Pantyhose people and wool quesadillas

A felted wool tortilla with Jesus on it (or is that Ventura??)! I am so inspired right now. I think I'm going to move on to felting after perfecting my pantyhose people. I have this strong desire to make life-sized dolls out of pantyhose. I'm making one for a friend as a prototype, and if all goes well I'm making one for myself soon after. Whatever you do, do not enter "pantyhose people" into your search engine to find out how to make this craft. You could end up as traumatized as I was! I'm going to need my pantyhose Grandmother (that's what I'm making for myself) to help me work through these confused feelings brought on by a seemingly innocent Google search. Maybe we'll make coconut creme pie together to finish out the evening. I'll be sure to post photos of this bonding moment when it happens to share with you all!

Whistle-Blower

What did I do this weekend? Ran with Paul, ate free Thai food, played capoeira, the usual. Oh, yeah, I did blow the opening whistle of the Bleeding Heartland Girls rollerderby (Farm Fatales versus the Slaughter Scouts). Not bad for a Saturday night!

Roda na academia do Mestre Pele, Forte do San Antonio, Salvador-Bahia, Brazil.

I have been meaning to put a short clip from this roda up ever since returning from Brazil. This was the most beautiful roda I have ever been a part of, and I left feeling very energized. Forte do San Antonio used to be a colonial prision and is now a heritage site full of capoeira academies. It was so meaninful to play capoeira in a space with such a history. There is almost an unspoken responsibility to not only honor the traditions of capoeira , but to joyfully celebrate them as well. It certainly was mind-boggling to imagine imprisioned Africans living in this fort, right next to the ocean, but never seeing anything beyond its high walls.

Fraterville Mining Disaster

After the Fraterville mine accident in 1902 only 3 men were left alive in the small town. Over 1,000 children were left fatherless. My ancestors (my Mother's family) are from a neighboring community, Briceville, TN. One web search claimed that 8 of my ancestors died in this tragedy. My Grandfather went on to work in the mines of this area and continued to do so for most of his life.

The following is a letter written by one of the 200 miners that suffocated while trapped in the mine (like many miners, he was trapped with his son who also perished there):
"Alice, do the best you can; I am going to rest. Good-bye dear little Ellen darling, good-bye for us both. Elbert said the Lord had saved him. Do the best you can with the children. We are all praying for air to support us; but it is getting so bad without any air. Howard, Elbert said for you to wear his shoes and clothing. It is now 2:30 o’clock. Powell Harmon is in Audrey Wood’s hands. Ellen, I want you to live right and come to Heaven. Raise the children the best you can. Oh, how I wish to be with you. Good-bye all of you, good-bye. Bury me and Elbert in the same grave. My little Eddie, good-bye. Ellen, good-bye. Lillie, good-bye. Jimmie, good-bye. Horace. There are a few of us alive yet. Oh, God, for one more breath. Ellen remember me as long as you live. Good-bye darling."

Samba na rua

The Lotus Festival last weekend left me pining once again for Salvador, where every night is a party in the streets! This is the samba band that performed at the bar where my friend Jefferson works. People were dancing in the streets, where cars would simply drive around them. It was obvious that everyone had the collective understanding that dancing is far more important than driving. I believe that the world can be divided into two distinct factions--those who dance in the streets and those whose idea of fun is a few rounds of potty putter.
While in Brazil I saw a great Forró band (and learned how to dance Forró --thanks Mauricio!), went to a wild dance club with Tom (caprinhas and go-go boys...ahhh that is the life!), and witnessed Iuri singing Reggae music with a Brazilian band in an Irish Pub. Multiculturalism at its finest!

The Gourd Witch Returns

She lives in a shack on the hill...

Her favorite color is black....

She enjoys soup...

Spooky Times

Laying in bed last night, I found my brain was working overtime yet again. Some nights it feels like it is scanning for viruses, installing new programs, and reorganizing its files. Well, in all this processing last night it pulled out a real gem of a memory. Imagine: It's 1984. I'm curled up in bed with my Alf doll reading the newest (okay, so they were written 20 years earlier, but they were new to me!) adventure from the three investigators. If, in 1984, the phrase "freak my shit out" were coined I would have been apt to explain this book as such. I think to commemorate this new Halloween season I'll dig up this book and see if it still does the trick. Maybe it will scare the kids? If you had the hiccups would this cure them?

