October 28, 2013
October 23, 2013
i write at least two rhinebeck posts;
one about my time at the festival, itself,
and the other dedicated to “nips with steven”.
this year was a little different,
and so there will be just this one post.
shall we start with the nips?
ann hanson is always willing to oblige,
especially for art (bitch took at least a two finger gulp! mad props, ann)
my four-time rhinebeck partner in crime, andrea, took nip number two.
then it was you-von
who clearly enjoyed her nip.
a woman who is apparently a “somebody” in the knitting world
but whose name i forgot to write down . . .
is revealed to be stefanie japel after a bit of internet stalking.
val of the incomparable duo “flo and val” from butler, pa.
(seriously, you wish you knew these women)
laura chau, a nips with steven virgin.
(who looked at me like as if i were a crazy person but still participated)
and this is where nips with steven ends.
during laura’s nip, sonya alerted me that security had spotted me and the jig was up. though i tried to evade them as nonchalantly as possible, even happening upon an old friend with whom i hoped to hide innocently in the joy of our reunion, security very nicely escorted me out of the fairgrounds to deposit “my alcohol” in my car. thank christ val had given me her spare key or who know where i would’ve been.
i would have been fine with the whole thing,
since i guess i was technically breaking the rules,
but then it got back to me that they were gloating all over the fairgrounds that they had a caught me “chugging my whiskey.”
dudes, it’s not like you solved a murder.
you ruined our fun and censored my art.
the very least you can do
is be accurate.
i hadn’t taken a single nip.
while i wasn’t quite ballsy enough to try to sneak the bottle back in,
i refused to be deterred! and thus began:
“virgin nips with steven!”
which began with amy, a.k.a. boogie a.k.a. spunky eclectic(bitch has more names than prince)
followed by stacie, (whose husband, d, totally bailed on the hot pepper challenge this year)
and (canadian) erica a.k.a. weetsie
who is strikingly beautiful in person
and whose mild accent i find completely (and unusually) endearing.
then i encountered this guy whose handsomeness put me into some kind of stuttering fugue state wherein i lost all ability to be charming or articulate.
apparently, some time later, i took this shot
i love heather’s semi-literal take on the piece,
“exposing” herself by lifting her knitting.
so that’s it for nips.
i’m not sure if i’ll do it again next year,
but if i do, perhaps i can enlist some lookouts.
after nips with steven,
the hot pepper challenge is the most important of my rhinebeck traditions. this year, the ghost chili was supplanted by the black scorpion chili as the hottest in the world.
1. somehow, andrea and i both decided (independently) to chew on one side of our mouths only, thus minimizing the area affected and proving we are now both pros at this.
2. both of our gums and inner cheeks went numb on the side where we chewed the sample (a tostitos scoop filled with hot sauce for those of you who’re wondering).
3. one of my teeth experienced a shooting pain for about five minutes after the encounter. this worried me.
4. for the next hour, both andrea and i felt a bit . . . unsettled. as if, somehow, the black scorpion chili hot sauce were a drug.
we did not feel normal for some time.
5. while, later on, neither of us had the “sting ring” associated with eating spicy foods, we did each experience an immediate need to use the loo in the middle of the night. while i can’t say the pepper was responsible, i could “sense” it was included in the process.
the rest of rhinebeck was just icing on the cake:
this dude and his tiara.
the purple wizard whose name we found out this year is ed
(apparently, he’s legit. we always thought he just showed up in his wizard digs and walked around for shits and giggles)
beth hansenfreshly dyed and dealing nicely with a completely incompetent little girl.
i ended day one with my second rhinebeck celebrity sighting.
this time is was scott cohen of gilmore girls fame.
while he’s no uma thurman, a celebrity is a celebrity. (a big thank you to the twitterverse for a) confirming that i wasn’t crazy and this was in fact a celebrity while b) supplying the name)
before leaving for day two,
the day for last minute shopping and lunch,
we got a little silly. what follows will demonstrate
how much fun we have in the cool kids house and confirm for you
that you’re completely jealous you weren’t there with us.
rhinebeck has become a pilgrimage,
the one time of year when i have no responsibilities,
can hang with people who make me laugh, and simply enjoy being for a spell. it’s a necessary restorative and, though difficult, i find a way to make going possible. and i couldn’t be more grateful
to spend the weekend with these sickos.
October 20, 2013
i don’t have enough bandwith to do a proper post
but this is what i’ll say about today’s rhinebeck adventure:
beware the human door.
this bitch kept getting in everyone’s way at the into the whirled booth.
i and about five other women just wanted to look at some roving,
but she was not having it.
you’d reach for a braid,
she’d reach for a braid.
she was a fucking fiber linebacker;
there was no getting around her!
so beware, bitches, the human door.
she is not fucking around.
October 7, 2013
i am so. behind.
in the past two weeks or so,
i’ve been fighting off some kind of plague
and been dealing with the death of my grandpa.
it’s been one of those times when one is reminded
that being an adult fucking sucks.
(it also means there might be some big life changes in my future)
but for right now,
i have a lot of catching up to do.
so of course i’ve cast on a boneyard.
i never get bored of a plain triangular shawl.
i imagine it’s what sock knitting is like for sock knitters.
