The smell of beer, mixed with vomit and urine, permeated the air. I stepped gingerly around puddles, of who knows what, pooling on the ground. I wished that my toes were covered. Yuck. Women all around me were lifting their shirts and showing their breasts, in exchange for worthless beads. I was drinking a foot … Continue reading St. Patrick’s in New Orleans
The wait staff paraded through the restaurant, winding their way between tables, until they arrived at ours. With a flourish one snapped open my napkin, while another presented the main event. Suddenly I was looking eye to eye with an entire baby pig; legs, snout, tail, the whole thing. I was not a vegetarian, … Continue reading Segovia and Suckling Pig
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 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.
Travel Yarns 