I Heart Benjamin Franklin

Do you think good old Benji (pictured above, circa last Halloween) would have ever thought that inventors would advance to such heights as the Potty Putter? Actually, Benjamin Franklin did invent some rather useful things himself though I bet he wishes he invented the Potty Putter. Hell, I wish I had invented the Potty Putter. Wouldn't that be a great icebreaker? Imagine the following conversation at my next social gathering (which will in fact be me with four small boys on a trampoline in a backyard full of chickens):

Me: Hi small boys on trampoline, my name is Benja...I mean Julie!
Small Boys: We like jumping!!!
Me: So, do you guys jump here often?
Small Boys: Whoopee!!!
Me: I invented the Potty Putter!
*(for copyright purposes I must admit here and now that this is a fictional scenario and I did NOT invent the potty putter, nor am I actually Benjamin Franklin, nor did Benjamin Franklin invent the potty putter as far as we know.)
Small Boys: Let's put a chicken on the trampoline!
Me: So, do you guys jump here often?

Dating world--Here I come!

Potty Putter--the wonder invention

Yes, this is a real product. Practice your swing while...well, you know the rest. I'm thinking of pitching the idea to the office staff that getting these installed in restrooms could be very relaxing and productive. We could even use other restroom items to create an 18-stall Potty Putt course. (I am imagining that the stall with the broken door could be painted black and nicknamed "The Witch's Cauldron" just to name one) Tournaments will be held on the fourth Tuesday of every month. Too bad they have not invented "Potty Lacrosse" yet. Boy would that be a great game!

Why, you ask? Why not?

Activity: Teeter-totter balance contest (for Adults only)

Materials needed: One Brazilian beach with teeter-totter
Two or more grown men with competitive spirits

Procedure: Balance yourself on the teeter-totter for at least five minutes while your friends watch. Then make lots of comments (in Portuguese) about how fantastically easy that was for a person of your strength and stamina. Sit back in plastic chair under umbrella and watch as your friends attempt to balance. Keeping a camera handy will ensure that the fun lasts and lasts.

Percival the Pig

Good Percival pig was both clever and brave

his farmer was wicked and sly

he’d sent many poor pigs along to their graves

a horrid and hateful and terrible knave

as no-one who knows him denies

denies

as no-one who knows him denies

Good Percival pig hunted truffles by day

he cared for his piglets at night

his farmer declared “folk in Canada say

their lands grow such truffles as no scales can weigh

you’ll sail by tramp steamer tonight

tonight

you’ll sail by tramp steamer tonight”

Good Percival pig said “but why should I roam

so far over oceans and seas?

my kids will be sausages when I come home

and I may well drown in the sea’s salty foam

do answer, dear sir, if you please

you please

do answer, dear sir, if you please!”

Good Percival Pig heard his master’s reply

“Dear Percy I make you this vow:

if you should bring home, by the end of July

a truffle of stupendous, outrageous size

I’ll spare you, your kids and your sow

your sow

I’ll spare you, your kids and your sow!”

Good Percival pig put to sea that same night

his journey was terribly long

though battered and bruised by the sea’s howling spite

he plucked up his courage and never took fright

our Percival pig was so strong

so strong

our Percival pig was so strong

Good Percival pig made his landing at last

and using his nose he soon found

a truffle so wonderfully, awfully vast

it still, to this day, remains quite unsurpassed

it weighed in at over ten pounds

ten pounds

it weighed in at over ten pounds

Good Percival pig struggled home with his prize

and rushed with a squeal to his farm

but oh, what a horrid sight greeted his eyes

his kids and his sow had been made into pies

“you promised to save them from harm

from harm

you promised to save them from harm!”

Good Percival pig met the very same end

in bangers and pies, sausage meat

the farmer sat down to a meal with his friends

to dine on betrayal (which no-one defends)

“these sausages look such a treat

a treat

these sausages look such a treat!”

Good Percival pig was the toast of the night

they drank to his soul through their meal

’til a blood chilling draught blew and put out the light

the revellers shrieked and stampeded with fright

“God save us, it’s Percival’s squeal

his squeal

God save us, it’s Percival’s squeal!”

Good Percival pig towered fearsome and brave

his ghostly form shrouded in black

and boomed with a deathly voice “go to your grave!

you horrid and hateful and terrible knave!”

the farmer fell dead on his back

his back

the farmer fell dead on his back

Good Percival pig, that’s the end of his tale

a story of goodness and greed

a warning that nothing good comes of betrayal

that virtue and justice will always prevail

we reap what we sow with our deeds

our deeds

we reap what we sow with our deeds!

