Dudes and dudettes, it’s me again, Tynan the High of Hooking Welsh springer spaniel! She let me write another post.
Let me start by saying how much I love my ladies. No, not the mistress. Okay, I love her too, but she’s family. You know, overly familiar. No, I love her friends, the ones who come here to hook once in a while. Better, some of them even let me go to their houses! My house is fine, but again, overly familiar. Hey, I’m ten now. I need stimulation so I don’t go all geriatric.
So, today’s Wednesday, the day the mistress usually gets her blog out. This week, though, she is COMPLETELY unprepared, very distracted. “I’ve got another show in a week and a half. Have to finish one table runner/wall-hanging and then hook another. All by next Friday!” If you’re not in the loop, she and Cathy Kelly (one of my lady friends) are vending at the Cinco de Mayo Folk Art Fest here in town on…May 5! Duh! Cinco de Mayo, get it? Whatever. She’s got to replace some sold merchandise and is spazzing out about it.
So, she and Cathy were visiting Ruth, another one of my ladies, this afternoon, and, apparently, the mistress bitched about the blog, thought about not posting this week when Ruth and Cathy made a fabulous suggestion. “What about having Tynan do it this week? He did such a bang-up job with the Pagosa Springs post. We’re sure he’d be happy to sub in for you again.” (You can see why I love them. They get me.) So, here I am.
Because she caught me by surprise and has me on a deadline, I suppose I’ll just fill you in on my general activities lately. Let’s see.
A pic of me – Tynan – one fall in my beautiful Bosque where I can run and sniff at will. (Unless the mistress sees a coyote who might eat me for second breakfast.)
Well, since the mistress finally got over her allergy phobia, and there’s less juniper in the air, we’ve been walking the Bosquemore. I’ve lost a few pounds which was more apparent when they took me to the groomer – like weeks late! Sure, this isn’t Phoenix, but it’s been pretty freakin’ warm here this spring. Like the mistress, I prefer to keep my fur short. The master, he hates that, especially on her, but I prefer not to be dragged into their petty marital spats.
Had my rattle snake retest Sunday. The idiots were so sure that I would fail. What? She never told you about the rattle snake training? Yeah, this is ostensibly a rug hooking blog, but I’m the High on Hooking Dog; pretty much the whole marketing concept. She should’ve at least mentioned it. I will.
Almost looks innocent, doesn’t it. Like a walk in the park. Except that I NEVER wear a neon collar. And that guy is directing us toward… (Photo by Thomas Mauter of the Central New Mexico Brittany Club.)
Two years ago March, she thinks it a fine idea to 1) inject me with actual rattle snake venom (the vet called it a “vaccine“) and 2) enroll us in rattle snake avoidance training. For #1 I think I’m going on a nice car ride, and I end up at the vet’s. I hate the vet. I hate shots. I showed her, I peed on the vet’s floor. For #2, again I think I’m going for a car ride, an adventure even as it took a while to get to the middle of nowhere somewhere way west of here. A place where you know they buried bodies in Breaking Bad. Instead I find a guy who puts a shock collar on me and marches me up to a f-ing testy rattle snake. When the damn serpent strikes at me – yes, the idiots really put me through this – the guy puts an lightning bolt through me. I swear I am NOT making this up. Now I think that somehow I’m actually in Breaking Bad, that somehow I got on Walter White’s bad side. “Walk it off,” they tell me. And never go near a rattle snake again. Not a problem, I think.
Do I look happy to have met that rattle snake? Do I? (Photo by Thomas Mauter of the Central New Mexico Brittany Club.)
Of course, my skin was smelling much like barbecue by then. A half-hour goes by. I wonder why we don’t leave. The mistress says, “Come on, man, let’s walk over here.” Okay, maybe the car’s that way. I don’t know, my brain’s are still scrambled. We walk into the brush; she tugs on the leash, “this way.” I try to focus and I see…that f-ing snake! Feet don’t fail me now! I go running the other way. Back on the dirt road they tell me what a good dog I am. Freak that shit! Who drags their ever faithful canine friend out into the middle of nowhere to torture him with a snake and electricity? Really, who does that?
I’d finally forgotten all about that episode till this past weekend. It started innocently enough. “Let’s go for a ride, Tynan!” I bound into the car. The miles go by; we leave Albuquerque. Rio Rancho goes by. We’re going west. And just like that we’re back two years, in exactly the same spot. Other dogs are there. I try to warn them, but the idiots keep me off to the side. Suddenly, Shock Collar Guy is there talking. “I am going to hurt your dogs…” He holds up a collar. By now I’m not listening. What fresh hell does he have planned? Not much time to think; the mistress is pulling me towards the brush. I try to fight back, but there are other dog smells compelling me into the bushes. And I’ve not peed here yet, enlarged my own social network. Like a newborn lamb I follow. “Take the lead, Tynan.” Again, I can’t help myself. I love being first on the trail when we hike! Things look good, nothing out of the ordinary. And then I hear something familiar. I smell it too. She pulls on the leash. “This way, bud.” Against my own instincts I move in that direction. Right into the path of…the rattle snake!
