FemiKnitMafia

A couple months ago, this appeared on our caller i.d.

and I laughed my ass off.

Ever since, I’ve been wondering who called. Well today, Big Brother called again. Yes, as you probably already guessed, it’s Big Brothers Big Sisters, doing the lovely community service of calling to see if I have any clothes to donate, because they’ll be in my area and can pick them up.

Community service, whatever.  They ruined my paranoid delusion that Big Brother had finally found me.

While Wifey slept in, ate bon-bons and lounged in the yard*, Little Man and I celebrated Mother’s Day by wooling it up at the New Hampshire Sheep & Wool Festival. Danielle was my pseudo-wife for the day: driving, loading a heap of kid-gear, holding my bag, sharing french fries, pulling the wagon, periodically entertaining Little Man, unloading kid-gear, etc. She’s a great festival companion, should you ever have the chance to carpool with her.

Attendees link love: I spent glorious time with Pi Grrrl, Suzanne&Co, Cheryl, Terry, Kellee, Melanie, Kristen, and Julia, and unfortunately missed Pippi and Kat. For the record, Suzanne’s DH is a great festival man — kid wrangler, enabler, and bag/wagon tender. We love him. And Little Man is turning into a festival man too. He was remarkably well behaved. Seriously. Except for one key exception.
At Grafton Fibers booth, Little Man met the needle felted mermaid.  After a sedate round of questions and gentle touching of the mermaid:

Little Man burst into some intense mermaid-lusting misbehavior. After eagle-eyeing his gentle touches, I looked away for one split second and he grabbed the mini-mermaid and started swinging her around by her arm. AHHHH!!! I freaked. I saved mini-mermaid. I scolded. I was horrified. But Linda(?) said to me, “Don’t worry. I have three kids. Don’t freak out.” Then she turned to Little Man and said, “{his name}, do you like wool?” He stopped jumping around, nodded and came closer. She reached behind her, pulled out a handful of fluffy pinky purple fiber, handed it to Little Man, and said “Now you cuddle that, OK? You play with your own wool so your Mom doesn’t freak out, OK?” He grinned, nodded and smooshed the wool under his chin and snuggled it tightly. For the rest of the day, he snuggled that wool.

After he fell asleep last night, I was able to steal it and take a picture.

Linda(?) has to be the most generous vendor ever.  For all the parents out there — please buy from her.

But the big news is — and I hesitate to write this — I’ve officially fallen. With zero prompting, and even less consent, an innocent conversation about the unused drop spindle that I bought at last year’s NHS&W turned into plans for a golden winged chariot to carry a wheel to my house at some point in the next couple weeks. I’m afraid. Perhaps I shouldn’t tell them where I live?

Just in case they have the magical powers of Santa Claus (which I suspect they do), I had to prepare myself.

I can practically hear the knitters-turned-spinners howling with laughter from all sides of the globe. [shut up cate] Feel free to unleash the laughter on Danielle, who has her own story to tell.  Just sayin’.

Despite my terror, I’m also wicked excited.  So I’m releasing that excited energy by doing the Cheryl dance: “Cheryl’s the best!” [wiggle wiggle], “Cheryl’s the best!” [jump jump], “Cheryl’s the best!” [twirl twirl].

_________

*It’s a lie. She worked her tail off on Mother’s Day. First of all, we’re having a hard time determining how to split the day, and then she said we don’t have the luxury of celebrating. I think she might be referring to the state of perpetual DIY renovation. To that point, for Mother’s Day, Wifey got a really sassy pair of rain boots, and I got a lawn mower, a hedge trimmer and a Bleeding Heart plant. Yeah baby. Thank god for gay marriage. Everyone should bask in such luxury.

** Other news: I got into Ravelry and I’m a woman possessed. Truly. It’s divinity.

*** Even more news: I’ve been playing with Dana&Co lately and I adore them. Welcome to mecca Massachusetts, Dana.

This is the funniest thing I’ve seen in many years. Seriously. You can’t make this sh!t up.

Drunk man parks horse in German bank

as last year. Photos by Wifey.

