Tynan and this week’s rug on the frame, which has been the rug on the frame for a few weeks. So close… Gotta finish it for Saturday’s Sunflower Festival.
As you can tell by the look in Tynan’s eyes, I have NOT finished the Boucherouite-esque rug yet. Yes, I am very close, but here’s the thing: I need it completely done for Friday evening when I pack the car for Saturday’s vending gig. That gig would be the Sunflower Festival in Mountainair, about an hour and a half southeast of Albuquerque.
The Sunflower Festival is supposed to be a fun time, and I’m looking forward to it. But I’d feel a hell of a lot better if the rug was done NOW! See, I have a few other things to do this week. Ironically, they’re all hooking related. Thursday, I’m hooking with friends. I considered staying home, hopefully, sewing up sed rug, but then they pressured me, told me they were making gluten-free items for lunch. Who blows off friends like that? (Or the GF food?)
Friday, Cathy Kelly is teaching some of us in the guild a yarn-dyeing method that’s done with a microwave oven. We’re dyeing yarn rather than wool fabric, so it really appeals to me. Check out the yarn she brought in to entice us into learning the technique. Yum!
Yarn dyed by Cathy Kelly. Not sure if I’ll hook with mine or use it in some crocheting project.
So, somewhere during the next two or three days, I need to finish hooking the rug, steam it, and hem it. Then price and tag it and enter it into the inventory log. Agh! Oh, and pack the mobile store into the car, adding a tent and leaving room for Tynan. Since we’ll be gone all day Saturday, he gets to go. While I love his company in the booth, he does have a habit of upstaging the merchandise. Maybe I can get him to demo the “Woof” rug while he schmoozes with potential customers.
Gotta run now, have to hook!
PS: Check out the home page; we’ve added two other shows to the vending line-up.
If you’re local or happen to be in New Mexico Saturday, come on down to Mountainair’s Sunflower Festival. Mention this blog article and get 10% off the rug of your choice!
It looks like it’s finally going to happen. I’m getting a studio. Woohoo! It’s been five months since the child moved out, leaving an empty bedroom. Tom repainted the room last week while I was at my guild’s retreat (what a great husband I have!). So, we should be a go.
The two pics below show what we’re starting with:
Studio construction zone. That mess on the right is part of my mobile shop.
The soon-to-be studio, otherwise known as a bedroom. Yes, those are t-shirts that were donated to my cause sitting in that laundry basket.
Okay, it’s not a completely empty bedroom. Some of the child’s clothing and her dresser remain here, as her apartment situation is not good for storage. Not a problem. I still have my kick-ass closet.
For those not familiar with my kick-ass closet and laundry room, they’re where I currently store all my fibers (t-shirts, wool, bed sheets, ribbons, etc.) and other rug hooking paraphernalia. I wrote about it here not long after we moved into this house almost two years ago. If you look at those pics, I can tell you that the real estate, while still fabulous, does NOT look like that these days. Between all the hooking I’ve been doing for various sales opportunities and the fact that my RA has been kicking my ass all summer long (thank goodness that my hands don’t take the brunt of it), continued organization has not been taking place. And, frankly, I’ve just got too much stuff. When people hear that you can make art with their old t-shirts, their kids’ and husbands’ old t-shirts, you get gifted a lot. Not that I’m complaining. At all.
Fortunately, we’ve got a room I can use. The closet can take back any overflow. And I can move linens I regularly use to a spot not requiring a stepstool. In the meantime, I need to do some second-hand shopping for furniture and storage units of some kind. A daybed (or a single bed overflowing with comfy pillows) will give me guest room if I need it. I’m really missing the big Ikea shelving units we had in our house in Massachusetts. Of course, Ikea has no presence anywhere in New Mexico. Boo! Now if I can only muster up the energy to head to the many thrift stores here in Albuquerque.
Still working on plenty of hooking, though. Below is the friendship rug I drew up Saturday. Ostensibly, tomorrow I will turn it over to a member of my guild and not see it till sometime next year. Nine of us are participating in the project. We’ll all hook about 64 square inches (8″x8″ or some similar permutation…) of each other’s rugs. The plan is to have a rug for one month and then switch. We’ll see how that goes.
“Wild flowers…for wild women,” reads my friendship rug. (Because we all know how wild hookers can be. Drinking all that tea, listening to all that folk music.) Can’t wait to fill in all that background. Oh, and the letters too, of course.
