Two Odd Bits

11AM Ask Any New Yorker

Woman coming in from outside: It's really human out there!
Man: Yeah -- it's not the heat, it's the humanity that will get you every time.

Kansas City, Missouri

via Overheard in the Office, Jun 27, 2007

Also: Sock Monkey Dress

H.R. Bunzanstuff

We had rain! A little over an inch since Friday. Not nearly enough, but still it means that the grass won't be crunchy underfoot. Of course, the humidity level is way up so I am forced to stay inside. Forced to sit in air conditioning and knit.

I have begun the Melon Shawl from the cover of Victorian Knits Today. Here it is a few days ago.




I now have close to a third of the center panel done, (about 14") and I now realize that I only have enough yarn to complete two thirds of it. Decision time. Since I cannot reproduce the yarn, I could spin a complementary yarn and put it at each end. I could make the border much bigger or make the borders at each end only bigger. I have options, and that's all I could ask for.

The bunnies are keeping me busy. I have thirty angoras and the heat of summer can be deadly for them. I've clipt a few ahead of time (I usually clip them every three months as their wool grows at least an inch a month.) Brought Bongo inside for a comb out last night. Isn't he handsome? He's one that will not need an ear tattoo. However, there are four others that look just like him (only with a complete set of ears) and they will.




Another of Stubby's offspring showed herself.



She sports the "mane" that he, the lion head, had and her ears are definitely littler that normal. The brown baby's aren't this small and he has no mane. They have already grown used to the cats and Buster. I had to crawl out the front door onto the porch to get this shot.

Hyena Yarn. What?

First, a shout out to Valerie at the Secret Yarninator. I have tried posting on your blog - but Blogger doesn't recognize me. Hi Blogger! Just wanted you to know that I am out here and appreciate your comments.

By the way, I've changed settings for my comments, now allowing anonymous ones, because Blogger and Goggle were not recognizing my friends. If you want to email me, either click the little envelop icon below this post or use this address: fuzzarelly at epowerc dot net

We got a little bit of rain Monday and Tuesday. Not enough - I'm hearing that we are something like 8 inches shy of our usual rainfall total for this time of year. Many of the weeds, such as plantains, are stressed and setting seed early, so pollen counts here in the Pollen Basket of the World are high. I am allergic in particular to plantain pollen.

It's a fine time to stay indoors and spin. Here is the new and improved shawl yarn. The color is a good likeness. And the coin is an american dime.








I have had people ask for more technical info concerning my spinning and knitting. The fiber is merino/angora/silk plied with cotton thread . The McMorran balance estimates it as 4000 yards per pound (250 per ounce) and wpi is 22-24. The skein shown weighs 1.3 ounces so I'm guessing that I have 325 yards to begin with. I am anxious to work with the drum carder again, especially with all the new "secrets" I've learned. I have used up all of the background merino from this dye lot, so the next skein will blend with, but not match, the first.

My camera is sucky. However, I am comfortable using it and actually, for most of my needs, it does okay. A nice close up capability would be nice, though.




Hyena rabbit. That's what this guy looks like, don'tcha think? The littlest babies all got a hair cut Sunday evening and I was tickled at the funny markings on them, down there at skin level. And bless the late Stubby's little heart - I saw one of his children by Bambi by the porch this morning. He's skittish, but from inside the house, I could see that his ears were truncated just like Stubby's. Bambi doesn't bolt when she sees us but she is wary. Bambi rejected both of her previous litters so I am surprised at this turn of events.I leave pellets and water for her and Ramsey on the front steps so they have some positive associations with us.

retreat from retreat

The weekend retreat made me feel better. I slept well, the food was plain fare but was just fine and I walked more in two days than I normally do in two weeks. The asthma went along for the trip and made his nasty presence known. The chain of events in my asthma attacks are these - Sneeze. Lather rinse and repeat at least three times until sinuses are completely engorged. Then, begin coughing. Cough until those around you move away. Far away. Continue coughing and wheezing until inhaler can be located.