Haverhill, MA

Lawrence, MA

Lawrence, MA

In 1994, I moved to a place just outside NYC, and soon thereafter, into the East Village. This was a big.thing. for a girl from upstate NY. When I moved there, I felt very sassy, very chic, and very alterna-chick, which may have been compounded by my recent charging coming out. I was just a tad insufferable and a smidge self-righteous. But shortly after my arrival, I got the good ol’ NYC-smack-down and realized: I was a hick. Thankfully I didn’t let my hick identity upset me. I had the.best.time.ever. It was an era of critically-important personal-growth, as well as many other things that can be hyphenated. When I left NY, I had every intention of going back within a couple years. Then I chased a girl to Boston, got my heart seriously broken, chased some tail (and I should publicly apologize to those tails - sorry), and met Wifey. The rest is history.

This morning, with plans for Favorite Things Monday dancing around my little brain, I logged on and found an email from a colleague. She tracks Overheard in New York and sends me the really funny ones. Today, I got this one. Seriously, I almost peed in my work pants.

Then I read Nina’s blog, and clicked through her photos of her weekend excursion to NYC. Memory lane. Fun times.

Then I read AfterEllen’s Happy Birthday to Cynthia Nixon post, and with a few clicks, came to this post with photos of Cynthia Nixon and her girlfriend. I know I’m being a mega-beeatch here, but seriously, Cynthia honey … I’m heavy and frumpy and androgynous and politically minded. Why not me?

Only in NY . . .

ETA: Okay, I feel bad.  Cynthia Nixon’s partner is actually kinda cute in this picture.  Nice rosy cheeks. And I’m sure she’s very smart.  And a rockstar in bed.  At least she’d better be.  Damn it Mafia.  Stop that!

What the fuck is this?

Why is an Asian woman dressed like a little girl?
Why is she pulling up her skirt for the camera?
Why is she dressed like a little girl and pulling up her skirt?
Why is she looking in the other direction? Is she being coy? Or is she uncomfortable?
What’s with the sock monkey? Is it simply to further enhance the little girl imagery?
What is she planning to do with her sock monkey? Hump it?
What’s with the corn field? Is she rushing off to the corn field to have an illicit affair with a sock monkey? Is this a solo excursion (i.e. she’s in control of pre-pubescent sexuality?) Or was she brought to the corn field by someone who needed a private place to take pictures of this hyper-sexualized child-like stance?

Why are we, in the craft world, accepting this shit?

Would you stand in the middle of a corn field, dressed like a little girl and pull up your skirt while holding a sock monkey?

Yeah, I didn’t think so.

It would feel really really fucked up, wouldn’t it?

This photo could be worse, I suppose, if she had pony tails and a delicate floral print.

Still — this photo is taking Cute-itis, which is nearly always associated with Japanese crafting culture, to a whole new level. It’s cute + sexist + cultural misappropriation + exoticizing + sexualizing childhood, all wrapped up in a funky mod package with an objectification bow.

Ever since I entered the cyber crafty world, I’ve been uncomfortable with the obsession with “cute.” Stuffies abound. I cringe when I see grown women across the craftosphere obsessing about all things “cute” but I tell myself “it’s not my cup of tea” and try not to be judgmental of other makers. Stuffed cats and dogs and dolls = yuck; a stuffed praying mantis = irony = cool. In other words, No Tea Cozies Without Irony.

However, this cover of N.E.E.T. Magazine is really gross. And I’m pissed. For better or worse (worse, I’d argue), crafting is primarily a female pursuit. Craft blogs are primarily written by women. Women are the target audience for magazines like Craft and N.E.E.T. In fact, N.E.E.T. is part of Bust’s Girl Wide Web.

With an attitude that is fierce, funny and proud to be female, BUST provides an uncensored view on the female experience. BUST tells the truth about women’s lives and presents a female perspective on pop culture. BUSTing stereotypes about women since 1993.

source: About BUST

We’re the target audience for N.E.E.T. — smart, creative, unique, diverse, savvy women. This imagery doesn’t speak to me, and if you agree, join me in correcting the misconceptions of the folks at N.E.E.T. by emailing them at:

has died of breast cancer. I’m so sad.

Tributes:
NYTimes
Boston Globe
Smith’s site
two pieces at The Nation.
*The one at the Texas Observer brought tears to my eyes.

So so sad.