Last, but not least, I did not forget Tynan or the Boucherouite-esque rug that’s still on the frame. (The friendship rug’s gotten in the way of my hooking.) I’m hoping to finish it by next week.
I’m loving this “bedsheet Boucherouite” rug. Check out how the orange goes with the other colors. Very fun this one is.
How do you deal with or without a studio? Work strewn all about the house? A hooker’s hide-away (you know, like a man-cave). Share your pics here or on the High on Hooking facebook page.
Boucherouite rugs are my new passion! Sort of. See, I was going through my Pinterest pins – I put tons of things up on Pinterest for for later use (far more than I’ll ever be able to use) –
Vintage Boucherouite rug offered for sale on Etsy by Shkoon.
looking for inspiration for my next hooked rug and somehow I came across Boucherouite rugs. I must have been in my Indigenous Art folderor something and one thing led to another. Anyway, these rugs are colorful geometrics, very rustic-looking. Right up my alley!
Doing a little research, I found out that the Boucherouite rugs, also called carpets, are woven by Berber women in North Africa (often Morocco). They recycle old textiles and clothing to create one-of-a-kind rugs. Ah…sound familiar? Apparently, they became quite the home decor rage a few years ago. This blog post by Decor8 gave a nice overview back in 2013. (I am sooo behind the times…)
Looking at them, the rugs reminded me of how woven bedsheets hook up, so it seemed a natural extension to draw out something on the monks’ cloth that approximated a Boucherouite. Tynan’s showing you below what I came up with. It’s not a floor rug this time, but a table runner. I’ve got basic colors in mind, and I will use primarily bedsheets, but I plan on making a lot of it up as I go along. Please join Tynan and me on the journey. More next week…
In the meantime, where do you look for artistic inspiration? Favorite sources? Please share them with us in the comment section below.
Tynan presents “What’s on the Frame Today.” It will eventually be my hooked “Boucherouite” table runner.
Tynan the Welsh Springer Spaniel here. After using my likeness so many times to sell rugs, she finally let me write the damn blog. I’m choosing to tell you all about my, I mean, our trip to Pagosa Springs, Colorado, last week.
First thing to get off my chest: Freaking cheapskates should’ve sprung for the whole week at the condo. First time in two years I get out of New Mexico (sure, she’s jaunted off to Tucson two Januarys in a row to rug hook), and they give me just four nights away and out of the desert heat. Arses, both of them.
Monday:
The master and I leaving the Wines of the San Juan Winery in Blanco, New Mexico. There are two bottles in that purple bag he’s carrying. And nothing for me.
So, the ride from Albuquerque to Pagosa Springs is just under four hours IF you take the most direct route. Do we take the most direct route? NOOOOoooo. Hey, I’m as good a car traveler as any other dog, but it’s still not my most favorite activity. (Favorite activities involve food and belly rubs.) Did they ask me about driving the long way just so’s they could visit a winery? NOOOooo. The Wines of the San Juan place was in the middle of nowhere. Really. But they were good people and even let me in the tasting room. Someone could’ve tossed me a pretzel, but at least there was AC. Apparently, my humans liked the wines because they picked up a bottle of the Serendipity Merlot and another of the Rosé of Dolcetto. Do they know how many Frosty Paws they could’ve bought for the same price?
Since we’re almost always in the middle of nowhere in New Mexico and Colorado – most of the ride was two-lane highway – they are so lucky I don’t puke in cars. More importantly, there was nowhere to stop for lunch. Okay, the chances of them buying me lunch are pretty much a big goose egg, but a dog can dream. I could tell she was getting a little cranky. All those pretzels he ate in the winery were definitely NOT gluten-free. She got nothing. Just like me. Ha!
The ride was kind of cool, especially as we moved from the high desert browns and tans and the juniper greens to the lush pines and aspens and all that grass on the cattle ranches. Man, being from Massachusetts, I’ve never seen so many cattle ranches. I’m not complaining. Who bitches about steak…on the hoof? She took tons of pictures – far more than any one person needs, if you ask me, which no one ever does – like she always does, even made him stop the car so she could get out and focus better. Perhaps I would’ve liked to have stretched my legs too. Nah, I just wanted to get there. Besides, I had the whole backseat to myself. At least they put my comfiest bed on it.
Part of Chimney Rock National Monument just west of Pagosa Springs. We didn’t go here, just drove by it a couple of times. But I think a return trip is going to happen.
