TrickyTricot

TNNA, San Diego, and where you choose to stay...

***Edited to add, after the fact, the post below was written in response to several TNNA Members actions and statements on Ravelry.com.  It wasn't clear at the moment of writing whether these statements were or were not at all supported by actual TNNA officials, and in no way is the post below meant to insult or hinder the work that TNNA does.  It is intended to ask participants in their winter meeting to think twice about which hotel they book.***

Thursday night and I really need to be in a better place on knit-work to meet an approaching deadline.  Yes yes,Ted's right, my birthday (the big 3-0) just passed and we're past the annual birthday post, which I hope to do next week while at Knitting Camp in Wisconsin, but I felt like this post was timely enough that I wanted interested parties to be in the know.

Unless you've been living under a rock for the past few months, you know that California has ruled to support same-sex marriage (totally awesome!).  More recently, it's come to the surface that there are a few California-based services and establishments that are giving dollars towards overturning the ruling (or however these legal things work) to re-establish that marriage should be between a man and a woman (totally absurd in my mind).  For interested parties, the name of the hotels are Manchester Hotels, and there's a site out there detailing ways that you can show these businesses that we mean business by boycotting them and spending your dollars on gay-friendly establishments (visit www.boycottmanchesterhotels.com when you have yourself a pretty-minute). These hotels in particular have given more than $125K towards the cause - not chump change.

Meanwhile, TNNA (The National Needleworker's Association) will meet in San Diego in the winter.  TNNA is a great event - true, I've never been, but I think it's a great source for designers and editors alike to make all kinds of contacts that become the foundation for a significant portion of their work for the year and season. One of the host hotels for the event is a Manchester Hotel. 

For designers, editors, yarn store owners and others attending the event, I urge you, please look deep inside yourself and choose an alternative to this hotel. Gay marriage in California and Massachusetts is a huge deal for us gays - both are large states and in a lot of ways, when other states see folks making the move, they similarly do - it makes a BIG deal to those of us who want to marry, and can't, because of some crazy laws that are based on the church's opinion. I urge you to "vote with your pocketbook" and choose an establishment that doesn't support hate-mongering and limiting rights.

Let me be clear, I am not in any way suggesting you not go to or not support TNNA.  I absolutely understand where they are and where they're coming from. You organize an event, you book a hotel block and when faced with not meeting the block, let's just say it's like when you go to buy a bag of M&Ms and decide to eat 2 and return the bag.  Hotel blocks don't work that way - you say you'll buy or get reservations: you get the rooms either way (AND, sometimes, hotels can rebook the rooms if they're vacant). Further, it's not their fault - hotels are booked years out, and let me tell you, as a meeting planner, you have no time to research political values and what hotels choose to support with their money, or hell, knowing that when you (or more likely, your predecessor) sign a contract for five years down the line.

I want to see TNNA succeed and continue to be a resource for the field - but please, when booking your hotel, choose freedom, choose marriage, choose equality, and make a choice that you can feel good about when gay guys - like me - come into your store to spend their gay dollars on hundreds of dollars of sock yarn.

PS If you're not supportive of gay marriage or want to make some crazy comment about how we're all going to burn in hell for being butt-buddies, I don't want to hear it and my comments are not a forum for you and your crazy values.  I normally leave all comments up, but I have no problem signing in, hitting the delete button, and making every effort I can to block comments from you in the future.  Hell, maybe I'll make a list and sign you up for crap from all my favorite gay establishments - anyway - bottom line, if you can't be nice, go away.

PS2 For TNNA members who've started this "dialogue", I want to love you. But, locking the thread on ravelry in the TNNA forums to stop the conversation was in poor taste.  Dialogue is essential to creating an environment where all people feel their perspectives and needs are being addressed.  From years of experience working with dialogue-based organizations, when you snuff the dialogue, divisive issues build up in the community and that can be very hurtful to social networks. Please, re-open the thread for discussion.

