Up and Writing!

I'm thrilled to announce that I'll be teaching at Squam Art Workshops next fall! The class is called Up and Writing and it's designed to help you evolve from a person who daydreams about being a writer into one who actually writes. You may look at my books and see a gulf of experience between you and me, but there isn't, really—as I mention in my first Flashwrite episode, I spent a good deal of time talking and thinking and reading and dreaming about shaping words into stories before I developed a writing practice in earnest.How did I become a "real writer"? More to the point, how can you? Sign up for the workshop and find out! A week at Squam is an incredibly life changing experience in general—you breathe in the delicious pine-scented air, go swimming in the lake, count stars (and lose track), listen to the loons calling at night, learn a lot, get crazy inspired and make friends for keeps. Squam is the closest thing I have ever found to heaven on Earth.Registration doesn't open until January, but you can pre-register to save your spot. I just pre-registered for Spring 2014 and I'm over-the-moon excited. A really cool online workshop with Harriet Goodall—Gift of the Heart—just launched today as well! 

The Magic of Myth

You know how much I love Squam Art Workshops. I'm a much happier and more confident person for having attended, and writing that feels like an understatement. When I think of founder Elizabeth Duvivier, who over the past two and a half years has become a very dear friend, I often remember a book my sister wrote a report on in elementary school called Magic Elizabeth. That's how I think of her, because she's given so many people the space and the love they've needed to reconnect with their creativity—to see themselves for who they are, not just who everyone else expects them to be.

It was Elizabeth, too, who encouraged me to dig into the work of Joseph Campbell, and you might remember how much I loved his interview series with Bill Moyers. Joseph Campbell's most famous words are "follow your bliss," and the knowledge, inspiration, and friendships I've received from Squam have made it much easier for me to act on that advice. You can just imagine how excited I was when Elizabeth told me about her new online seminar, "The Magic of Myth"! This isn't just Elizabeth's take on the hero's journey—it's ours. Our lives don't happen to us, we create them, and I'm so looking forward to discussing myths and archetypes and how we can apply them. I signed up for the seminar today, and if you decide to take it too, let me know in the comments! 

Let Go!

 When I was a kid, I loved to draw—loved it, loved it—so much so that it became an integral part of my identity. I was the serious, bookish, arty kid with glasses far too big for her face.At the end of fourth grade, though, something shifted, and I lost confidence in my ability. (Some other time I'll elaborate on exactly what happened.) "I guess I'm not as good as I thought," I said to myself. "But at least I'm still smart."A few years went by. My sixth-grade history teacher, who was also the gifted-and-talented art teacher, praised some drawings I did for a project on the Greek myths, although I didn't actually get into the G.T. art program until eighth grade. (I can't remember why it took two years, but most likely he encouraged me to apply for seventh grade, but I didn't, and then he encouraged me a second time, and that time I listened. Dear Mr. Jennings!)I kept making art all through high school, but I never reconnected with the confidence of my elementary school days. When it came time to apply to colleges, I had my heart set on art school, but I couldn't get a complete portfolio together in time. (Now you know why I majored in art history.)Mind you, I'm not regretting any of the choices I've made, or wishing I could have released my doubts and self-imposed limitations sooner. This is my path, and I own it—and to be perfectly honest, I'm a much better writer than I am (or would have been) as an artist anyway.Still, all these years I've wanted to go back and be that little girl again—to draw not so it would look as much as possible like the thing I was drawing, or so that people would praise my ability, but for the sheer joy of putting marker to paper. And this past Friday, I finally gave myself the chance.I was having an art day with my Little Sister. She suggested I try drawing with my right hand, and something went PING! "This'll be fun," I said, and pulled out another sheet of paper. Here is what happened next:  It's just a doodle—and yet it's so much more significant than that. I started at the center, making those pink and gray squiggles that reminded me of geological strata. La la la, those lines seem to say. Just drawing with my opposite hand. Nothing much to see here.Then I thought, "What if I were to forget that I'm drawing with my opposite hand? What would happen then?"Can you tell which part I drew next? I bet you can.  I've been reading and thinking and journaling a lot lately about limitations—virtually all of them imaginary. Just think of how many times we say to ourselves, I can't do that. I'm no good at that. My Little Sister only just turned thirteen, and I heard her say both of those sentences pretty much as soon as we opened up our boxes of art supplies. I can't draw. I stink at it.You say it, you think it, you believe it. But what if you were to let go of all that, and take an hour's worth of pleasure in proving yourself wrong? When you say you can't, you wall yourself off from whole new worlds of exploration and experience, whether it's in the kitchen or on a playing field or at an easel.You haven't seen the last of my wacky drawings, oh no. I'm going to use them to develop fabric designs, and who knows what else after that. I might also work on making my mind maps more colorful and lively. I'm so psyched to have purchased my first sketchbook since high school!How about you? What was the last thing to which you said I can't do that (even though you really wanted to), and do you think you can summon the gumption to do it anyway?