Finally, I can tell we’re getting close to the place. They start discussing groceries and whether it’s cool enough to leave me in the car while they run in to pick up dinner stuff. I HATE it when they leave me in the car. Or at least that’s what I let them believe. So’s I start my usual whining and crying when they turn into the parking lot. Hunger clearly doesn’t agree with them; they tell me to shut up. What I put up with. I lie down in my bed perfectly comfy.
The view from the condo’s deck. Nice. Just look at all that green grass.
Fortunately, it doesn’t take them long, and even better, the condo’s less than a minute from the grocery store! They don’t even leash me when we get out of the car! The place was great! Surrounded by all this long, green grass. Real grass, not that fake shit we’ve got in our backyard back in Albuquerque. I pee (of course) then rub my face and whole body in the grass. So soft, so cool after those 105° days during the heatwave in the desert. Reminds me of the old place back in Massachusetts that we left behind. With the chipmunks which we don’t have in Albuquerque. I miss chipmunks, though the little punk geckos are pretty fun to hunt. But I digress.
The condo freaked me out a bit when we first got there. Strange sounds; damn, my own toenails sounded so loud on the fake wood floor. And I had to be careful all the time or I’d slip. I much prefer carpet. The deck was pretty cool. Real wood. I liked hanging out there, but I wish they’d have let me off to catch that stupid cat that sashayed by.
That night we went out to dinner at Kip’s. It was great. They bought me a plate of fish tacos. NOT! I sat in the car then got to hear about the tacos and fresh salsa all the way home. Typical.
Tuesday:
Tuesday morning was good; the mistress took me for a walk. On the leash. Not optimum like in the Bosqueat home where I get to run free most of the time, but okay. Or it was till we took that wrong turn that kept us out for 90 minutes instead of the hour she planned on. Idiot. I’ll give her, she didn’t do that again. After breakfast – theirs, not mine, but at least I scored some banana, I love bananas – we…get in the car again! Didn’t we drive enough the day before??? They say we’re not going far. And we’re going on a little hike. Okay, I like to hike.
The most beautiful part of the Pagosa Valley. looks like a freaking movie set. I’m telling you.
We drive east, back through town. I can’t lie, there’s good scenery: mountains; lots of horses; the San Juan River and even river rafters; more steak-on-hooves and ranches that look like they’re straight out of a John Wayne movie. We go up, up, up on our way to the Wolf Creek Ski Area.
The master and I at the sign for the Continental Divide Trail up near Wolf Creek Pass. The idiots took pictures of this same sign back in 1995.
There was still snow up there! And this is how dumb my humans are. We come to a roadside stop for the Continental Divide, and they realize that they’ve been there before, back in 1995,
when they traveled around Colorado. They’d driven the same road (albeit in the opposite direction, from the east) on their way to Durango. Duh! We turned around at the ski area because our goal really was the hike to see Treasure Falls. Of course, there were more stops to take pictures before we got there. But the Falls were pretty cool.
That night we ate at the condo. Because it was vacation, I got a couple of bites of their steak. She didn’t even hassle him about how much it would cost him if I got pancreatitis from eating human food. Hey, I walked and hiked that day.
Wednesday:
Can you believe this, after our walk and breakfast, we get in the car again! Apparently, we were headed for Durango. Why? It’s not like they hadn’t been there before. They wanted to see if it was different. Duh, it’s been 22 years! Have you not heard that you can’t ever go home again? At least it was only an hour in the car. We left the alpine greens and headed back to the desert browns. I have to admit that Albuquerque seems a lot greener than Durango. (Never mind that I’m mostly colorblind. A dog can tell these things.)
The French crepe dude’s cart in Durango. And I’ve still never gotten to try a crepe.
So the idiots were kind of disappointed. We got caught in local traffic driving in. They seemed to think that the place was a crap-load bigger than in 1995. (Duh.) Eventually, we found a parking spot and headed into the Old Town/downtown area. Talk turned to lunch and how they had to find a place that had outdoor seating that allowed dogs. Pooh. I have great manners, and since I’ve become desert dog, I absolutely adore AC. Amazingly, they found a little stand with a French dude who made crepes – yes, crepes in the Southwest – and decided to stop there. Apparently, the crepes were quite yummy. Not that they gave me any, claimed there were green chiles in them. Right.
But there was a bright spot. Several, in fact. Most of the shops let dogs in! And several even had water and – get this – treats for us canines! At the expensive shoe store I managed to score two Milk Bones. Woo hoo! They liked me; found me quite attractive. And, since I’ve lost a couple of pounds and got the slimming haircut, I have to say that I am looking fine.