Proustian Summer and Professional Speedbumps

Wednesday evening.  The heat has *finally* broken in Washington.  For me, 100 degrees isn't that bad - folks here whine hardcore about the heat and humidity.  Sure, it's uncomfortable - but what I find most interesting for myself is how hot weather is a Proustian-cup-of-tilleul-and-madeleine- experience.  This week, I spent a lot of time thinking about hot weather in France, when I lived in Valence for a summer with une famille francaise, and last summer, when we were in Venice and Rome - and the heat was so bad it was like being in an oven.  Both cases -- all three locales -- I was exceptionally happy; so being in heat, humidity, and general discomfortness outside this week was wonderful.  If only I had a pool - then I'd be able to relive those summers spent in St. Pete's with my grandparents -- and the pool they had -- and the hours I spent in it every day.

Even with the warm temperatures and what's clearly summer time in DC -- and the impending arrival of the longest day of the year, I'm not quite feeling the same sinking into summer relaxedness I usually feel.  Next week, I'm off to Philadelphia for our annual convention, which will be interesting and very stressful - as those things always are.  In a lot of ways, the four days spent are very much like parallel parking -- you ease into the space of that time, being very careful not to do mental (or emotional - or even physical) damage to yourself -- only to find that when you've experienced all the stress of easing into that space, the time is over - and you're on your way back to town.  Man, I hate parallel parking. But, this experience is very much "me" -- in these types of situations, I'm very much "on show"... I don't want the buyers seeing all the dents and cracks (whereas, when I'm out here writing - or out on the road, I actually think the dents and cracks make me a better author. Go figure).

Needless to say, I'm feeling some advance event stress and anxiety.  Nothing new - same ol same ol.

On the flip side, my creative juices are going gang busters.  I've been sketching *a lot* lately - which isn't usually part of my design process at all.  I made this silly goal a week or so ago that I would try and sketch 5 new designs a day -- even if they were crap -- and it's been going pretty well.  Some have made it to swatch, which is really awesome and I'm psyched about.  I like the idea of having a backlog of developed designs - it makes them easier to sell -- and it becomes good fodder for another book (which I'd like to do sooner than I think I can, but...).

The impending departure from DC has hit a few roadblocks - not even roadblocks - speedbumps.  In a lot of ways, I feel like a kid the first time he's hit a swimming pool.  You know, you've got your floaties on, you're with your mom, she's telling you it's ok you'll be fine - and you're like "Hell no lady... I'm not letting go, I don't care how fine you think I'll be."  I think I may have even screamed bloody murder when I was in the pool the first time, I was so scared. [I later came to love the water - go figure]. Then, you gather your courage and you go... and everything's alright.  Professionally speaking, it's how I'm feeling - no safety net [aside from my savings], no floaties [aside from all the work I think I can get, plus time to design]... I'm a bit scared - what I need is a push (I think even saying that is kind of scary - because I really don't want a push). Truthfully, I'm feeling like if I picked up and left tomorrow - I could make it work -- but in reality, I like the idea of having a cushy job to move to -- you know, just in case rather than working from home, I actually would rather just watch cartoons all day and you know, not get paid. But, it's all going to come to a head soon - so we'll see.

Knitwise, I've finally broken down and started to hire knitters to do the "grunt work" for me.  It means that I can design and write more (which I'm doing), but also means I get less dough. I have a great knitter doing work for me right now - I'd tell you who she is, but I don't want you stealing her from me so... I've got a whole bunch of stuff coming up, so there's some steam building....  I owe some photos to folks, but, of course, have lost my camera battery charger, so we're SOL til that comes in.

Finally, I've been accepted to SOAR in October - if you're going, either from the DC area, or elsewhere, let me know so we can connect.  I'm only staying for the workshop...  Meanwhile, I'm thinking of going back to Easton in August for Gay Spirit Camp.  If you're a MSKR-er and are similarly interested -- and have the dough -- let's make it easier for both of us!

Onwards all.  I promise to take good photos in Philly -- I'll have the pleasure of seeing Maxfield Parrish's "Dream Garden" at the Curtis Building while there, which will be a high point.  If you're a Phill-ier, hit me up and maybe we can grab coffee.