Where We Make: Bonnie Sennott

Bonnie Sennott is an artist and knitwear designer living in Amherst, Massachusetts. She blogs about her creative work at Blue Peninsula. You may recall that I am currently knitting her Pomegranate pullover, and I can't remember the last pattern I found so pleasurable or satisfying to knit. Bonnie has drawn inspiration from Squam Lake (where we met last year) for patterns like Deephaven and Rockywold, and here she describes another beautiful setting that creatively (and literally!) nourishes her.

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Although I have a studio (a spare bedroom), I can’t seem to confine my creative impulses to just one room. There’s work all over the house—sketchbooks on the dinner table, embroidery on the coffee table, knitting projects on the sofa—even on the kitchen counter!

But my home is a private space, so I thought instead I’d write about one of my favorite places to work away from home: the Bookmill in Montague, Massachusetts (population 8,400), a former mill that houses a used bookstore, café, and restaurant, CD store, and artist studios.

My Peppernut shawl artfully draped over a chair as I work on a pattern in the Lady Killigrew Café. 

Quirky rooms awash in light pouring through big windows; comfy, well-worn furniture; an ever-changing selection of books and notecards; good WiFi—all this makes the Bookmill a favorite hangout for writers, artists, and other creative folk (and booklovers, too!)

“Books you don’t need in a place you can’t find” is their marketing slogan. But it’s really not that hard to find. And the bookstore? Amazing! Lots of books I do need—I’ve found some great stitch dictionaries there.  On sunny fall weekends, the Bookmill can be crowded. But I always find a nook or cranny where I can knit or embroider. When my eyes or hands need a break, I head into the Lady Killigrew Café for an iced tea or fresh salad. I love the view from the café windows and how peaceful and at ease I feel there—so much so I named a scarf pattern after it.  As I stitch or knit while listening to the Sawmill River rush by, I find my mind quieting down—sometimes working there is like creating and meditating at the same time. It’s a beautiful place, and since I’ve been going there for seventeen years, it really does feel like a second home. 

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Where We Make is a series on creative workspaces. Read the submission guidelines here. If you'd like to contribute a profile of your own space, please email me at cometpartyATgmailDOTcom.

Sister of the Sibylline

 The Doctor Who historical episodes are generally my favorites—"Vincent and the Doctor" made me bawl both times I saw it, and I watched the opening scenes of "The Shakespeare Code" (in which a trio of witches devour a hapless young man) as I was beginning to write Petty Magic. And when I saw "The Fires of Pompeii," I knew I needed to be a Sister of the Sibylline for Halloween. The Sisters of the Sibylline are a nefarious cadre of soothsayers with eyes painted on their hands, and when they hold their hands to their (actual) eyes, they can communicate with each other across distances.

 I guess I could have gone all out with the jewelry and red dress, but I like that the costume feels more or less complete with just a red cape and some black-and-white face paint.

  

 I sewed the cape out of some cheap polyester (from Sew Low Fabrics in East Cambridge) using a free and easy pattern from FleeceFun.com. Intended for fleece, obviously, but it worked for my purposes just fine. I lopped off the pointy cape end, and finished it in a morning. Got so lazy that I didn't add any ribbon ties though—safety pins work just as well, haha!

 The plot of this episode is somewhat convoluted, but if you forget about the aliens and just focus on the human interest element, it's quite poignant. Donna and the Doctor have gotten to know a particular middle-class Pompeii family, and when the volcano erupts and everyone is running wild with panic, Donna is stricken to find them huddled together and preparing to die. The Doctor is about to leave, and Donna begs him: "Not the whole town. Just save someone."And he does. 

