anna.
i miss you, bitch!
tomorrow, how about a fo, eh?
it’s been a while, after all.
September 13, 2013
July 18, 2013
i began this post
in the middle of the night
in a guest bedroom in scappoose, oregon
with the intention of recounting my day’s activities
and proceeding thusly for the rest of my mini-vacay/retreat from life.
it soon became obvious
that scappoose lacked the bandwidth necessary
to blog on a daily basis, at least if i wanted to show you my pictures.
so now i am home
literally weeks after my return.
and must resort to the recap format for today’s blog
this might take a while.
coffee at ristretto roasters
which was the only coffee i had in portland that lived up to the hype
(this mocha was not fucking around)
there were a couple trips to grand central bakery
where i was more impressed by their breakfast sandwich and shrimp po boy (scroll down) than their sweet stuff.
in portland proper,
there was the ubiquitous
homeless/punk/beggar with cute animal entourage.
this group was outside powell’s where i had a pretty amazing haul
the next day,
tina and i went to black sheep gathering
where we saw judith mackenzie judge the fleeces,
a thoroughly delightful and educational experience.
(note: apparently, shetlands are in this year)
(the aforementioned shrimp sandwich)
we ran into beth hansen of hansen crafts
she is . . . a character. if you meet her,
and it feels like she’s making fun of you,
that’s because she is.
it’s totally normal.
i have strong feelings about the miniSpinner,
but this is all i’m going to say about it: i’m a traditionalist.
if you’re not, and aren’t bothered by the electric component
you should definitely buy it;
it’s a pretty fucking awesome product.
i won’t be buying one because
i am a fuddy duddy.
i stopped by black trillium fibre studio‘s booth,
one of the only booths i thought worthy of documenting, really.
the problem with all of these shows,
especially the smaller ones,
is that these people aren’t business people.
sure, i bet 90% of them make an amazing product,
but that doesn’t mean they know shit about how to sell it.
you’ve got to make a booth that makes people want to come in,
or you might as well not even bother to show up.
melanie knows how to work with what she has;
simple set up, a few beautiful samples, wide open
so people can get in and out easily.
similarly, the men at the clemes & clemes booth knew what was up!
these dudes are professional, know their product, work well together,
have their demonstration down, and there’s something to be said for a uniform. this dude had me wanting a fucking drum carder
something for which i have no use or space in my life.
that, my dears, is a salesman!
(sorry for the shitty photo)
then i met some west coast knitters
though i can only remember angela davis (the knitting one)
with her amazing mustard eye shadow (right) and parna
(with the broken hand), both of whom i hope to see again.
(sorry angela, not the best photo, i know, but better than the other one)
the next day,
tina took the misses newton, heidi dog, and me to the beach
before which we hit up this joint,
pacific way bakery & caféwhich, was fucking amazing…last year.
but made us a but queasy this time around.
and our waitress?
then we returned for more chicken time, but with a twist.
i don’t know what it is, but i fucking love deer.
maybe it’s from watching bambi as a kid, i don’t know.
but i can not get enough deer.
and i got way close to this guy.
i was then treated to a ________ about which i cannot tell you.
what i can tell you is that it was a moment when i felt
humble, special, and kinda fancy.
because it was fancy.
and more than a little pantsy.
though likely wasted on my middle class ______.
the whole tripped was capped off
by an amazing meal at cocotte bar & bistro
a meal totally worth live tweeting. which i did.
(click pics to read descriptions)
then i immediately hopped on a plane and headed home.
this trip was my vacation,
a flight, really, from my incredibly stressful summer.
there were whole swathes of time when i was not seized
by crippling work-related anxiety.
that level of ease is only surpassed
when i escape to my parent’s house,
or as i still think of it,
tina’s guest room
is a close second.
she’s the kindest host.
i even get my own bathroom.
*there was an undocumented fabulous indian dinner with tina, megan, and deb, friends from three very different epochs of my life, followed by a night out with megan at a former bowling alley dive where, once the lyons’ club bingo night rapped up, we watched the mentally challenged and tone deaf sing karaoke.there’s no picture in the world that can capture that.