MSKR 08

Tuesday afternoon. It was clouds and rain this morning, then clouds and wind this afternoon, and now: clear and sun - to clear and dusk - and what I believe will be clear and Monday (Memorial Day, to come) in DC. It's cool outside. As I came back from lunch with Dan today, a woman stopped me in the elevator and was telling me how cool and sticky it is / was outside -- we both hoped that it wouldn't be this way all week.  Looking up and on, I think we'll have 70s and sun - and soon, 80s and sun.  Summer is coming - spring has been cool, I think we all think we're in for a cool summer.  May be too soon to tell.

I'm here... in body - but clearly not in heart and mind, where I'm still in New York, the foothills of (what I believe are) the Green Mountains and sitting on the porch of the main lodge at Easton Mountain
, reliving the greatness of the weekend and the Men's Spring Knitting Retreat. In truth, I had feared I might not have a spring gathering experience this year - the MidAtlantic Mens Gathering is somewhat in transition.  Our relationship with our site has undergone some diress - and as a result, both of that stress - and our own planner burnout, not to mention the fact that so many attendees have dropped off to take part in other holiday weekend plans - a result of their unwillingness, I suspect, to make the travel - we needed to cancel this year's Spring Gathering.  The first in a long line of Spring Gatherings not to happen, I know I was somewhat saddened. 

With the opportunity to be at the MSKR, I feel like that need was satisfied in a deeply powerful way.  Others who were there, will tell the travelogue of their own experience as they can (there's a great photo-essay on Joe's site, and a few photos on flickr - one where it looks like I have calf hips and calves), but I'd like to share my own experience - both to process and to share (it's therapy for all!).  I'm hesitant to go on and on about how great it was - my selfish thinking wants to tell you all it's like runny eggs (ew, runny eggs), so next year it'll be 30 of the same great guys that it was this year - that it'll be something small and special and unknown. Like the small restaurants on 9th street - or the great galleries nestled downtown.  But I can't - I'm a writer - it's in my nature to tell my story. Onwards.

To set the scene, last week, and the weekend before, the MidAtlantic saw more rain in one focused length of time than any other - well for a long time.  As a result, beyond the many homes flooded and damaged in Maryland and Virginia, and beyond the sinkholes all over the area still unravelling earth, many of us probably couldn't stand another clouded sky day - me, I know for sure.  The rain had done a serious number on my allergies -  cool, wetness had somehow gotten inside my head and was punching headache after headache my way, plus a un-relievable tightness in my neck and shoulders.  This, compounded with this overwhelming feeling that I was / am being hurtled through space unavoidably towards the future, made me think maybe I'd skip out... spend a few days at home and not go. One thing I hate almost as much as runny eggs (eww, runny eggs), is being away from home and ill.  I don't like being a burden to someone, and I don't like not being able to run away and do the "pet dying alone in the woods" act (you know, you're sick - rather than be out and about, you'd like to hang low and not be seen). 

Come Friday morning, when my flight was set to leave DCA for Albany, I pushed myself out the door.  It was too late to cancel the flight, and I felt I might as well just go. Besides, I just bought a new wheel just so that I could travel and learn new skills - it'd be like I'd wasted that money on something I wouldn't use.  So, I *had* to go.  I arrived at the airport as early as usual - about two hours - I need to remind myself this is *way* too early... despite folks always telling me get their early, I can't think of a single instance where I haven't made my way through check in and security in under 10 minutes. Anyway,I boarded the packed plane from DC to Albany (Note to US Airways and Republic Airlines - the bathrooms on your shuttles are too small for the average man with calf hips and calves), where I met Stephen, and Dave from Easton - and we were on our way through the countryside - past the physical home of Uncle Sam, past two alpaca farms, and up the dirt road to the site. 

Once there, we met up with a few early birds - this cutie-patootie from Fort Lauderdale (partnered, so I restrained myself - besides, he didn't know what a blog is) and Kenny (of copyright-infringement fame - you girls on Ravelry make us crazy with your craziness).  We all ate a bit of lunch, got settled in our rooms (somehow I managed to get a full size bed in Easton's lovely guest house - a total dream which I can thank my MGM roommate for), and walked the grounds a bit.  Participants continued to arrive - and so the weekend began. 