 I'm going to a concert at the Armory tonight. We'll see if any sci-fi nerds actually recognize me.

 

As for vegan candy, I treated myself to this tasty mint chocolate cookie:

  

Here's a bonus for you: Elliot in drag!!!!!

 They're characters from Game of Thrones. (I'm sure I'm the only person in America who couldn't have guessed that.)

Happy Halloween, everyone!

  

My New Favorite Sweater, part 1

When it comes to knitting patterns, my eyes are faster than my needles. I buy a pattern thinking I'll cast on for it soon, but that almost never happens. I bought Bonnie Sennott's Pomegranate at June Squam 2012 and cast on a little over a year later, which is actually on the quick side for me. Ha. I'd been wanting to try Hempathy for awhile—it's a sturdy blend of hemp, cotton, and modal (rayon)—and I'm really enjoying knitting with it. Much easier on the hands than you'd think. I love it so much that I bought a bag of yellow Hempathy for a cardigan (which was my Uganda knitting—I needed something much easier than this!) (Cardi pattern by Gudrun Johnston—blogging about it eventually!)   I usually knit on the T, and I'm getting lots of comments from my fellow passengers. My favorite was this guy who'd just told someone else that he's a physicist. Then he turned to me and commented that the lace chart I was working from looked awfully complex. Ha ha! Lace charts are easy once you know how to read them! And you are a physicist!!  I'm aiming to have it done and ready to wear on my birthday (which is three weeks away). 

Making in Tandem

Making your own hours is one of the best things about writing for a living. I can work on the novel 'til 1AM, and spend the whole next day crafting with a dear friend.If you haven't read Amy Lou's Where We Make entry yet—do! Amy's space is incredibly inspiring—soaking up all the happy creative juju is so good for me. Oh, and she has a brand-new website too, which captures her energy as perfectly as her guest post.I got some knitting done (though no sewing—next time!)It is a lovely friend indeed who takes the time to steam some almond milk for your coffee. Still working on my Pomegranate (by fellow Squammie Bonnie Sennott). This is the most complex lace I've ever done, and I often get comments as I'm knitting on the T. Really enjoying it.          

Where We Make: Amy Lou Stein

[Amy Lou Stein dyes, sews, crochets and knits from her home studio just outside of Boston. She has taught me how to trace sewing patterns (to leave the original pattern intact) and how to use a serger for sewing jersey. Amy is—no contest—the most energetic person I know, and I love how that verve comes across in her writing.]

 My darling friend Camille asked me to write about my creative space, so here goes.Our house is its own “creative process.” Even though I do have a designated space for crafting, I manage to overflow into the garage, basement and assorted nooks and crannies with my bins 'n pins.My work room is the back mudroom leading to the yard and laundry, perfect for accessing hoses, slop sinks and plant matter. But it’s also the path my family (and sometimes the entire neighborhood) use to go in and out of the house. Since I have no door between me and them, finishing a thought is an emotional and creative Twitter feed, limited, interrupt-able and open to the world. I do a lot of dyeing and I have all sorts of jars full of concoctions, powders, plant matter and pretty stones. I have been using our garden’s coreopsis to dye some silks and cottons that I recently indigo dipped and I am almost finished with a pretty blouse. My absolute favorite part of my room is the sweet trash-picked USPS table from 1931. It’s so high that I stand up to sew and now I am so used to it I prefer standing and sewing. The light streams in during the afternoon and makes me happy.My only lament is my lack of organization in terms of shelving (and lack of shelves!) I need a twelve-step program to address my unhealthy relationship with every crafter’s best friend, THE PLASTIC BIN. The bins are full of every single kind of thing you might ever need...until you need it—and then I realize that OMG I ran out of fusible interfacing or, dread of dreads, fructose for my Indigo vat (that happened today).I usually spend some time cleaning the space only to explode (literally) fiber everywhere when I have an idea. Hence, it is impossible to be anywhere in our house and not see some remnant of cloth, pin, yarn or hook along with many unfinished objects. Where We Make is a weekly series on creative workspaces, appearing each Friday. Read the submission guidelines here. If you'd like to contribute a profile of your own space, please email me at cometpartyATgmailDOTcom.

