Category: alcohol

January 10, 2022

The pain of it all

The start of 2022’s been a little hazy with pain. On December 19, preparing for company and the holidays, something happened to my hip/back. Initially, we thought it had to do with a new med I’d just started for migraines, which would’ve been really sad as it seems to be working. No daily headaches can really brighten your day, let me tell you! Long story short, I tried my usual yoga and the chiropractor, no real relief. But friends and family and sparkly Christmas lights (and good bottles of

Photograph of clown in pain — “Pierrot in Pain,” albumen silver print from glass negative by Adrien Tournachon, person in photograph = Jean-Charles Deburau, 1854-55, from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, in the public domain.

wine) go a long way to distract one from the pain. Unfortunately, last week, it all went south, and we headed to the ER located conveniently up the hill from the house. Thought we found the answer there (after 7 hours of possible Covid exposure!), but NO. Talked to a number of my providers over a couple of days, but in the end, because medical practices of all kinds are overrun by the Coronacootie, I had to settle for an appointment later in the month with my rheumatologist.

But then there was Saturday and Dr…YouTube! While I’m always cautioning Tom and the kid about relying on and trusting Dr. Google, I was desperate. I was also starting to think that it was actually more of a mechanical problem rather than something internal. Long story longer, it looks like a really bad case of sciatica, much worse than anything I dealt with when I was pregnant all those years ago. (The kid’ll be 25 this year.) Did the right exercises and some targeted yoga, more ice, then fired up the hot tub. Life was much better by Saturday evening. I slept well for the first time in weeks. A couple of days later and I’ve backslid, but I think I’ve turned the first BIG corner. It’ll take awhile, but soon Bowyn and I hope to be back to our early morning walks in the Bosque.

What bothered me most – besides the pain and limited mobility, of course – was losing so much time making, creating. After all the holiday hoopla, by New Year’s I’m ready to hunker down with my journal/sketchbook and supplies to make new stuff. There’s a stitching project I’ve been mulling on for 2022; it needed more fleshing out. That didn’t happen. I wanted to start a new “Baby Boucherouite” to use in my In the Studio Workshop Week 4 class on January 30. Getting to draw that out today. Finally.

I did manage to finish the Angel of 2022, but haven’t gotten her up to the Etsy shop. Photographed her just yesterday. During that demoralizing Patriots game.

Hooked rug, hooked art — THE MIGHTY ONE, THE ANGEL OF 2022. Hooked with old t-shirts, plastic bags, gold lamé, and a wee bit of wool.

But I had a little epiphany in the hot tub Saturday evening. Maybe it was just the chardonnay whispering in a picture-perfect New Mexico sunset and a bubbly 103º, but it did tell me how great life is and can be when you stop and rest for a bit. Sure, there’s Omicron and all, but the folks in my bubble are all vaxxed and boosted, so it’s unlikely any of us will die if/when we catch Covid. The world won’t end if my yearlong project doesn’t start till February. Or because I haven’t hit 10,000 steps in three weeks.

Why is it that we need a crisis to remind us that we can’t control everything? And while we’re dealing with sed crisis, the rest of our lives rarely fall apart. Completely at least. The reality is that having time off from working out every morning has let me linger at breakfast reading the paper and having another cup of tea. Not racing onto the next rug has given me more time to practice crocheting. And Tom’s been taking good care of me, though I’m not sure if that’ll extend to encouraging the purchase of a pair of “pity shoes.” (I’ll let you know.)

“Acute Pain,” by Thomas Rowlandson, 1800, from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, in the public domain.

I beg you to learn from my pain-filled experience. Or don’t; feel free to enjoy your own. LOL. In this new year, take a little time to slow down before you break down. Remember that you cannot control the world, not even your own little part necessarily. You definitely can’t control people, not the ones on TV or Facebook or even the ones in your family. Just do what you need to do for you. Because if you don’t put that oxygen mask on first, you certainly can’t help someone else with theirs.

High on Hooking dog with crocheted and hooked art — Bowyn implores you: ” For the love of God, take care of yourself. Who the hell else will walk us?” Meanwhile, for a price, he shows off the things I’ve worked on in the past couple of weeks.

Which leads us into an advertisement for WORKSHOP WEEK 4 kicking off Sunday January with a class and panel discussion led by Susan Feller. Classes are filling, some are to capacity. Now is the time to do something for yourself. At home; no Covid exposure needed! We’ve got nine workshops running, all very different, not all involving hooking. Find more INFO HERE or send an email to me at Laura@highonhooking.com.