Needless to say, I did not stay around. Dragged her ass right back to the dirt road and all the way to the car. Again with the “good dog” to soothe me. Bite me, I told them as I settled into the back seat. If I’m to believe them, they’ll never take me to that place again. “We’ll make it up to you,” she said. Right. “How about going to the park now. The one with trees and nice, green grass.” I cocked my ears. I love real grass. We only have that stupid fake turf in the back yard. “Okay,” I told them.
The Thimbleweeds 2018 Great Outdoor Quilt Show in Rio Rancho. I did NOT pee on any of the quilts.
What a maroon I was. Sure, we went to the park. Because it was the annual quilt show put on by the Thimbleweed Quilters. Even the master fell for it. Some day we’ll get away from all of this stupid fiber art stuff. Till then, though, I’m still stuck here as the High on Hooking Dog.
Yet again, I, Tynan, present “What’s on the frame this week.” The mistress is desperate to finish this table runner/wall-hanging so that she can start another one to be ready for the Cinco de Mayo Folk Art Fest in Albuquerque next week. Might we see you there?
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!
Dudes and dudettes, it’s me again, Tynan! This is my family room bed and pillow. I have another set in the bedroom. I do, however, prefer the humans’ beds.
Hey, guys, I’m back… It’s me Tynan the Welsh Springer spaniel who happens to live here in Albuquerque with the High on Hooking chick. She let me have another go at the blog while she’s out playing with her little guildfriends for three days. They call it a “retreat.” I knew the whole rug hooking thing was a cult! They use it to get out of the house. Sure, she sleeps here, but she’s gone all day! That means no walkies for me in the Bosque. Instead she goes on the treadmill or does stupid aerobics or something in the house before she leaves. Don’t think I don’t get my revenge. After she leaves, I jump up on the bed. And NOT on the protective blankie on my side. No way, Jose! I sleep on her side and even use her pillow. Ha!
So, I thought I’d tell you a little about myself. As you know, I am a very handsome boy, a Welshie, though I was born in Connecticut, not Wales. I’ve lived with the idiots for nine years now, and I am actually fond of them. If nothing else, they’re a habit. And they do give me treats and take me places like Colorado. I am an only child now that the actual child’s moved out. Oh, the mistress is always threatening to get me a furry little brother, but so far no worries. The master sees to that. (Truthfully, though, I’m not sure he can hold out much longer.)
I thought that perhaps you’d like to see my toy basket. Could be a few more in there, right? You’ll see, however, how much they respect my ability to chew. I’m only allowed to have toys that won’t yield to my bite. Though check out those Nylabones. They aren’t my first. I’ll take these down too. Eventually.
This is my toy box. The tightwads could get me a few more, don’t you think?
Okay, I’m not giving up all my secrets today. It’s always preferable to leave a little mystery, keep’em begging for more. And since she relented and let me write the blog today, I can afford to be magnanimous. You’ll see her current rug, the Boucherouiteis what I think she’s calling it, in the photograph below. You’d think she’d be farther along after two whole “retreat” days.
Until I write again, your friend and informer,
Tynan
Tynen here sharing her current RUG ON THE FRAME. It’s the one influenced by the Berber Boucherouites she wrote about two weeks ago. She seems to really like it and has mentioned doing a large floor rug in the same style. I promise to lie on it to christen it.
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
If you’re entering anything into the Albuquerque Fiber Arts Fiesta – like I am – be aware that the call for entries ends March 1. That’s just a week away from today!
Tynan’s such a good boy. He’s trying to hide all the un-hooked parts of this rug.
I’m entering three rugs into Fiesta, and two aren’t even done yet. There’s still hooking to finish on the biggest one. Tynan’s sitting on it there on the right, effectively hiding the undone parts. Good dog! But I don’t think the Fiber Arts Council will fall for that trick.
Hence, it’s a short post this week. My little fingers have a lot of work to do. Check High on Hooking’s Facebook page; I’ll put pics of my entries up when I’ve gotten them all loaded and can take a little breather.
Have you considered entering Albuquerque’s Fiber Arts Fiesta? You don’t have to be from these parts. (In fact, I read just today that something’s coming all the way from Brazil!) Check out the call for entriesnow. You still have a week.
