Hands Across The Sea

OK, so it has to be the most insane idea yet - a weekend in Texas. But that's what it was, and I wouldn't have missed it for anything. Angeluna had a birthday a couple of weeks ago; I have one coming up in a couple of weeks. She blogged about that great ranch in the countryside where she was going to take a dyeing workshop. I felt so envious when I read about it that I raged down to see DH and complain about the unfairness of living in Ireland where nobody has ever seen a dyeing workshop, nobody is ever likely to organise a dyeing workshop, and you could live and die (no, die) without dyeing. More, probably your great grandmother and your great granddaughter would have the same experience (or lack of it). DH, as is his wont, listened patiently, and then said:


So why don't you go?

Sorry?

Why don't you go over, and join Angeluna on this weekend

?????

Well, it's not that difficult, is it? You could fly from Shannon.


But...

Look, are you really keen on this thing. Because if you are -

Gosh - it would be kind of a serious birthday present, wouldn't it?

That's what I was thinking.

He would look after the dogs, he said. Yes, he would keep a special eye on Sophy (she's doing fine, playing us up for every treat she can. The scar has almost disappeared into her fat tummy).


I tremulously emailed Angeluna. She responded with delight.


A couple of days later I was on the plane . Terrified, appalled at the sheer idiocy of going to Texas for a weekend. Didn't tell anyone else. I could imagine their reaction.


You're going over there for a weekend, right? Over and back within four days?

Er - yes.

Don't you think a fortnight would be better?

It might well be. But that isn't feasible right now. Deadlines, commitments, workload. It's either this or nothing.

You'll have the jetlag from hell.

Very probably. But I think it's worth it.

Well - you're mad.

Thank you. It has always been my life's ambition not to be considered middle of the road.

It was strange and exciting to be flying over so much of the United States, especially when I realised at one point that Big Muddy, aka the Mississippi was right below me.

OK, it's not a great image but believe me it was quite an experience seeing it down there, far below, and even being able to pick out a miniscule barge heading down for New Orleans. And then we were landing in Texas.

You've seen Angeluna's pictures. She does it so much better than I do (and she's used to the Texas heat too!) It was incredible, though, to emerge at Fort Worth and find her waiting, arms outstretched for a big warm hug.

And the knitting group were patiently waiting in Borders, so wonderful, friendly, welcoming, full of enthusiasm and encouragement. Jeri was there, and Aisling and Susan and so many others. After twenty hours travelling I wasn't entirely sure where I was, but the lovely voices and handshakes will always stay with me. And they gave me a gift! Now how generous was that?



I was so delighted! This fascinating account of Belle and Pearl Starr, plus the most exquisite silk scarf with miniature cattle brands printed on it - all from the Cowgirl Museum. Gang, I'll treasure these all my life, I promise you!

And just when I thought I wouldn't see her, darling Lynn turned up, and it was so wonderful to be able to hug in real time and see each other and make that personal contact. Isn't blogging the most amazing invention? (Lynn had brought me a gift too, the nature of which shall remain a closely guarded secret 'twixt us two: suffice it to say that Texas creates a particularly delectable delicacy not entirely unconnected with praline... And no, you're not getting any, so PAWS OFF!) Honestly, was anyone ever so spoiled? I didn't deserve such kindness from everybody.

Staying with Angeluna was one wonderful experience. We talked nonstop and traded knitting secrets, lore, useful tips. The cats were all courtesy, and even checked on me at intervals during the night to ensure I wasn't lonely.

(Yeah, of course I always sleep with a camera ready. Don't you? Doesn't everybody? How else would I have managed that time in the Himalayas when a bandicoot got into my underwear bag?)

We soundly thrashed one of A's favourite stores, Yarns Ewenique. What it must be like to have places like this just down the street, round the corner, I can't imagine. Sigh... We did have fun.



Here's Angeluna busily selecting some Mountain Colors sock yarn to add to her collection (and does she have a collection... Get her to show all of it to you sometime. Not just some of it, all of it). I went a bit mad on books and magazines. We don't get any of these here in Ireland and although of course I can order on the Net, it's not the same as being able to open them, check through them, gloat over the glorious pictures, is it?