Mentally, I was moderately well. Too much stimulation at first. Too many people to talk to, too much to see. Saturday was less overwhelming; more calm. (I did leave after breakfast Sunday in order to see Sweetie for a little bit before he went to work. I missed the bunnies, too, and was worried that some one of them needed me. [Remember my last trip?] They were all just fine.) Sweetie had made progress setting the fence posts.

The retreat was at St. Meinrad Arch Abbey, a Benedictine Order. This is one of two Arch Abbeys of this order in the United States. It began thriving about one hundred years ago. Thriving among the farmers and river people and a burgeoning Roman Catholic population. Several of us attended vespers Saturday and while it was not a spiritual moment for me, it was a lovely experience. At the gift shop, I bought a St. Francis of Assisi card with A Prayer for my Pet on one side and a rendering of the saint on the other. It can't hurt and any help during a bunny burial I won't deny.)

I brought along my drum carder in hopes of showing others how to blend fiber on it, and I did. Then, Miss BettyBob showed me a few carder tricks that she learned from a Deb Menz workshop. That was worth the price of admission, right there. Also, Miss BettyBob has arranged to get Katharine Cobey to teach another knitting workshop for us at next year's retreat. Hot dog! (I missed the last class because I was bound, hand and foot, to my store.)

As far as my knitting goes, I am sick unto death of the current shawl.



Why am I sick of it? The boring yet monotonous color, f'rinstance and mostly. I'm sick of spinning it and I'm sick of knitting it. It took ten minutes to ravel what had taken about two weeks to knit.




The ball weighs one ounce. (I seldom do this sort of "frogging" - mostly I like what knit.) I have learned from experience when to quit, to cut the dog off the loom. When not to throw good money (effort) after bad. But do not fret! I am spinning up something very nice and should be able to get going with the knitting needles either tomorrow or the next day.

My plan for this week is for a lot of dying. I want many ounces of merino, silk and angora done by Friday.

By the way, my silk noil outfit was the bee's knees over the weekend. Thank you all for the nice comments. I have hopes to stitch and dye three tunic and pants outfits to S.e.l.l. online as I have just opened a store at Etsy Store, but more on that later.

CHARGE! (oops, I mean) RETREAT!!!

Which is where I am going this weekend with twenty-plus of the Friendship Spinners. This summer we are going to St. Meinrad Abbey, west of Louisville. No cooking, cleaning or bunny duty until Sunday evening. That is sometimes the best part.

And I want you all to know that I made clothes yesterday! Cut, sewed and then dye painted.




Boys Are Quick to Master No-Dish Meals

Kid #1: ... So then I took a waffle and I filled it with eggs and grits and syrup, and I folded the whole thing up and ate it like a taco...
Kid #2: What? You're going to catch diabetes that way!
Kid #3: What are grits, anyway? What do grits taste like?
Kid #1: Syrup. They taste like syrup.

via Overheard in New York, Jun 14, 2007

One last thing. Here is Sweetie and Sheila.

Scenic View

Took the Scenic View home from grocery shopping at the Kroger in Brandenburg, KY, which is actually closer to me than any store in Indiana, save our General Store.



One can see the Ohio River from here.



Also, the chemical plant in Kentucky. Nice.




I'm always amazed that huge bits of livestock stay behind little bits of wire. (Or wahr, if you're from here. As in Bob Wahr.)



When I take the back roads route, I remember why I like living here so much. (Sometimes all I can think about is how much I hate living in this hateful, close minded, close knit yet inbred part of the earth.) My camera skills cannot capture what my heart and brain sees - but I have tried. I am a sylvan person, not a water person. I love the trees and green fields and gently rolling hills and the big sky.

By the way, I DO try to practice gentle loving kindness. Really I do. Sometimes it is hard. Especially when certain ass wipes around here make it their personal mission to mess with me, follow me, and all around generally harass me. Not so much anymore since one of them pled guilty to assault last year and had a no contact ruling from the court, but the hostility is still so thick from them I can feel it. Just from them, though, as almost everyone else is nice and pleasant. (Unless it is their nature to be a dick. In that case, it isn't personal.) This shit, though, was personal. As an aside, I have just now weaned myself off of the Effexor, much as I love the medz. I mean, I have been taking various strengths of this aunty depressant/aunty anxiety drug for, what, four years (more?) (How long ago did the shit from those guys start?) I felt it was time to recapture some of my anger, piss and vinegar. It's time to wake up and be creative and driven. The only medz that I am taking now is the Preventafit for my menopause heat. I am hoping that soon I can be rid of that, too.

