Archives for May 2005

I know, I’m taking my time showing you the Haul. I’ll get around to it, I promise. But first I want to tell you about Monday. Yeah, Thursday’s a good time for that, isn’t it? Man, I’ve been busy lately.

So Monday we wake up, clear out the hotel room (why is there something so cool about just leaving the keycard in the room and not having to check out at the desk? Feels like a dine-and-dash might, all "let’s go!" and burning rubber), get in our PT Cruiser and head north. Or we assumed it was north. Later I gave Lala my compass wristband I got in my Wendy’s equivalent of a Happy Meal, and it was confirmed that yes, New York is north of Maryland, but until then it was only an assumption.

(Note on the PT Cruiser: Lala likes them. She has tried to rent one before, only to be thwarted by the gods that rule rental car agreements. When we picked up the car at the Dulles airport, her eyes widened as we got close to our spot. Yes! That’s ours! The Cruiser! That moment would have been a totally great moment to nod and murmur, "Yes, I got it just for you." Instead I gave up the goods and admitted I had no idea how we ended up with it, just get in! Let’s go! Burning rubber….)

We headed north, our map in hand. We ended up on the New Jersey Turnpike, which is kind of thrilling somehow. Looking into the trees, I tried to catch a glimpse of Tony Soprano-ish houses, but couldn’t see much. People drove very considerately at first, at a constant rate, all polite ‘n’ stuff. It was unnerving. Closer to New York City, the traffic got heavier and ruder, and I relaxed. I’m used to jerks on the road, and I have to admit I can get all passive-aggressive and enjoy pissing people off by leaving large gaps and slowing when someone drives up my tailpipe. But those truck drivers! The east-coast truck drivers are something else. They’re just mean. I stayed out of their way.

We drove over the Verrazano Bridge and into Brooklyn. We were driving in New York! This was awesome! We found our way to Cari’s, and dumped the car in front. It was a close call, whether or not to leave my beloved spinning wheel in the car or not, but she lives in a nice neighborhood, and it was the middle of the day, and I could not see lugging that thing, small as it is, all over the West Village. So we walked up to the subway stop and trained into Manhattan. There is just something so satisfying about doing that, isn’t there? It’s different from BARTing into San Francisco. SF is fabulous, but it’s small. You run into people you know. New York feels so big, and so fast, and so full of things that might happen. I love it.

    With the subway map. I’m a map dork.

Lala was meeting up with an old friend, and I wanted to let them have some time to themselves, so we parted ways at Washington Square Park, and I set off for a little ramble. I didn’t get far, walked up a bit of 6th, and then turned around and came back and settled myself down at a sidewalk Mexican restaurant. I made friends with the bartender, we bonded over Bohemia beer, and I got out my knitting.

Lala and Moira picked me up from there and we walked to another sidewalk place where I got a salad that shocked my fried-food system. Good food, good talk, good afternoon.

And then back to B-lyn for the knitting! Cari invited some of my favorite people, and I flashed back on last year when I’d done this for the first time. And this year, even better. These are my girls, yo. And even better to have My Girl next to me for it this year.

    Iris, Lala, Cheb, Emily, Em, Anne, Cari, Cassie, Jackie

    Those are Lala’s flying fingers in the foreground

    More flying hands

    Sorry, Emily, but this one of Cheb is too cute to resist.

    I love this picture of Cari!

    Dogs steal yarn, you know. But not Diego.

We had a marvellous time. Anne and I had been emailing for a while, and her path crossed with Cari’s, and she ended up at the house to my pleased surprise. And I’d wanted to meet both Cassie and Jackie for a while, and I already knew Iris was awesome, and y’all know that I heart my Em.

New York is all right with me. Yep. And another thing that’s all right is a portable spinning wheel:

I got some interested looks, and one guard came over and we discussed Indian charkas. Okay, I only mentioned the word and he looked pleased. My kind of discussion, baybee.