The Kimbell Art Museum was an experience I won't forget. I kept coming across old masters and almost saying, 'But this must be a copy, surely?' I didn't even know they had Canalettos and Caravaggios, for heaven's sake. It was pure luxury (and air conditioned too!) Yes, I had genuine Texas barbecue (no, not at the Kimbell, settle down for heaven's sake!). And yes, I did get a marvellous personal tour of old downtown Fort Worth, where millions of cattle were driven to central collecting points before being taken on to Chicago. It's a beautifully preserved historic area.





And the next day we went out to Heritage Arts at Beaumont Ranch, for the dyeing workshop. I can't begin to express what it was like to arrive at this great little place and see all those enthusiastic participants already working away on skeins of art. Angeluna has already told you about the marvellous Lorelei and Sue, but I'd like to add that they are a great team and make you feel so welcome. Lorelei is the kind of person who seems to know what you're asking and answers your query before you've even finished - a very useful gift when you want to learn everything you possibly can in one short visit.






Inside, the tiny shop was an Aladdin's Cave for those of us deprived of dyes and carders and suchlike. I didn't know where to grab first.





(Oh you can laugh, you lucky blogger who simply wanders down the street to pick up a pot of dye or a pair of carders, but some of us are starved, STARVED of these opportunities, I tell you...)

And then there were all those divine skeins of brightly-coloured rovings just asking to be taken home and spun into sock yarn... Which to choose, which to leave behind?



After that, of course, there was the entertainment of the midnight launch of the seventh and final Harry Potter book. It was such fun to wander through Borders (or was it Barnes & Noble, Angeluna, by that time I was so jetlagged I can't remember!), seeing witches and wizards with banners proclaiming Severus Snape Stinks or Harry Potter Forever.

(And yes, I've read my copy by now. And I told you so, I told you! Angeluna and I were right to choose Slytherin House, support Snape, and start knitting green and silver socks. Told you!)


You'll be wondering what I managed to pack into my bags coming home (came out with just light cabin baggage, but tucked in a folding big bag - I'm not daft!) Here is some of the yarn - can't find the rest right now:





You'll see some green and silver there on the left, for a Slytherin lace scarf, what else. Back left, some Mountain Colors, centre Cherry Tree Hill, back right, provision for another attempt at felting (yeah, I'm a masochist). Bottom right, some fun yarns for experimental work. And in the middle a rather expensive but beautiful pair of fleece combs (as opposed to fleece carders). I knew of these traditional tools of course, but Heritage Arts was the first place I actually saw and touched them. They're better for creating a roving for worsted yarn (i.e. smooth and firm) rather than a woollen (rougher, fluffier). Some spinning fun ahead.




And here are some of the books I hauled home. Knitting Vintage Socks, and Favorite Socks, of course. And a clutch of irresistible magazines unobtainable here. If I'd had longer, I'd never have got through security, I assure you!


It was too short. Angeluna and I hadn't said one quarter of the things we wanted to talk about before she had to drop me back to the airport for the flight home. Unsurprisingly, I fell asleep immediately and only woke as the plane descended over the green fields of Ireland.




And dear dear DH was there waiting to welcome me home. Thanks, sweetheart. For your generosity, for your knowledge of me, for your indulgence.

But this was more than a hugely indulgent madness. It was an insight into just how much the Net and blogging have changed all our lives. I was able to meet people who actually recognised the sock pattern I was knitting, people about whom I already knew so much myself. We didn't meet as strangers but as friends. We traded snippets about other friends. We were all part of one huge family. We will continue to be so. I titled this posting Hands Across The Sea. It's more truly Hands Across The Net. You're all a powerful force. We are all a powerful force. What an experience. I'm grateful to have been able to know it.


(Now it's back to the desk and the screen to work my handknitted socks off for the next few months, to balance the books after that amazing trip. Ah well. It was worth it! Next posting I'll tell you about The Little Yarn Shop in the Far West and The Day The Noro Representative Came To Breakfast.)