Faux Vintage

I had so many crafty plans for the summer, but in the end I only finished one project.I fell in love with this cotton lawn as soon as I saw it on the Mood Fabrics website. It felt so 1940s, and perfect for a summer blouse.I actually finished the sewing back in June, and sewed on the buttons at a Make Out session in July (if I remember rightly). The pattern is Colette's Violet blouse.Even though the blouse came out well and the whole process went quite smoothly, I'm reluctant to call this a successful F.O. I fell in love with the print without stopping to consider if it would actually flatter me, and I'm not sure that it does. I should have gone with a solid color or at least a smaller print. Secondly, it's too short! The next time I make this pattern I'll add two or three inches to the body length.I also don't have much to match it with. I did get these awesome high-waisted denim capris from Bettie Page back in July (the salesgirl said they're actually cut from a 1950s pattern), but it would be great to have at least one pair of shorts and one skirt to match as well. Colette has the perfect patterns, of course (and I already have Ginger in my stash). Making this blouse has reminded me why dresses are easier; you put on a dress and you're done. No matching!Yes, I wimped out on the buttonholes by doing loops instead. The buttons were left over from this summer 2012 knitting project, a ginger-cat for my friend Alicia's daughter. (Those embroidery classes paid off! I never would have done such a neat job before Jessica and Rebecca.) My first collar facing!As for the pattern itself, I'll echo everyone else who's made it and say size down. I made it in a size 6—I usually wear an 8 or 10—and it's still fairly roomy. This was my first Colette project, and the directions are SO clear and easy to follow, especially compared to the way traditional commercial patterns are written and laid out.After taking these photos I went into town for yoga and dinner, and had to rethink all the things I don't like about this blouse after I received three compliments from strangers of both sexes within literally five minutes (one of whom ducked into the Citizens Bank ATM lobby where I was getting cash especially to tell me how pretty it is!) I think the Donna-Reedishness of it really appeals to people. Maybe I remind them of black-and-white photos of their twentysomething grandmothers. For example:(A Green Goddess bowl and a Loco-Coco smoothie at Life Alive, delivered by a girl who said "I love your shirt, it's really pretty." The lighting makes the greens look less appetizing than they are. Thoroughly delicious, especially with that ginger nama shoyu sauce!)

On the Nature of (Beautiful) Things

Here's the very belated Christmas present I mentioned in my post on selfish knitting.It's for my dear friend Jill, who gave me some really beautiful vintage clothing after she moved from Minneapolis to the D.C. area last spring.One of the pieces was her wedding ensemble—embroidered linen, since apparently she was a bit of a hippie! I knew I wouldn't wear the blouse, so I asked her if it was okay to cut it up and turn it into something else, and she was cool with that. On our Turkey trip we were reading about Lucretius in a New Yorker that got read cover to cover at least twice, so this project was inspired by a line from De Rerum Natura:

Thus things for things shall kindle torches new.

As I ruminated on this line in particular, I became enchanted with the idea of one form of love turning over into another—one kind of love creating another. Elliot and Spencer's parents, like ours, are no longer married, and as a child of divorce I think about this from time to time: that my parents had to come together because we wanted to enter into the world through them, and that in a cosmic sense they may have had very little choice in the matter. (I don't actually believe that, but it's always fun to ruminate on these Big Questions, right?)So as I stitched, I enjoyed the symbolism in cutting up Jill's wedding blouse to make something completely different (and equally pretty, I hope).I did the embroidery 100% freehand. I didn't have a plan, and I didn't trace a design onto a piece of Sulky Solvy (though that was my original intention). I wanted to see how it would turn out if I took a more organic, "type B," anti-perfectionist approach. Actually, I can't see that it would have turned out any nicer if I had sketched something out beforehand. I'm very happy with it!I used my all-time favorite calico for the backing.

Where We Make: a new feature!

