Our helicopter banked sharply to the right. I could see straight down to the canyon floor, thousands of feet below us. Mist from the clouds swirled through the cabin. I clung to the strap that was bolted above my head, my fingers aching from the tight grip. I wasn’t sure if it was wind, tears, … Continue reading The Helicopter Ride
I will attempt to say this as politely as possible. I do not want there to be any hurt feelings. I am pretty darn sure that my yarn is not (I will whisper now), as smart as other people’s yarn. My yarn simply cannot do what others peoples yarn does. In her book “The … Continue reading My Yarn is “slow”
We had spent the morning exploring the narrow, earthen alleys and passageways of the souk in Fes, Morocco, on a blistering hot day. We had seen everything from master wood carvers at work, to huge vats of tanned leather, and even a severed camels head, hanging from a stall in the meat market. When I … Continue reading Yarn: Dead or Alive?
I was standing on a three foot wide wooden walkway, the walkway was suspended from the side of a towering cliff. Gusts of wind blasted me, while I held my helmet to my head with my hand, and plaster my body against the canyon wall to stay upright. I was beginning to question my decision … Continue reading Caminito Del Rey
I experienced a yarngasm... in public. I tried not to. Really I did, but some things simply cannot be stopped. With one look at that sensuous yarn, I was filled with an intense physical need to touch it, to feel the warm, soft, tenderness against my skin. Ahhh, Qiviut.