*t-10 days to rhinebeck.
September 22, 2013
because my (likely vain) pursuit of becoming an “academic”
requires a gradually increasing inhuman amount of work
such that anything that involves fiber
has been all but completely eliminated from my life
my annual trip to rhinebeck is especially important to me this year.
these are the things i love about rhinebeck:
1. the homeric two-day road trip with my fiber buddy andrea; epic driver, designer, yarn hocker, networker, and the brains (and brawn) behind yarn superhero llc. we laugh, swear, gossip, judge, eat, harmonize to joni mitchell for hours, and peep the shit out of some leaves. this drive is the initial decompression required for me to (try to) forget my real life and put me in the rhinebeck state of mind.
2. i stay at the cool kids house. while i’m not famous, and there are definitely houses with more famous yarny people in them, our rhinebeck house is by far where the real cool kids stay. fuck the ravelry peeps and their damn baby. fuck whatever cabin in the woods the yarn harlot or clara parks might be staying in. we stay here. while most of the details are completely confidential, let me just say that there’s some extraordinary inappropriateness that goes down at our house.
you wish you were invited.
but you’re not.
3. this year, my old friend, coworker, and yarn-store sibling, anna, will finally be coming to rhinebeck. she will be staying at the cool kids house. (the details aren’t clear, but i think there was a horrible death in the group that led to an opening. i don’t ask question)
4. my lack of vagina combined with intense undiagnosed sleep apnea means i get my own room. as an only child, this makes my soul rejoice.
5. the food. people have strong opinions about the food at rhinebeck. after a few years, this is what i think. the artichokes are not worth the line. the lamb ravioli with a side of garlic spinach is. i skip the shitty breakfast sandwiches and load up on apple donuts and cider. bring your own booze.
6. the ghost chili challenge. this will mark the third year of andrea’s and my masochistic indulgence at the hot sauce counter, thus making it into a tradition. the ghost chili is the world’s hottest pepper (last year, we had some fellow tasters, one of whom vomited after) but we just can’t seem to resist becoming high school boys for a few minutes to relish the feeling of doing something stupid for its own sake. this year, if memory serves, there’s a rumor that the hot sauce man has acquired the new, even hotter scorpion chili whose spiciness supposedly makes the ghost chili look like a lovely glass of milk fresh from the cow’s teet.
pray for us.
7. judging famous knitters based on their outfits.
(no elaboration necessary).
there are other things,
things i can’t put into words,
things i can’t even think of at 2:34 in the morning.
my goal is to outdo the previous year.
so if you’re going to rhinebeck,
or know someone who is,
look for me
and be a part of rhinebeck herstory.
it’s for art.
in other news,
the clockwork is on the move.
it was last seen with some new hampshire knitteratti:
right to left: thea colman (babycocktails), dawn catanzaro, diana (bestitched), julia farwell-clay. unseen & across the table were cecily glowik macdonald, bristol ivy, ellen mason (odacier), & erin m.
(who is rather immune to internet stalking so no link for her!)
photo courtesy of misa
September 13, 2013
September 8, 2013
August 30, 2013
Late August, given heavy rain and sun
For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.
You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
Like thickened wine: summer’s blood was in it
Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger
Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots
Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.
Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills
We trekked and picked until the cans were full
Until the tinkling bottom had been covered
With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned
Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered
With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard’s.
We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre.
But when the bath was filled we found a fur,
A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache.
The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush
The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour.
I always felt like crying. It wasn’t fair
That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot.
Each year I hoped they’d keep, knew they would not.
August 10, 2013
the random number generator has spoken
and the winning number for the bitches get stitches
fourth blogiversary giveaway is. . . 34!
which means shannon w. will be getting an email
with a $100 gift certificate to blue moon fiber arts
let’s see what yea 5 have is store, shall we?
August 9, 2013
**the giveaway has now been closed!**
you thought i’d forgotten, hadn’t you?
you thought i’d forgotten it’s my blogiversary.
it has been a week, bitches.
as my new favorite blogger would say,
gurl, i’ve been going through it!
so i don’t think i have a thoughtfully written post in me tonight.
if you feel like getting sentimental, head on over to last year’s post.
but i should do something to commemorate the occasion, right?
make shit just a little festive around here?
what about a giveaway?
for old times’ sake?
the bitches get stitches fourth blogiversary giveaway!
1. spread the word – you can do that anyway you see fit; reblog, tweet, e-mail, facebook, ravelry, phone call, text, whatever. there’s even a ‘share’ button at the bottom of the post. just let some other knitter know about the giveaway. it’s completely on the honor system. i trust ya.
2. leave a comment – it’s the easiest way to assign everyone a random number for the all-knowing random number generator to pick a winner. make sure to comment on this post. you’d think i wouldn’t need to specify that but >shakes head from experience< and for the sake of fairness and my personal sanity, please leave only one comment.
3. this one’s most important – you only have the 24 hours from the time i posted to ‘spread the word’ and ‘leave a comment’. the winner will be announced tomorrow, august 10th.
while i realize my mere presence via the words on your screen
is a gift unto itself, the only gift you really need,
a $100 gift certificate to blue moon fiber arts
would be a bit more traditional.
(i’m a sucker for tradition)