In 2008 and 2009 the Guardian ran a delightful series called Writers’ Rooms, pairing a photograph of a writer’s study with a brief but reflective essay on how they work in the space and draw inspiration from their surroundings: the pictures and knick-knacks on the wall, the books on the shelf, the particular style of desk chair, and what have you. Entries by or about George Bernard Shaw, Beryl Bainbridge, and Jane Gardam were particular favorites. (“I move around the room when it gets too untidy, like the Mad Hatter's Tea Party.” That cracks me up every time.)I was disappointed when the Guardian discontinued the series, and for years I wanted to start my own project to reboot the concept on more inclusive terms. I wanted to see the workspaces of all sorts of artists, emerging as well as established—and from all over the place, too, not just Britain! I know we all like the occasional peek inside other people's notebooks and studios, whether that artist is working in your field or something completely different (like hand-dying! My dear Amy Lou Stein—who dyes yarn and fabric, sews and knits and crochets and has a dedicated workspace I envy every time I visit—will be my very first contributor.)But I didn’t have a workspace of my own that felt worth featuring (I generally wrote in a nondescript “quiet room” at my local library), so whenever I broached the idea with writers and painters I thought might be interested, they hesitated because I didn’t have any examples to show them. It’s true that I could’ve done my best with the impersonal space I was working in at the time, especially since I am also very interested in temporary workspaces, but maybe the idea was just biding its time.I’m happy to announce that I'm finally ready to launch Where We Make with a profile of my own current workspace. Now that I have a sample profile to point you to, how’s about it? Would you like to write about your own workspace for my weekly feature? Please email me with “Where We Make” in the subject line.Some things to keep in mind (you can consider these "submission guidelines" if you like):

• The format is super simple: one photo of the entire workspace (with or without you at work in it), and a brief essay of around 300 or so words. (One shot will probably suffice for us writers, but if you are an artist or designer and want to include more photos, that would be great!)
• I’m not snooty about the definition of “artist.” ANY sort of creative work qualifies here!
• This isn't just about showing off the scope of your personal library or the handsome prints on the wall above your desk. How you use the space you work in, whether you draw energy from it or zone it out, surround yourself with things that inspire you or sit down in a temporary space as if it's a blank slate—that's what I find really fascinating. So by all means take a picture of your table at the local coffee shop if that's where you work best.
• I will tweet, Facebook, and pin the heck out of your contribution. Yay for free publicity!
• If you are so inclined, please take a moment to leave a comment on a workspace profile, and we’ll both be very grateful.

I can't tell you how excited I am to launch this new feature! Thanks very much in advance for your interest and support.

Ajanta & Ellora

I never did finish blogging about India! My last stop (after Hampi and Hyderabad to see Golconda) was Aurangabad, the best base for visiting the marvelous caves at Ajanta and Ellora. I'd misunderstood my sister when she told me about these Buddhist monuments; I thought she'd visited them herself, but she hadn't been able to venture that far south when she was doing a law school program in Delhi (and elsewhere) in 2009; so I went down the walkways between the caves happily thinking I was walking in her footsteps. We've said we can't really do India together, since I did the southern half and she did the northern half. Each of us has already seen what the other one would like to. (Good thing there are plenty of other places in the world...like, say, Uganda!)Anyway, this is going to be more of a photo dump than a proper entry. Ajanta and Ellora are each a series of rock-cut temples, both within easy reach of Aurangabad. The "caves" at Ajanta were built between the second and fifth century CE, Ellora's between the fifth and tenth centuries. As I toured each of these sites I kept thinking about what life must have been like for the Buddhist monks who painted the walls and carved the arches and columns and sculptures of all sizes—to toil in what must have been dangerous conditions for an end result they wouldn't live to see. It would have been a life very much like those who built the great cathedrals of Europe, I imagine. Fascinating and awe-inspiring and exquisite.Our guide told us the artist-monks made those hollows in the floor to mix and contain their pigments.I was blessed to find a new friend from Switzerland on the bus ride to Ajanta. Julien and I got lunch at the site, and it was delicious. (I just skipped that yogurty-looking stuff on the right.)The next day we hired a rickshaw to take us to Ellora—which, true to reputation, was even more awe-inspiring than Ajanta:(I love this shot—a simple but powerful gesture of awe and humility and gratitude.)(Ha! Not likely!)

