“Big Boucherouite” here. Yes, you read that right. I AM the large rug that she’s currerntly hooking. Constantly. At least it feels that way. I hardly ever get alone time. Anyway, as she’s still working on me day and night, I decided to provide a few notes regarding where she’s at in this project.
See what I mean about the dog? Oh, and that idea of strategic photography?
She’s been watching a LOT of television during the day. I tried to tell her to get some books on tape, but she goes on and on about having to get through a NOVAback-up, that she’s got to free-up space on the DVR. Fine. Her husband, of course, insists on watching them with her, though I’ve noticed that he tends to use them to catch up on his sleep.
NOVA sounds nice and erudite, sure, but that wasn’t on till midnight last night. No, that would be…Ice Castles. Yes, the Robby Benson movie from 1978, when she was 13. Apparently, she even read the book back then. It was on some TV station for lost movies. Some movies should remain lost…
She does take some breaks. It seems to be rather necessary. Hooking so much woven fabric is taking a toll on the joints. As is sitting under me. I’m rather heavy at this point. I tell her to do some yoga. Does she listen to me? Sometimes.
She’s still going on and on about not having enough orange sheets to fill my background, that she had to breakdown and use t-shirts. Who gives a damn? That they’re used textiles being recycled to a higher purpose – me! – it’s fine. That’s the Boucherouite spirit.
Her dog keeps sitting on me determined to earn a snack. Someone needs to tell him that she’s barely taking any photographs of me. I deserve a BIG REVEAL and not until I’m properly hooked and hemmed.
Lastly, regarding actually finishing me in order to enter me into Albuquerque’s Fiber Arts Fiesta by the March 1 deadline, let’s hear it for the idea of STRATEGIC PHOTOGRAPHY. And you all make sure that your submissions are in by sometime Friday too.
Look for my debut on Instagram and Facebook in the near future, and I’ll see you May 30 and 31 and June 1 at Fiber Fiesta!
Hey, it’s me, EVFAC’s Miss February, AKA, their artist of the month for February. I hope to see you Saturday in Española. Feel free to send a representative if you can’t make it.
Miss February here, but come Saturday I’ll be up in Españolaat the Española Valley Fiber Arts Center (EVFAC). Why? you ask. Actually, there are two good reasons, two very good reasons you might want to join me:
1. I’m teaching a class!
Chances are, if you read this blog, you’re already a rug hooker. Or you’ve developed an interest in hooked rugs, thought that you might even want to try hooking one yourself. This is your chance! Don’t wait, carpe hook! I’ll be running an introductory workshop, 10-2, this Saturday, February 16. It’s called: Hook a rug – Save the planet. You are very welcome to join us. No experience necessary; you don’t even need to bring anything (though some scissors would be helpful). Click for details on EVFAC’s website.
2. I’m giving a little presentation on what rug hooking’s like today.
When I’m out and about vending, folks stop by regularly to tell me how once upon a time they watched their mother or grandfather hooking rugs. Some even cut wool strips or pulled a loop or two. Like all things, rug hooking’s evolved since then. Mostly. Come on by EVFAC at 2:30, Saturday (yes, after the class lets out), and we can chat about the changes I’ve seen in the 15 or so years that I’ve been hooking. After that you can shop and see what other opportunities EVFAC has for the fiber-inclined.
This week’s sneak peak at “What’s on the frame.” Of course, it’s the “Big Boucherouite.” Last week’s guild retreat gave me a chance to get a lot of the center done. But the March 1 deadline looms large. If you come Saturday, you can see the “Big Boucherouite” in the flesh!
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.
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.
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!
A saguaro close-up.
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!
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????
This is the view looking over Tucson from near the tree. Quite…expansive.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.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.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.
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.)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.A view of the Snake River down at the Visitor Center.
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?
Of course, can’t live without a shot of the river on the other side of the bridges.
And yet another one of the Canyon after we’d crossed the bridge and started to climb out of the Salt River Canyon.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!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.
She’s still not letting me sit on her current rug, the “Big Boucherouite,” and get a treat for sharing it with you, but she’s got this tiny photo for you. Looks like all the others if you ask me
Tynan the traveling dog
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.
Author Tynan here. You know, I’ll be 11 this year, and I’ve only recently been allowed the pleasure of hotel beds. This one belongs to my friend Nan. She took the photo while I was spending a little time with her Friday evening. I look gooood. Tucson was terrific!
Tuscon was terrific! The idiots sidelined me less than usual; even better, I was allowed into happy hour at the hotel! And they had a popcorn machine! One of my ladies Mary R. brought doggie bagels for me too. And Nan babysat me for a while Friday night while the idiots went for some food. (They did NOT bring any back for me. 🙁 )
Because the mistress is rushed this week getting her rugs ready to take up to the Española Valley Fiber Arts Center (EVFAC to you and me), and typing is difficult for me given my lack of thumbs, this is an abbreviated post. She insists that next week, I’ll be able to tell you all about our Arizona road trip. Okay, and the Old Pueblo Rug Hookers’ hook-in too.But I was allowed to post a couple of photos to whet your whistles.
Again, just to make you eager for my post next week, here’s one of the mistress and me up on Mount Lemmon in Tucson. What a view. And there was snow!
This week’s TINY VIEW of “What’s on the frame.” Yep, she’s finally starting to fill in some of the “Big Boucherouite.” It’s looking pretty cool.
She’s insisting that I suggest strongly that you make your own road trip up to Españolastarting Saturday. The scenery’s beautiful up in that part of the state what with the snow on the mountains and all. There’s New Mexican food there at El Paragua. Oh, and don’t forget to see her “window” at EVFAC. Don’t forget too – she’ll be teaching a 4-hour introductory rug hooking class on Saturday, February 16. We hope to see you! (As if they’ll let me in.)
Okay, she wanted me to put this picture up. It’s of the finally completely finished t-shirt rug she calls “Kleeful (Autumn).” The other thing in the picture is a jar. She’s taking it, the rug, not the jar, with us to Tucson to show off, because isn’t that what they’re all doing there at this hook-in thing? Besides buying even more rug stuff, I mean. Wouldn’t her money be better spent on dog treats?
So, the idiots tell me we’re off to Tucsoncome Thursday. And NOT because their anniversary is tomorrow and we’re celebrating somewhere warmer than Albuquerque. No, it’s a rug hooking event, something she calls a hook-in. (Stupid name.) Apparently, some folks called the Old Pueblo Rug Hookers hold it. She goes every year leaving him and me at home. Bored.
Not this year; we leave Thursday morning, so we can be there by dinner (I love dinner) that evening. Eight hours in the car each way. And just like that, it’s October once more, and we’re back on the road again… They insist that I will not be left in the car while they do fun things without me, that we’ll go hiking. This remains to be seen.
Personally, I think that she wants me along so that he’s distracted after she buys all the crap she usually wins buys at the hook-in’s silent auction. (That and Darlene’s in Florida and isn’t available to dog-sit.) Two out of three years she’s come home with yet another frame! I tell you this, no frame is taking up my seat in the car. If it doesn’t fit, she’ll just have to get one of hooker friends to take it home in their car.
So, here I am, her little prop doggie. I think I deserve a better title. Marketing Manager? Top Dog? She told me to tell you that this is the only little section of the “Big Boucherouite” you’re seeing this week. At least you’re seeing more color. Not that the color-blind Marketing Manager is though.
Never fear, I will be recording everything on this Tucson trip and will report back to you. Follow me on my High on Hooking’s Instagram/Facebookfeeds in the meantime. You’ll see what I have to put up with.