In the meantime, take a look at our Instagram page. The various artists/teachers have been taking over the account these past few weeks in order that you might get to know us. If you’re interested in a class or just someone’s pics, take the time to message or email them. You never know where a new skill or just a new contact might take you in 2022…

September 8, 2020

Come to the Alt Fibers Hook-In October 14!

Been hoping to attend a hook-in?

Hooked rug — Up close and personal with “Autumn’s Coming.” The pumpkin is hooked using wool strips and yarn and recycled t-shirts. The background is primarily cotton batik. See it in the **Etsy shop**.

Between my workshop last month and social media chatter, it appears that many are interested in hooking fibers other than (or at least as well as) wool. Again, there’s nothing wrong with wool; in fact, the current rug on my frame is hooked with wool strips and yarn. I will say that the latter allows for easier breathing given my wool dust allergy.

All this being so and seeing how everyone is missing HOOKING TOGETHER, I’m offering an Alt Fibers Hook-In on Wednesday, October 14, at 7:00 PM Eastern, which makes it 5:00 Mountain time, my time. Evening should be a little more relaxing, though, unfortunately, the event must be BYOB.

What you’ll need to bring to the Alt Fibers Hook-In:

A hook;
A hooking project;
Your “fun” fibers – and wool can come too;
Your beverage and snacks of choice; and
Enthusiasm, questions, tales (tall or not).

This is not a class, but a time for give and take with one another. A time to share what might have worked for you. A time to ask if anyone has experience with ______. A time to have some fun.

DETAILS

Hook-In will run WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 14, 7:00-9:00 PM Eastern.

Tynan invites you to the Alt Hook-In. He also presents this week’s “What’s on the Frame?” It’s a commission being done in wool strips and wool yarn. He apologizes for his summer absence from the blog. (As he calls me dirty names.)

Hook-in will be held online through Zoom. Upon registration and payment, the Zoom link and password will be sent via email.

There is a COST of $10 to help defray my Zoom account costs.

Hook-In will be limited to 20 people.

For more information or to register, please email me at Laura@highonhooking.com.

Both Tynan and I hope that you can come. (But don’t tell Bowyn!)

February 19, 2019

Looking for rug love in the wine store…

Wine bottle label. — I have no idea who the artist is. Maybe you know? But isn’t it beautiful? Okay, wine is beautiful too.

Rug love in the wine store?

I’ll explain. I’m having a busy week. Big surprise, I know. But I was trying to figure out something new and exciting (and quick) to write about when Tom and I headed out to the liquor store. A snowstorm was taking aim at Albuquerque, and we were running low. Before you scoff, I’m from New England and lived through the Blizzard of ’78; snow forecasts = a run to the ~~grocery~~ store. By the way, we got almost an inch and a half today. I know, wow.

So, we’re in Total Wine, and I remember how I’ve gotten rug ideas from wine labels. Some of them are so creative, even beautiful. Then I thought that maybe you need rug ideas right about now. Especially for those of you back east and in the midwest who will live through your own winter storm tonight and tomorrow. Enjoy!

Wine bottle labels. — Another of Sean’s gorgeous and fun wine bottles.

Whiskey bottle label. — Okay, I’ll end with a pic of the elusive **jackalope** gracing this bottle of **whiskey**. Now something like this could make it onto a rug. And don’t lecture me about the pesky copyright laws. I know all about them. Have a great week. Maybe I’ll pour myself a ~~bottle~~ glass of wine now…

February 5, 2019

I am a traveling dog…

Tynan the traveling dog in Hatch, NM — Can’t we ever just walk by weird things? Of course, not. (I remind you of the **Uranus Fudge Factory** she made us stop at in Missouri.) Notice she’s holding my head so that I’ll look at the camera. Anyway, this is Hatch,across the street from the famous Sparky’s Restaurant with its aromatic smoke.

Tynan the traveling dog back for a third week! Woof! Unfortunately, the idiots have no plans for us to go anywhere anytime soon. Bummer. But, as promised, I thought I’d catch you up on our Arizona trip, show you how I added a state to my repertoire, as it were.

If you’re not all caught up, check last week’s post, a quick summary of the trip, then sit back in your armchair while I drive for a change.

