You probably knew this, but I’ll tell you anyway. Yesterday’s drive home from Rhinebeck just about killt me. Don’t get me wrong: the company was great. You, Mary Neal and Bonne Marie were every bit as shiny and charming on Sunday night as you had been on Friday morning–and you can’t say that about many other carloads of hard-knittin’ wimminfolk. But it was eating away at me, mile by mile, stitch by stitch of my Ladies Panties Scarf:
The visceral longing to be HOOKING A RUG ON MY NEW RUG-HOOKING FRAME.
Isn’t it a beaut? I got it from the wonderful Betsy Reed, who is my new Rug Hooking Role Model. It looks enormous in this picture, but it is lap-sized. This little frame has already been transformative of my rug-hooking experience. I no longer have to wrangle the hoop and hold it just so to create the necessary tautness of the linen. I can sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. (OK, the metal teeth are a little scrapy on the wrists, but I’m equipped against that.)
So naturally I stayed up until 1:30-something a.m., slicing up my new rug-hooking stash and hooking on my new bluebird rug, watching Bleak House on PBS (o no! smallpox! I had forgotten that part!), and hooking my little heart out.
I leave it to you to tell of our adventures at the Holidome. I’ve got rugs to hook.