Tomorrow, stash! (Don’tcha like how I’m drawing it out, much like that long draw above? Blog fodder is not to be squandered.)

Oh, boy. Where do I start?

Let’s start with the plain facts:

1. We had a GREAT time.

2. I slipped, fell, and bought a CRAPload of fiber on the way down. There was none left in my wake. None. People cried. They saw me sailing through ahead of them, buying ALL the fiber at the festival, and they pleaded with me to stop, to leave them just a little bit, an ounce of roving, an inch of combed top, but no, I took no prisoners and left no survivors. There are way too many metaphors in this paragraph. Oh, well.

3. Lala is a really, really good traveling companion.

4. I’m tired. I left work Friday morning after working all night and flew in to DC (boy, were my arms tired). I got home Tuesday afternoon, had an hour at home, and came back to work. A full, four-day weekend, extremely well-worth it. But I’m sleepy.

5. I am organized. Before we left, I’d made a little packet. I was semi-embarrassed to admit it, but I’d gathered together our plane e-ticket info, rental car reservations, directions from DC to our hotel in Maryland, from the hotel to the Sheep and Wolf Estival, from the hotel to Cari’s house, all put in order in a plastic sleeve as we’d need ’em. And the most amazing thing? The papers worked! On Monday, we woke up in the Maryland hotel, got in the car, and drove to Cari’s. In Brooklyn. We had no real map, just verbal directions from Google maps (which were really good, btw), and we had no earthly idea where we were going, only that it was north. We didn’t know which states we were going to go through (since we apparently both slept through all of Geography). And eventually, after driving a long time, we pulled up in front of Cari’s very door. Amazing. But I get ahead of myself.

Maryland Sheep and Wool:

The people! The wool! The smell of those fried little cakey things that I can never ever remember the name of, have to think "bear claw" before I finally get to…. no, still don’t have it…. Funnel cakes! That’s it! Oh, just think of the smell of those wafting through the air, mixed with the scent of lamb cooking up, which is both disturbing and reassuring at the same time. To me, anyway. I can imagine how it could be only disturbing to others.

Best parts (becase apparently I am still in List Mode):

1. The people. I can’t even begin to remember to list all the people I saw and hugged, so I won’t. But I got to meet a bunch of readers, every single of them sweet and charming and funny and lovely. And I got to love on a lot of old friends, which did this heart right.

2. The fiber. I had to buy a storage tub from Target to get it all home (thanks, Claudia, for the idea — I hadn’t the foggiest about what I was going to do before you mentioned that). A storage tub! A huge one! It took all my body weight and a whole roll of strapping tape to get it closed. Then at the airport when the guy told me he’d have to open it, I said, "No, it’ll explode if you do that!" That’s not the right answer, if you were wondering. I managed to convince him that it was just a slip of the tongue before he evacuated the terminal, but it was close.

3. The wheel. Oh, yeah, did I tell you I bought a wheel? I was out of CONTROL, people. I bought the one I wanted, the Ashford Joy, from Morgaine at Carolina Homespun, like I promised her years ago I would do if I ever started really spinning. Yes, I went to Maryland to buy a wheel from a woman who lives fifteen miles from me. Oh, well. It has its own cunning little backpack, and I adore it. I might sleep with it. You never know. (I carried it on the plane with me, and when the security guy saw it on the screen, he said, "Whoo-ooh-oow." I agree.)

4. The food. We ate nothing that wasn’t sugared or fried for three days. I am not exaggerating. It was like Disneyland, only you could get a coke for less than seven dollars. I feel like I have never run a damn day in my whole life.

Want some pictures? You’ve been very patient. I actually didn’t take very many. Lala has the good ones — I’ll ask her to either blog them or send them to me in the coming days. But from my camera:

This lil lady has dreadlocks.

Lala’s getting into it.

Okay, really into it.