Paul Hughes 2008

Dreaming of Brasil

It's hard to believe, but I have been back from Salvador for over a month now. Many of my friends were surprised that I came home; I didn't find out until later that they fully expected me to pack up and stay a while. I think my wanderlust is very obvious to those who know me well. I've been thinking about the kids at the Funducao do Pierre Verger a lot today. Seeing kids play capoeira is so energizing. The spiritual hurdles that keep many adults from playing a beautiful game (at least from my experience) are not present in these hopeful souls. Their games are playful, graceful and uplifting. Thinking of these children reminds me of the place I am trying to get to with my capoeria game, and the emotions that accompany the pure execution of this art are highly rewarding.

Ladder stitch, anyone?

As soon as I sew together the pig wearing striped pants that I made (oh, sweet alpaca!) for my nephew, Jack I'm beginning a new project. The pig is a long-since overdue gift and a testament to my avoidance of all things unfinished. Folding an unfinished project carefully and laying it in a hand-woven basket seems to make all the difference in my guilt level. But now I have so many unfinished projects (hot-pink felted purse that needs felting, one and a half fingerless gloves in Noro, and the pig to name a few) I am mustering all my self-discipline and making myself finish one (just one, mind you) before beginning my next project.
Now that my startling confession is out of the way--on to the ladder stitch hat. My next feat will be a ladder stitch and cabled hat. Drum roll please...another rasta crown attempt. No spiritually significant triangles here, folks. Just pure, utilitarian dread wrangling.

épico: An extended narrative poem in elevated or dignified language, celebrating the feats of a legendary or traditional hero.

When I called the quest for the rasta crown epic, little did I know how true this was to become. My tubular cast on was beautifully executed, and the brim actually had to be stretched to fit, but alas, my problems seem to lie elsewhere; Iuri's dreads are so long and heavy they pull the hat back instead of letting it stand straight on the head. I am still problem-solving in my head about this issue. I think that any hat of this design, no matter how I tweak it, will flop around on his head. Something more substantial may be in order here. As I hypothesized, word is getting out that I'm knitting rasta crowns. I am becoming a legend in my own time--which means I get more chances to perfect this project. The good news is that not everyone has long, heavy dreads so this pattern may be well-suited to them. It's back to the drawing board for Iuri, I'm afraid.

The epic adventures of the rasta crown

Have you tried looking for a good rasta pattern? Oh, you'll find berets, snoods, chulos, and newsboys, but good luck if you need to help someone wrangle their dreads. I considered designing my own pattern, but the hunt was just too much fun. In the end I found http://www.woolywormhead.com had lots of rasta hats to choose from. I ended up choosing "starburst" because of the sweet triangular pattern on the crown. Rastas, by nature, are very spiritual people and I thought that triangles represented a lot (spiritually speaking). My first attempt at this hat proved to be a long night of frogging since I thought I'd be lazy and skip the tubular cast-on. I had never tried a tubular cast-on before, but realized that it was time to try something new when the 1X1 ribbing didn't have nearly the hold to keep dreadlocks under wraps. My second attempt looks beautiful, even though I haven't blocked it yet. Tomorrow will be the moment of truth (and photographs) when we see if it is a good fit! I've noticed a lot of rastas wearing hats with a drawstring through the brim to tighten it so it won't fall. I think a well knit, custom sized hat should not need a drawstring. Time will tell.

Super Powers

I'm wearing my "authentic replica JLo engagement ring" today. I usually save it for special occasions, such as canoing on Lake Griffy (I love pondering the romantic idea of watching it slip beneath the rippling waves) but since it's roda day I decided to wear it anyway. Plus it gives me the chance to pretend I'm either 1.)A Hollywood movie star newly-engaged to Ben Affleck (BORING...but hot) or 2.)I'm actually the Green Lantern. Green Lantern's super ring is purported to bestow a myriad of powers, including the ability to comprehend every language in the universe. I'm hoping this will kick in soon so that some of my co-workers' requests will make more sense. If that doesn't work I can aways use the power of "Spirit Travel" and separate my energy-self from my body and travel billions of times faster than light. I'm pretty sure I could still answer e-mails even if my energy-self is somewhere else.

In the Beginning

Did you ever notice how some herbal teas taste just like Juicy Juice? I think they should market Tazo in small boxes with straws glued to the side. Maybe I'd be less likely to spill on my current knitting project as I'm sipping my evening tisane. But spilling herbal tea on yarn only makes for some interesting dye patterns in the final product. This tea box idea--I think it could benefit the current state of the world in that people would be so relaxed as they sipped on their boxes of herbal joy that maybe they'd stop cutting me off on my daily commute and blow bubbles at me instead. How beautiful is that?