Red Sox and horrible boyfriends.

The Sox lost last night, and they did what they often do. They dragged my heart and hope though the mud on the way out.  I was thrilled, but highly suspicious when they were in the league lead earlier in the season.  I was a bit disappointed that they blew their lead, but I am used to the disappointment, and so it somehow felt natural.

Kind of like a bad boyfriend that you are madly in love with, then you catch him cheating, then you are broken hearted, then you forgive him after he promises you that you are his only one, then you take him back and the whole cycle begins again.  But by the time you have figured this out, you are too damn old and wrinkly, and so you just put up with the disappointment.  Besides, the boy always begs for forgiveness and he has a ton of money.

The Sox are like that too.  They get your hopes up, win the wild card, they even win the first game of the series.  Then they loose.  And loose big.  So big that you don’t watch, what you think is the last game.  You can’t stand to watch it.  So you don’t watch, but the next morning fall in love again, because they came back from the abyss in grand fashion.  7 to 0 in the 7th inning, then little by little they rally, like a boyfriend begging for forgiveness, then they close the deal and win you heart with a 9th inning, 2 outs, homerun.

You are back in love and now can live for another game.  You are back on board telling everyone how much in love you are and how this time is different.

Oh, but they have to close the deal and actually win the pennant.

Then, you get ready for the big date.  You are waiting for them to show and slowly time ticks on and you realize that they are not going to deliver.  Even before the game is over you can tell that you are back there, having your heart dragged through the muck.  It makes you sick to your stomach.  You are so mad at yourself for thinking that this time could be different.

Then you realize that the Red Sox are the team that you hate to love.  It is true.  You suffer with the sox because, well, they are the Red Sox and you are a Red Sox fan, so that is the way it is.

you then turn your attention to other things.

porcupines and quill gathering

Sue Hoople is a dear friend of mine who is a bit more touched in the head with being a fiber adict then me.  I think I have mellowed over the past couple of years and although I have my house decoraded in sheep and textile things, she has me beat by mles.  Her house looks like a Tasha Tudor turned upside down hobbit home. Every space, nook and cranny is filled with antique lace, handmade dolls, baskets filled with roving and drop spindles, fiber.  Everywhere.  Bags and bags of beautifully hand dyed cultiviate silk bricks, hand made fusion silk and wool fabrics alonside of shadow boxes of seashells and antique silver bowls.

Sue grows milkweed in her garden and makes milkweed flower jelly.  She collects the silk for spinning and use in her fusion felting work.   She told me that during world war two, children from Maine would collect the silk from milkweed seed pods by the bag because it is naturally buoyant and was used to stuff military life jackets. I have to check that one out, but knowing Sue, no doubt there is some truth to it.

Sue also likes to get odd things to incorporate into her work, including the quills of a neighborhood porcupine when the opportunity presents itself. 

So we had gone out to grab a some dinner and visit with friends up in Eaton.  On our return, a huge fat porcupine was lumbering around the yard, and somewhat peeved that we had turned into the driveway with our headlights full on.  Sue got really excited and told me to keep the headlights on and watch it while she ran inside to grab a towel to get the quills.

I failed at my task.  By the time she came back out, the beast had gone off into the raspberry patch and then safely  back into the woods.   She was as disapointed as I was relieved.  So I asked her how in the world she was planning to get the quills, if he was still around.   I was always taught to stay the heck away from the critter.  She had planned to irratate it, get it’s quills up, then brush the towel up against it to harvest the quills.   Nuts.  Just plain nuts.   I was pleased that he had escaped.  I could just envision Sue and I heading to the ER to get the dozen or so quills out of her hand.

But Sue is a seasoned veteran and has done this before, with success.  She has the moxie to just go ahead and do it. I am not sure I have the same bravado.  We spent the next morning working on photographing some of her hand dyed silk and getting an ETSY shop set up for her.  Schwoolies, ect. 

A much better use of our time.  I checked Etsy this moring and with abit of luck I found her.  The name of her shop is Schwoolies, ect. and you can fined her by listed sellers.  We were able to get one silk roving up, and hopefully she will list more today.   The photo does not do it justice.

It was so good to see her and to have one more adventure.  I just wished she lived a bit closer.