We left Albuquerque on Thursday, January 2, by about 10:00. The time was more tailored to ensure lunch at Sparky’s in Hatch, the chile capitol of the world. He’d never eaten there. Me, I got to sit in the car while the smoke coming from all those burgers and pork wafted in through the cracked car windows strangling me with its perfect aroma. It was not an auspicious start for the trip. In retaliation, when they ~~waddled~~ walked me around later, I peed on Sparky’s. Not my finest moment, I admit, but peeing on my people really wouldn’t have worked. Then they made pose for pictures in front of the kitschy stuff near the restaurant. Whatever.

At last we were off again. It’s a long ride to Tucson, and I snoozed through most of it. Finally, we arrived at our destination, the Best Western-Tucson Foothills. Apparently, she and my lady friends from the Adobe Wool Arts Guild (AWAG) prefer this place when they make their annual pilgrimage to the Old Pueblo Rug Hookers Hook-In. (Hook-in, yes they really call it that.) There is a reason for their fealty to this particular hotel: free booze! Yep, the place provides a gratis happy hour (more like three hours), and you know they aren’t passing by that. Wouldn’t you know it, we arrived during sed happy hour. So off to the “cafe” we go thinking the idiots will pick up a glass of quaffable, free wine and sit outside or, more realistically as the sun was already going down, head back to the room to drink then argue over who would go back to get the next round.

Tynan the traveling dog on the hotel bed. — Best Western-Tucson Foothills: Four paws up for the comfy bed. Pity the master kicked me off every single night once his **World of Warcraft** character bit the big one (over and over).

But then the beautiful bartendress sees me, and she says these magical words: “Oh, he’s so cute, Of course, he can stay.” She caresses my chin and whispers, “Would you like to go home with me? I can give you your own downy hotel bed, barbecue on demand…” Sorry, I digress there, maybe fantasize a bit. The point is I was invited in to happy hour all weekend. Nice touch, Best Western-Tucson Foothills. Oh, especially, that popcorn machine. Loved the popcorn machine!

Drinks drunk, we head back to the room so the idiots can rest. (Wow, tough day: eating, driving, and drinking.) Anyway, he takes over the desk with his laptop; she and I claim the bed. This traveling dog is really starting to love human hotel beds. They’re lower than the one back home, and they’re BIG! She doesn’t care if I take 2/3s of it. Very comfy.

Saguaro cacti in the Coronado National Forest. — On the way up to Mount Lemmon in the **Coronado National Forest**. Check out all the crazy **saguaro cacti**! Have you ever seen so many in one place? They even constitute a cactus forest!

Next day, we’re off to Mount Lemmon, Tucson’s tallest mountain. Back maybe 16 summers ago, they were vacationing in Tucson, checking it out for possible future residence. They tried to drive up but were turned back by officials. The mountain was on fire. Not this time! Of course, we had to drive in stops and starts since she had to take all her freaking pictures. Fortunately, there was some pretty spectacular scenery. And I got to get out of the car!

Rock formations on Mount Lemmon. — The topography changed on our way up to Mount Lemmon. The cacti gave way to juniper bushes and then pines. There were interesting rock formations on the way up. You could climb on them!

Cool tree on Mount Lemmon. — She captured this old tree for her friend Karen Miller of **Karen D. Miller Studio** in Ontario. I know why I’m fascinated with trees, but them????

View from Mount Lemmon of Tucson. — This is the view looking over Tucson from near the tree. Quite…expansive.

Mount Lemmon Ski Area. — This is what a **skiing area** looks like in…Tucson. We saw three people ski across that hill. Three. Can you say “ice”? Unfortunately, the rest of the road to the top was blocked here with snow. No telescopes for us. But we got pretty close.

Man in front of restuarant. — The master after a fine lunch at the **Iron Door Restaurant** across the street from Mount Lemmon Ski Valley. Notice that I am not in the photograph. Perhaps someone should alert the authorities regarding how often they leave me in a vehicle while they stuff their faces.

Tynan the traveling dog on snow hike. — After lunch on the mountain, the pudgy ones decided to work some of it off with a hike. I’m always good with that. And unlike them, I miss snow, so this was a fine activity.

That night, my AWAG ladies finally showed up at the hotel. At happy hour, of course. Mary R. brought me gifts, and…the popcorn machine was working! Nan watched me while the idiots went for food. She let me on her bed. I love Nan. Plus, she brings toys for me when she comes to our house.

Saturday morning, we drop the mistress off at the La Paloma Country Club for the hook-in. Looked like a swanky place for something with such a stupid name. He tells her not to spend so much at the silent auction this year. Right. (Later she called not breaking $100 a win. He did not.)