Yes, I have wanted to move. Desperately at times. But unfortunately, there are ass wipes everywhere and I do like the scenery here. Also, the house is paid for.

Just Not in Any Recent Incarnation

Clerk: What's that symbol on your shirt?
Chick: It says 'Nepal.'
Clerk: What's Nepal?
Chick: It's where the Dalai Lama lives.
Clerk: What's the Dalai Lama? Is that an animal?
Chick: Yeah, it's like a Yeti.
Clerk: Oh.

via Overheard in New York, Jun 12, 2007

Knitty.com

So. It's not just me. The folks at KNITTY also love bunnies. Plus, past writers express their Bunny Love.

a joke

How many Republicans does it take to change a light bulb?

Three. One to change the bulb, one to call the media and publicize it, and one to blame the electric bill on the Democrats.

AVATARS R US

These Portrait Illustrations are courtesy of these people. Fun!

A History of ....

I have been trying to mentally compose this blog entry, but I keep going back in my mind, the back story to set the context, to explain the why for I was there at that particular time. And back and back and back. So, fuckit, let the stream of consciencelessness begin...

One of the most intensely spiritual and formative events that ever happened to me, happened when I was sixteen. Nineteen seventy three. Free love. Hashish. Bell bottoms. Thai sticks. Long hair.

And there I was....

...in Athens, Georgia. 1973. Home of the University of Georgia and a burgeoning music scene that would later produce REM and the B 52's. Free concerts were a part of campus life. Expected. What one paid student fees to provide. Drugs were freely available. For free.

I was sixteen and into self mutilation with cigarettes and other things. A cup of depression, anyone?

However, I do not wish to diminish the experience. Second Oldest Brother had surfaced there from his hitchhiking trek, maybe the year before. (Please excuse me if exactitude of dates is your obsession. It was a long time ago.) That summer, Mom and I drove from Northern Indiana to visit Brother. Lean on Me was everywhere on the radio. I did and do now love that song. I ended up staying in Athens for a few weeks, supposedly with Brother; mom drove back home, I guess.
Brother must have had his own plans, however, because I was quickly pawned off onto his friend, Alex. Alex was the manager of a motel and I lived with him there on Lumpkin Street for the better part of a week. He was way cute, with the requisite long hair and the plus of a having job and a pad! (I was so completely cool with that, but on how many levels was this wrong?)

Brother left me with 3 little green tablets which he said were LSD. HOTDAMNDOG!! "Don't do them all at once" was the sage advise - as he left me with a 23 year old crazy motel manager whilst he frolicked with the TWINS. (Hi, Brother!) I think I waited for about twelve minutes after his departure to take the first hit. This was the initial time I had dropped acid. "Take me there, Baby! Wherever THERE is!!!!!" (I took all three hits in four days.) It was pretty cool. The radio hallucinated at me. I about wore out a ball point pen making spirals on a notebook page. I was exceedingly alert and then I slept.

The next day, though, I had the Experience. Tripping out of my gourd on the second hit, I was in the motel pool when the rain began. I saw Every. Single. Rain. Drop. I saw the relationship. We are one. The ocean accepts all rivers. My mind was literally expanded that day. That night, Tom took nude group photos of me and Alex and three other people that I do not remember. Sixteen and trippin' and drinking Coor's brought from Over the Mississippi AND gettin' our picture took. (Tom, where are those negatives???) And how would these folks be prosecuted today?

It is a hard thing to explain, how that experience changed me. It was a pivot point in my creation. The why of the me of today.

To see the connectedness of all things, instead of the separateness of US from THEM that the Baptists taught. I am no Alan Watts. I can't describe it, but I lived it and try to live it still.