Selfish Knitting

On our way to the beach yesterday, Elizabeth and I got to talking about selfish knitting. I'd been feeling it for awhile, but this was the first time I'd actually put the right words around it: when it comes to making things for other people, I am tapped out.For years now I've prided myself on my handmade gifts--and before I got into knitting and sewing, I did quite a bit of stained glass. (I've since given up that hobby since it's relatively messy and potentially dangerous, at least for an absent-minded crafter like myself.) The gifts I made were often very time consuming, but it felt worth it once I figured out who my more appreciative friends were. I love my friends and I love their babies, and I'm sure someday I will feel excited about knitting for them again; but it doesn't make any sense to make something because I feel like I ought to, and that's just where I'm at right now.Ultimately this has to do with my being kinder to myself. I can't knit and sew my own wardrobe (an ambition I see as both a creative and political act) if I'm making things for other people. I want to be more like Momo on Ravelry, who has knit herself literally hundreds of gorgeous sweaters. (I'll be good with a dozen, but you get my point.) I will no longer feel guilty for using my skills for my own benefit; and, frankly, if someone I know wants something handmade, I am happy to show them how to make it themselves.So this embroidery is the last thing I'll be making as a gift for a good long while:It's almost done (and long overdue--it was supposed to be ready for Christmas!)In between finishing that up, I'm knitting myself a Pomegranate. (I'm wearing the sample in the Squam pic below.)And while we're on the subject of selfish knitting, I want to send a shout-out to my dear friend Anne, a longtime knitter who recently finished her very first sweater for HERSELF. May it be the first of many!

Handmade Summer

I'm even more excited about making my own clothing since I went vegan. Yes, phasing out wool has been a bit of a challenge, but challenges are FUN! Here's some yarn and fabric I have plans for this summer:Shibui Linen for a Xia blouse (Ravelry link). Treated myself at Gather Here after my book deal!Cute vintage-y cotton lawn from Mood Fabrics, destined to become a Violet blouse. (It's almost finished!)

Making button loops using this tutorial from @colettepatterns: http://t.co/w603zGNBTp #sewing (So excited for my new blouse!)-- Camille DeAngelis (@PettyMagic) June 13, 2013

Vintage rayon from this Etsy shop and Italian shirting from Mood Fabrics. Both for dresses, one of which will have some pretty nifty bias action.I had a plan for this Bamboo laceweight from Webs, but oftentimes when you order online what comes in the mail isn't quite what you expected. I think I'll make one of these instead. (Puffed sleeves! I can't resist!)Ailbhe gave me these adorable buttons a few years ago. They belong on a vintage jumper, just not sure yet which pattern.I also finished a Miette cardigan a few weeks ago, which I'll blog about soon. Still need to take some photos!

Cocktails & Calico, part 2

(Cocktails & Calico, part 1; Musings from a Beginning Quilter.)It's FINISHED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! After more than two years, a truckload of fabric, and hours of cutting, sewing and pressing, I completed Kelly's wedding quilt. (It's been done for months now, I just never got around to blogging these photos for some reason.)At least a mile of quilt binding strips.Sewing it on.I embroidered a dedication and sewed it on the back.Ready to wrap!

Tweedy iPad case

My mom got an iPad for Christmas, and I sewed her a case for it using a pattern out of Maya Donenfeld's Reinvention: Sewing with Rescued Materials. Maya is a regular teacher at Squam, and I've been wanting to take her botanical screen-printing class since I first started attending the retreat in 2011. One of these years!The outer fabric is Donegal tweed from John Molloy, which I purchased on a visit to Donegal town all the way back in January 2001 (and I salvaged it from a skirt I made almost as long ago but never wore). The fabric for the lining and strap is a plain quilting cotton. (I used fusible interfacing on the strap for durability's sake.) I chose maroon (out of my stash) to match the nubs in the tweed. Even the batting was left over from a quilting project, so I like to think I was keeping with the spirit of the book by not buying anything new. (And you know I'd never buy tweed now, being vegan, although it IS beautiful!)Maya's book was my mother's Christmas gift to me, fittingly enough. It's a gorgeous book, and I'm sure I'll be making many more projects out of it.