Thursday:
Yeah, this was supposed to be a day of rest. All we were planning on doing till we went out to dinner was to finally let Murphy’s ashes go. Murphy was my big brother. They’d adopted him out of Colorado six months before I arrived as a pup in 2008. He’d just turned 12 then and managed to live till he was 16 and a half! I think I can take some credit for that. I was five when he died. Five! They’ve been holding on to his ashes since then! But again, Murph was a Colorado dog, so taking home wasn’t a bad call.
My old buddy Murphy, the Colorado dog who spent his golden days in Massachusetts.
Murph was a cool dude, drove the idiots crazy those last years. (I loved it when he pissed on the mistress’s hand-painted cupboard in the foyer. Ha! And he was bullet-proof, would just look at her like “What? What? I’m old. What are you gonna do to me?) Anyway, he got them good last week too. They knew they wanted to let him go in a river somewhere kind of private rather than in the middle of Pagosa Springs. Mistress finds a river on the map not too far from the condo, though it required traversing the forest uphill on a dirt road. The master loves that shit in his Honda Accord. Not! Gets better. After his constant “Are we almost there?” she tells him “It’s just around this curve.” And it was, but it was a DRY river bed. I laughed and I laughed.
Where we let Murph’s ashes go on the San Juan River in the San Juan National Forest. Pretty sweet, no?
Now they’re desperate. It’s our last day in Colorado; dude can’t go back to New Mexico with us. She tells him there’s a place on the completely other side of town…she thinks. Okay, they want to do right by Murph, so we head back east toward Treasure Falls. We find the parking area and the trail. But her map is sketchy. Not a lot of info. We head down the trail towards the river. And get maybe a third of a mile before the path just…ends. We turn around, head back to the car. They’re testy. “It has to be farther up the dirt road.” (Another dirt road; he loves that.) “No, the dirt road goes uphill, up into mountains.” “We can’t tell that; the river is to the right. It has to cross in front of us near here.”
As usual she breaks him and we head up the dirt road. Lo and behold! Maybe a half-mile up and down the road we find the river. We have a little ceremony (me from the car so that I don’t go swimming), and now Murph is running free in the San Juan National Forest. You go, guy. I miss you. And I’m still laughing because what should’ve been a half-hour commemoration took us two hours! Even in death, Murph wins.
FRIDAY:
After our daily walk, we packed up and were out of the condo by 10:00 a.m. Thank goodness, they opted to take the more direct route home. One more drive through the center of Pagosa Springs, a right turn onto Route 84, another two-lane, and we were on our way. We only made three stops. We’d never been to Chama where the Cumbres & Toltec Scenic Railroad is. We checked it out, used their bathrooms. The humans want to go back one day to take the train ride. I’m guessing that dogs are personas non grata, so perhaps I’ll be left at a doggy hotel for that trip.
Rug yarn at Tierra Wools in Los Ojos, New Mexico.
Back in New Mexico she made us drive two miles out of our way to visit, yes, a freaking fiber place, Tierra Wools. The master and I are in agreement here about these kinds of stops. At least they let me in to hang in the AC. She didn’t buy anything, but made sure she took pics of the rug wool colors for when she needs some. The master rolled his eyes like he always does.
We made one more stop at a cool place called Echo Amphitheater. While I was grateful to get out of the car to stretch my legs, it was NOT my favorite place. They might as well name it the “Fuck-Your-Dog-Over Amphitheater.” Yeah, the idiots thought it was great fun to call me and have it echo from the rock formation. I had no idea who was calling me and where the voices were coming from. Next time I’ll stay in the car, thank you very much.
And, just like that, we were home by around 3:30 in the afternoon. Our vacation over. I miss Colorado. It was cooler up there, and we’re back in another heatwave here. Ah, well. At least they’re talking more get-aways. In October it looks like we’re heading back to New England for the first time since we moved out here two years ago. And then in January, she’ll probably take us to Tuscon. No, we’re not going to the Old Pueblo Rug Hookers Hook-In with her, but the next day, we’re hoping to drive down to Puerto Peñasco, Mexico, for a week. Very cool!
Hopefully, she’ll let me write more of these posts rather than just pose with her rug of the week. You’ll have to find that on the High on Hooking Facebook page later this week. Until then, thanks for reading.
Signing off and hoping I get to write again,
Tynan
Tynan the Welsh Springer Spaniel of High on Hooking