I think the last time I did LSD was at the premier of Star Wars thirty years ago. The Pyg (aka Pygmalion, the first husband) and I saw the second showing of the much anticipated movie at Loew's Tara in Atlanta. GoodGodAlmighty! I was twenty. Ushers were actually selling cups and frisbees and stuff to the people in line, as souvenirs. It was like two in the afternoon on a Friday. And hot. We were much too broke to buy such crap. Dope - that shit, was affordable. Always. The movie, of course, as time has told, was great! So exhilarating! After having sat in about the third row of seats in the middle of the theatre, and seeing the best western movie EVER MADE - I annihilated a lot of the enemy out the car window on the way home. Not so much a spiritual adventure, except for maybe killing a lot of the enemy. I'm a good shot.

I FELT IT

It's hot and windy in Lovely LAconia today. Clouds have moved in during the afternoon, but no rain is expected until maybe tomorrow. Maybe. The farmers are worried.

One of the things I decided that would add some zip to my festival display was various and creative uses of my fiber. (Not everyone spins, dammit.) Last year at Maryland, I bought Carol Huber Cypher's book Hand Felted Jewelry and Beads, read quickly through it and promptly put it in the bookcase. Until this week.

I can't say I care for many of Carol's designs. The mere idea of wearing felt jewelry makes me sweat. Felt flowers for my hairdo, on the other hand, I could imagine. So I gathered the required bubble wrap, plastic, towels and soapy hot water, along with some pink, purple and green bits of wool and silk. The technique wasn't hard and thirty minutes later, I had this.



It was actually rather fun. It was nice to do something besides knit and spin. (I have been trying to work up to sewing some clothing for quite awhile since I still have 45 yards of silk noil waiting and much of my current wardrobe is strangely shrinking.)(Don't hold your breath.)

The spinning and knitting, by the way, of the current shawl is proceeding. This one is uncharacteristically monotone, at least once knit up. The original fiber was browns and pinks with dashes of gold, blue and purple. (I'm positive that the border will contrast.)



So anyway, as the one flower dried, I studied it and began mentally designing a myriad of others in fantastic shapes and colors. I make no promises, but if more do materialize, I will let you all know.

a joke

Q: How many hipsters does it take to screw in a light bulb?

A: What? You don't know?

Also, I want to credit Found Magazine for the deeply wonderful Bunnee drawing.

Tomb Stones

Between us, Sweetie and I have buried three bunnies since Friday.

The first was one of the five babies - he asphyxiated in a burrow, snuggled up behind another baby. That one was almost gone, too, but was revived and survived. Nobody ever said that bunnies were the sharpest knives in the drawer, but at least this little dumb one went to sleep to never awake.

Whilst I was in Franklin, Quentin of Wry Neck passed on.

Also whilst in Franklin, Stubby's hindquarters were somehow affected. Either he was injured or was somehow ill. Today the town dogs broke his neck because he couldn't move fast enough. This was just after a phone conversation with Sweetie about whether we should cage the Little Warrior or not. Damn. Stubby was a love and I cried hard.



Tomorrow, we build a fence. I am ashamed that we are such slack asses that it takes something like this to get us motivated to build the fence that we have planned to erect for at least two years.

We Back

It was a mixed weekend, a give and take, a ying and yang.

The festival was, for the second year, sparsely attended and many other vendors I spoke with, but not all, said that sales were meager. After my expenses of motel and gas, plus product cost, not including my time, I broke even.

On the plus side, my booth came with excellent lighting and it's own ceiling fan. I made new friends, bought sock yarn, made trades and came away with ideas to improve my presentation. I received pleasing comments about my fiber and the two shawls that I was able to display on the clean white walls.

Considering that I had not worked hard in the preceding weeks to prepare, and that I had miscalculated the date, the fact that I got my shit together and made it there at all is remarkable.

By way of cookie magic, I discovered that my blog has been nominated for best knitting blog name, by whom, I do not know and actually, for what purpose, I do not know.

But it is still cool.

uh oh

Sometimes I don't know how I can screw up my existence any worse. And then I do.

The Franklin, Indiana Hoosier Hills Fiberarts Festival is THIS WEEKEND. Not a couple of weeks away.

I am taking what I have, fiber wise, and five bunnies. Wish me luck.