Rather than recount what follows next - because getting there really is half the story - I can say I met a lot of great guys this weekend.  30 to be exact - it was great to reconnect with Guido, to meet Joe and Ted after so many months (or years of chat online), and to meet new male knitter friends, too numerous to name (or who's faces are burned in me, but names will likely fade).  My goal for the weekend was to slow that "hurtling through space uncontrollably" feeling - I spent a lot of time chatting with folks.  In fact, aside from a great cotton spinning workshop with Chris on Saturday, I spent most of Saturday (and the rest of the weekend) chatting with Canadian Van, Ted, Danny, and others - watching the pond and seeing the various wildlife of mid-state New York. 

There were some great moments to be sure - being in the sauna was one.  It was warm and the heat clenched its fists around my tight neck muscles and pulled them free (though admittedly, being nearly naked among other knitters is a bit freaky - I think some folks were too freaked out to even pursue it - which I understand, but relaxation has it's price - and I had to trust that rumors of my calf sized hips and calves would be limited). Talking to knitters individually, was another - hearing their stories centered some deep questions for me, which was very healing (I use that word sparingly, and will purposefully neglect details).  Hearing how "Knitting with Balls" impacted knitters there was another - a moment of great honor and humble-ness - to all who mentioned something meaningful to me, I am incredibly honored and was thrilled to make your acquaintance. The perfect view on Saturday was still another - I saw Redwing Blackbirds, Orioles, Goldfinches, a family of geese, a Great Blue Heron, Robins, Blue Jays, and a full arsenal of other wildlife I never see (including a wee pony and some baby Alpaca on the way there).

There were of course great material goodies too.  Ted  did an amazing service and asked sponsors including Black Bunny Fibers, Briar Rose, Louet, Schoolhouse Press, Threadbare, and many many others to donate goods for door prizes.  From that - and the ensuing process, I managed to score 4oz of Oceanwind Knits roving in a wonderful watery green color, 8oz of Karaoke from Louet, and 3 silk hankies that I can't wait to spin.  PLUS, from Chris' great cotton spinning workshop, I think I managed to score a pound (or more) of various types of cotton which'll be fun to practice with.

Leaving on Sunday was hard. In fact, coming back to DC was a lot harder than I think it ever has been.  Usually by a few days away, I'm ready to come back.  I'm usually hungry by then for some Baja Fresh and a latte - I'm ready to sit at the TV and watch hours of America's Next Top Model (I can't believe Whitney won the last cycle - I think Tyra realizes that ANTM is nearly done, she wanted to see a full figure girl take the cup - good for her).  BUT, come Sunday afternoon post-lunch, I really didn't want to go - I was on the verge of holding onto the lodge for dear life, to be pried away (not really - I did need to get to the airport, I am after all an adult). 

Still, anyone who was there can identify with what I was feeling.  For all of us, whether we know it or not, being in community - a real, living, honest to G-d community - is a luxury.  Think about it - you live in a city, you meet guys, there's always someone prettier or smarter to see and chat up, there's always somewhere else to rush off to, always something else to buy; but, when you gather in the middle of nowhere, united by a common craft, something shifts.  Life slows down - and simple interactions like showing off a finished product or sharing a meal turn from mundane to deeply meaningful. And, amongst your brethren (straight and gay), you realize that life is so much bigger and wonderful - and you wonder why you can't live like that always.

For me personally, I came to understand how small my life feels at 29.  I work 9 to 5, then often 6-11 and onwards. My home is a shoebox, with cardboard walls and an easy-bake oven.  I live in a city I've never really loved, I have a small circle of local people I dare-to-call friends, I have long talked about and dreamed of northern pastures, and though I have a great job - I hunger for an environment where "How are you?" is more than a nicety, and an actual concern for someone else's well being (this is a reflection on the city, not on my job in any way).  It sounds odd to leave the city and to head to the country to knit and to feel like you're living large, but it's definitely my experience.  All I've got to do now, is live up to the experience and carry it forward. 

Vermont - I'm coming your way as soon as I'm able.

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Knittingwise, I very much want to show you what I thought would have been sock weight and length (which turned out to be dk weight and not sock length) spinning - plus my newest spinning project, a completed Fugl, and the near complete Sock Kureyon Socks - but this is a very busy week that I'm already behind on and deadlines loom.  It's a 3-day weekend to come, so I'll be back before you know it.