Vintage Quickie (goes Vegan)

As you know, I love vintage knitting patterns. This one's called the "Three-Hour Sweater" and while the name is a total exaggeration, it is fun and cute and easy.I first knit this pattern back in 2008, and the result was so unflattering I can't even bring myself to post a picture here (but here's the Ravelry link). I stuck to the original pattern when I ought to have rejigged the whole thing, as I did this time around: finer gauge, back shaping, knit the yoke in the round. Much, much better. (Ravelry link for Vintage Quickie #2, with copious notes.)These photos were taken by my friend and fellow Squammie Jen Barlev one March afternoon while we were visiting Amiee in Pennsylvania. Quality time with my Squam buds is always so nourishing for me. (Literally, too--Jen surprised me with a bar of cherry lemonade vegan chocolate!)Hooray for back shaping!The yarn is Valley Yarns Southwick, a bamboo-cotton blend. Pleasant to knit, easy to care for, and it's holding up really well. I'm determined not to see knitting without wool as a dilemma ("how will I knit warm-enough sweaters for the winter?!", etc.) I am resolved, because as Victoria Moran says: the wool industry IS the mutton industry.I've gotten to the point where I want to replace my favorite wool handknits (like the Victory Jumper) as soon as possible because I feel a certain degree of uneasiness whenever I put them on. In keeping with my new direction, I'll be blogging about vegan knitting more regularly starting over the summer sometime (whenever my new website launches).In the meantime, I'm slowly destashing my wool yarns and replacing them with pretty pima cotton.This photo is my favorite because I look like I'm knocking on an invisible door at the edge of the reservoir.

This is my other favorite photo because of the printable Amiee colored for me (you can find it here). I put it over my bed and it makes me so happy every time I look at it!

Happy Stitching

Some things I've been stitching since June Squam 2012:

A gift for Olivia, stitched in Jessica's class.

A few shots of Kate's birthday present, the angry rooster translated from Colombian graffiti, which I began in Rebecca's class: Dissolving the Sulky Solvy (the product you use to transfer the design).

A wedding gift for my cousin Jenni. She asked me to read this poem during the ceremony, so I thought it would be fun to stitch up my favorite lines, with alternating mirror-writing to add some visual interest.

Olivia really wanted to stitch, so I got her some yarn embroidery kits from Jo-Ann for her birthday. (She's six already!!!)

A mystery gift (lyrics! I bet you can guess the song.)

For Kelly and Jeff, with lots of  ♥  from Mealey D. (See Cocktails & Calico and Musings from a Beginning Quilter; proper quilt post coming soon!)

Fall Squam, part 2

The table o' writing prompts, before my workshop began.(Fall Squam, part 1; recap on the official Squam blog.)This week I've been feeling wonky in a good way, if that makes sense. Marie Manuchehri's Squam workshop changed my life, but not at all in the way I expected it to. Looking back, I went into it Friday morning all blithe and giddy, like la la la, she will give me lots of pretty, shiny insights! (In case you would rather read on than follow Marie's link first, she's a psychic medium and energy healer in the Seattle area--and a tremendously kind and generous human being.)Silly grasshopper. Insights don't always make you feel good—at least not right away—and truly, it isn't much of an insight if it doesn't yank you out of the confines (emotional or otherwise) you've laid out for yourself. Sometimes you have to deal with the ugly stuff first, and the really amazing thing is that once you stop avoiding the ugly stuff and take a good hard look, it doesn't seem so ugly anymore. Fear makes everything look dark and scary.I know I'm being vague here, but you know I'm doing it on purpose, because this is private stuff. Let me just say this: you can always, always be more honest with yourself. Maybe it's time to be brave, or maybe you're not quite there yet, but either way you'll eventually get your hands dirty digging for truth. I made "fortune cards" for my Saturday morning writing workshop, putting them face down on the table, and Crissy (who was in Marie's workshop with me) chose my favorite Flannery O'Connor quote (thank you, Ann Napolitano): The truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it. In other words: it is what it is, so you might as well face it.Thank you to everyone in that class—you were so patient with me, and helped me in the most surprising ways. And thanks most of all to Elizabeth, who I strongly suspect knew I needed to be there. Elizabeth is magical like that.Okay, we're done with the woo woo stuff. I don't generally do a play-by-play of everything that happened at the retreat, but there are a few fun things I want to share. I also wanted to tell you that I really lucked out with my travel buddy: Alisha and I met on the Squam Community Board, and we drove up and back together, stopping at a hotel in Merrimack on Tuesday night. She is one of my new very favorite people, and I'm bummed we didn't pause for a photo together. (On the upside, I can see her pretty much any time we like!)