Back to that day, he decides to take us to some park; he’s already forgotten the name. (At least she wouldn’t have done that.) We get out of the car. Something is not right. He wonders why I don’t want to do the usual who-peed-here sniffs, but something smells really bad at this park. “Come on, ” he tells me not particularly patiently. He calls me squirrely, mocks me with that word. But I’m trying to tell him, I think there are f-ing rattlesnakes here! They paid for me to have that hateful training, but it did work. I smell their dirty asses (not that I’m exactly sure where a snake keeps its ass). Finally, he’s fed up with me; we turn around. There is a god! We head back to my favorite Best Western. Frankly, I think he just wanted to get back to his stupid laptop and World of Warcraft. Whatever, I got the bed to myself.

That night we do happy hour with the girls again. Folks fawn over me especially when they hear what he did to me. I appreciate that. Sunday morning we’re off for home. She gets an idea that she wants to take a different route, not the one we came on. He’s skeptical, but of course, she wins. We turn the car to the north. At first it’s nice, sleep-inducing. We stop at McDonald’s for their “quality” brunch, then get into some more remote country. I’ll let the pictures (she took soooo many) tell the story.

El Capitan Pass in Arizona. — Excuse me for waxing poetic, but you have to drive around this great country of ours to really appreciate how big and beautiful it is. This is **El Capitan Pass** in Arizona. Things were getting pretty desolate out here, and no, there was absolutely no cell service to call AAA. (We were in another rental; he didn’t dare risk driving his ancient Honda Accord on this trip. She wouldn’t have let him forget it if the damn thing broke down.)

Snake River Canyon in Arizona. — Okay, this killed about an hour, but she insisted it was worth taking all the photos then hanging at the visitor center. While they’ve been to and even hiked down the Grand Canyon farther north and west, they didn’t know crap about the **Salt River Canyon**. It and the many switch-backs it took to get down to the river were admittedly impressive.

Snake River in Arizona. — A view of the Snake River down at the Visitor Center.

Traveling dog at Snake River in Arizona. — A view of us practically under the old and the new bridges where Route 60 crosses the Snake River. How many of pictures can one person take of the same thing?

And yet another one of the Canyon after we’d crossed the bridge and started to climb out of the Salt River Canyon.

Cliffs in New Mexico. — Finally! We get to something in New Mexico! And it was suitably impressive. These cliffs and rock formations were in the **El Malpais National Monument**. (They didn’t know anything about that either.) Driving through there was even more desolate than going through Arizona. Again, thank God for the rental car!

Malpais arch. — Incredible as **La Ventana Arch** is, she didn’t spend a ton of time outside, though she still took way too many shots. It was cold and windy; she was dressed for Tucson. Ha! It’s always good to wear just one outfit your entire life. Me, I’m ready for anything in my naturally red and white fur coat.

At least we made it home before dark, and now I’m coming to terms with my lack of hotel beds and popcorn machines.

I hope she’ll let me come back again sooner than later. I enjoy sharing my travels with you. And you make good witnesses as to how the idiots treat me.

Later,

Tynan the traveling dog

May 1, 2018

Cinco de Mayo, margaritas, and rugs, oh my!

Cinco de Mayo Folk Art Fest poster

You know, when I lived in New England, we never combined Cinco de Mayo and rug hooking. Rarely even margaritas and rug hooking. We ain’t living in ~~Kansas~~ Massachusetts any more, señor! Saturday, Cathy Kelly and I will be under our joint tent selling rugs (and doing demos, of course) at the 11th annual Cinco de Mayo Folk Art Fest here in Albuquerque. If you’re local, stop by. It’s happening right at La Parada and Farm & Table. There’ll be music pretty much all day, and Farm & Table will be offering food and beverages on their patio. That would be where the margaritas come in. And if I don’t manage to get one there, Tom will have one or three waiting for me when I get home. Woohoo! (And, trust me, he doesn’t skimp on the tequila. His margaritas are yet another reason that I had to marry this man.)

hooked rug to be offered for sale at Cinco de Mayo Folk Art Fest — While technically it’s not on the frame, this week’s “What’s on the frame” offering shows that __________ (no name decided on yet, hooked with recycled bedsheets) is almost done. Just have to sit down to hem it. That WILL happen much sooner than later as it must be ready for sale at Saturday’s Cinco de Mayo Folk Art Fest. Hope to see you there! The weather’s supposed to be warm and sunny.