Yep, there’s my baby. The wheel, not the Harlot, although she is babelicious (you know you were thinking it). All that fiber in those bags?  Mine, also. But I lied through my damn teeth about it:

None of that is mine. I swear. Nope.
Also, speaking of lying to Stephanie, we pulled our very best prank on her — Lala made me buy some cotton candy and put it right on the very top of all my fiber. "Just LOOK at this pretty roving!" Stephanie ooohs and aaahs and says it looks like the color of cotton candy. "It IS cotton candy!" Fits of giggles as Lala and I fall about, thinking ourselves the cleverest twelve-year olds at the Festival, Stephanie undoubtedly thinking it was high time to run for the hills.

There is nothing sweeter than a shorn alpaca. It’s like when a three-year old cuts the whiskers off a cat, so wrong-looking and so funny.

 

Now that’s cute.

 

Saturday night was a rare treat — after an Indian dinner with Greta and Maggi (both of whom I’d been dying to catch up with and love on) and my fiber-genius friend Deanna and her cool friend Shelly, I got to meet Joan-in-Reno, one of my favorite readers. She was an absolute delight.

And our Maggi learned to spin! Greta was her teacher, and Mogs picked it up like nothing I’ve ever seen. Lala was impressed, as you can see.

Me, Nathania, and Wendy. All I can say is, what happens in Maryland, stays in Maryland. But I believe there was gin involved.

 

I got fiber and a wheel — Lala got yarn and a hat. I know who scored more.

Tomorrow, some New York pics, as Maryland could not come to our girls, we brought Maryland to them.

And here you go!

Specs:
Pattern: Flame Cardigan from Vogue Spring/Summer 2005
Yarn: Old stashed merino/angora I think?
Gauge: 32st over pattern repeat
Needle size: 6US

And from the back:

I chose to not add that funky crochet bit between the ribbing and the upper pattern, and I lengthened the ribbing, ’cause I’m just not a cropped kinda gal. And you remember when I messed up that sleeve pattern? You can’t tell. If you see me at the Sheep and Wolf Estival, you might pick it out, but not from a trotting horse. Or as Janine says, "If you’re that close, you’d better be putting money in my garter belt." Or something like that.

And the Iris:

This is, without a doubt, my favorite sweater I’ve ever made. And this is, without a doubt, the last post before the Big Event in Maryland, so MWAH! Happy fibering! We’ll be back on Tuesday….

And for being so patient in waiting for the Flame pics, more photos for you, these from the Bolinas Whoreshoes show.

Silvia is rad:

And her date (bless me if I can remember his name – Pete?) was cool, too, although this shot doesn’t show his best face. I love this shot, though. I hope he doesn’t mind. (Silvia, tell me if he does.)

And then there’s me with my girl:

And have I mentioned that my girlfriend is a Total Fucking Rock Star?

And here:

See, the one who is picked to take the photos, takes the photos of things she likes. Just sayin’.

Might I proudly add that while she got that fab suit off eBay, I found her the boots in a window in Berkeley. Oh, yeah.

And the sisters were there! In order, Bethany, Christy, and me.

I hate that picture of me (hellllooo, treble chin) but are they not the cutest?

I swear, I took pictures of the new pink Flame sweater, but my internet has been intermittent at home, and lately more mittent than inter. I tried all day to fire up the computer, but nothing doing. So now I’m at work and have only time to show you a George update.

Remember what he looked like when I lived where Lala lives now? Now that crazy asparagus thing is sticking up like this:

 

This is how tall he is this week. Way, way over the rooftop:

And from a distance, his top disappears into the clouds over the rooftop. We’re going to climb it and steal the giant’s gold. Or his duck. I can’t remember. Goose that laid the golden egg? Maybe that’s it. Whatever, we’re there.

My new favorite blog. Man, I dig the new Pope. And he’s cute as a button:

Reuters photo, Alessandro Bianchi

Dr. Evil, anyone? Some believe he signals the end of the world. And this really might.