On Thursday I went into Kayte Terry's Color and Composition with zero expectations besides playing around with paper and fabric and having a lot of fun doing it--and I did. Kayte isn't into rules and theory, and that suited me really well; I made friends with my exacto knife, and experimented with echoes and negative space and painting on pages torn out of an old dictionary. I'll be posting a "part three" once I've had a chance to finish the projects I started in her class.(That's a pic of me and Kayte that Julia took with her nifty neo-Polaroid camera.) 

First game of Cards Against Humanity with fellow Squammies - so wrong it's right. #fb-- Kathleen Sweeney (@Sweeneybird) September 14, 2012

I went over to Long House after Thursday evening's entertainment (Maya Stein and Jonatha Brooke) to see if Kath (a.k.a. Sweeneybird) wanted to play some Scrabble. I found her with a bunch of people I didn't know yet playing Cards Against Humanity, and I joined in. It's like Apples to Apples, except completely perverted. (Kelly would have loved it.)Some of the tamer cards in my hand.I used to be one of those people who is way too easily offended, so now I find myself getting even bigger laughs out of stuff like this to make up for all the time I wasted being prudish. This is no judgment on anyone who finds this game to be in poor taste; I totally see why you feel that way. But I had a LOT of fun.Easterleigh, where I stayed this time.Friday night Amiee, Jen, Karen and I went for a 'swim' off this dock--I use quotes because we just stood in the water, chatted, and looked up at the stars. That was one of my favorite moments.The writing prompt table, happily picked over.We only had an hour and fifteen minutes for the Saturday morning writing workshop, so I just gave everyone who showed up a little pep talk (make a beginning! any beginning! it doesn't matter if you're only talking about writing right now; I've been there!), then I showed them my collections of words and images and asked them to run with whichever they felt drawn to.I also talked a little bit about the "mind mapping" technique and put my examples on display. You can read more about that in my Ideas, Part 2 post.The lovely lady on the left chose my grandparents' wedding photo outtake (my grandfather's hand is hiding his face and my grandmother has this really odd expression on hers, which I've always found intriguing) and the shadow picture of me and Seanan in the Cotswolds. My photo and art postcard collection feels extremely personal, so I loved seeing which pictures the writers connected with on their own terms. (My friend and cabin-mate Julia, on the right, had just come from a Thai massage. I think we were all a little envious.)Above and below are Amiee and Jen scribbling away--I feel so blessed they were in my cabin, and that we had plenty of opportunities to support and talk each other through the changes we're looking to make in our lives.By the way, if you took the workshop on Saturday but forgot to add yourself to my email list (or if you weren't there, but are interested), leave me a comment and I'll forward you the email of fun inspirational links I sent out this morning.On Saturday afternoon, after Marie's book talk, I walked up Rattlesnake on my own. I needed to burn off some excess energy and sit in solitude for a little while. What a view, eh?I had a mission at the art fair Saturday night--to buy $20 worth of raffle tickets for a Squammie who couldn't be there in person. Guess what? She won! (Third prize, a lovely vase from Gleena.) You know that if I'd bought those tickets for myself, I wouldn't have won--and I say that as in 'isn't that marvelous?,' not 'wishing I were luckier.' I already know I'm very, very lucky.After the art fair I played Scrabble by the fire with Kath and Karen. I did not, however, get a photo with Karen. Next time!Alisha and I had a great deal to talk about and 'process' aloud on the seven-hour ride home, so much so that we never once stopped talking apart from the occasional navigational stuff.Slightly disconcerting, no? (The truck cab was being towed.)Thank you to everyone this past week who smiled at me, listened to me, and let me listen. I'm so grateful!

Fall Squam, part 1

The ice house. (The iceboxes in the cabins use ice cut from the lake.)I know I say it every time, but this time it's extra-specially true: Squam changed my life, yet again--thanks to Marie Manuchehri (whose workshop I took on Friday) and a whole crew of wonderful friends, new and old.I also facilitated a really fun writing workshop. Eighteen people showed up and scribbled furiously for a good while. It was great.

No-stress story-telling with @pettymagic @squamlove instagr.am/p/Pmd0FPtCT7/-- Finch (Alexandra) (@LittlestFinch) September 15, 2012

For inspiration.Exercise #1 in Color and Composition (still in process) with Kayte Terry.The dock at Easterleigh, 7:30am.More soon.