Monday, July 22, 2013

Misadventures in Crafting Part 1: Buried Alive

Hello J My name is Tara Fox Hall and you’ve seen me on these pages before as a guest from time to time. I’ve been invited to be a regular contributor to Moonlight Romance Authors by the very kind Regina Paul. So to begin my first regular blogging journey, I’m here to talk about the fact I’m being buried alive in yarn.

How did it happen? Well…a relative, now deceased, was a yarn hoarder. When I learned that there was some yarn from the estate that no one wanted, I jumped at the chance to get some. I like to make simple knitted scarves each year—meaning 3-4 usually—to send to Native American reservations out West that have very frigid winters and not very many resources. A box of yarn would be welcome, and would mean money I could save to help promote my books (wink!).

It was only when I got the first delivery of yarn that I understood the magnitude of what I had signed up for. There was not a box of yarn with a few leftover skeins. There was not two…or three…or five. There were many, many boxes all FULL of untouched skeins of yarn! (Untouched by humans, that is…because little furry opportunists had been hard at work in some of the boxes making nests…ensuring that some entire boxes needed to be washed).

In short, there is enough yarn to bury me alive, literally.

There are to date also ten projects in various stages of completion I’ve discovered so far…and the yarn to complete them. The problem? These are crochet projects. I only know how to knit (and am a beginner at macramĂ©). There are crochet hooks aplenty in all sizes, too…and something that resembles a jump rope made of wood and plastic that I think might be a yarn winder. (Anyone guess at what this could be?) There is also rug yarn aplenty, some of good heavy quality and some of decent quality, but definitely enough for at least 3 rugs of average size. I know how to latchhook and am experienced in rug design, so the how-to is there…I just need to design very colorful rigs, as there are many, many colors to use up. And all this rug yarn is uncut…so just the cutting will take significant time.

I’ve just had my second shipment and await a third in the next few days. All yarn needing washing so far has been processed (Thank God for washing machines, old pillowcases, and my relative’s love for acrylic…with  slight curse for this relative’s bizarre need to roll entire skeins into balls, which then all unravel and tangle together!). I do have to untangle the mess and reroll the balls washed yesterday, but I am keeping ahead of the shipments so far. With luck, I likely will continue to do so. It’s not a magic house; the yarn supply is finite. But once the shipments are all here and clean, what to do with them? Scarves are a certainly, but what else? Here is my possible list. Feel free to make suggestions!

  1. Pile all the yarn together and take a picture for posterity.
  2. Learn to crochet, to finish the projects that are almost done that are pretty (and more than 50% complete).
  3. Sort the rest of the regular yarn, putting bigger lots into piles and deciding on projects.
  4. Cut the rug yarn, to help determine possible patterns
  5. Decide on rug patterns and sizes. (A Promise Me rug?)
  6. Get lattice for latchhooking sufficient for the rugs
  7. Get started!

Join me in the coming months here for updates on my progress…or lack thereof! All support is vastly welcomed!

Blurb:    After learning Theo is alive, Sar immediately embarks on a mission to find him. Reunited, the lovers return to New York; Danial, Terian and Theo uneasily combining forces to protect Sar from Al’s assassins still seeking her. But when Sar is taken prisoner in an all-out attack, only one man can save her: her old adversary, Devlin.

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I cried a few tears, turned out the light and let my mind drift. Just as I was falling asleep, I remembered the potion. Terian had said the potion would recreate the dream with Theo, but that when it ended, the dream would fade from memory.
I needed to put my feelings for Theo to rest and let him get on with his life. It was time to be done with dreams and get back to reality.
I turned the light back on and got up, rummaging around in my duffel bag. I found it and spent a few minutes removing the vial from the bubble wrap I’d taped around it for safekeeping. I uncorked the top and drank. The taste was bitter. This was it, the end of him and me. I packed the empty potion vial for Terian for reuse, then lay down. I drifted in a sleep-sort of fog and finally begin to dream.
It was my home, my farm. Again, I stood there, calling out to Theo to wait, not to leave.
Again, he stood motionless at the door for a second and then he turned to me, riding me to the floor. Kissing me roughly, as we tore off our clothes as fast as we could.
Every memory came back in full force, sweeping me away in a storm of emotion. It washed away the years with Danial, even everything I felt for Elle and Theoron. There was only Theo and I. We were one.
Theo made love to me again and again. I relished his body next to mine, his muscles holding me, moving me, pleasuring me. Soreness set in as night fell, but I renewed my efforts, knowing that the end was near. As Theo finished and reached for me, I pushed him away.
“Sar?” he said questioningly, his eyes worried, his hand outstretched.
In a few seconds, Danial’s voice would sound. This was it, the end.
In desperation, I shouted, “Theo, I love you, I love you more than anything or anyone. I’ll love you the rest of my life!”
As my words tore out of me, Theo’s body flickered. Suddenly thin scars appeared on his shoulders from a whip, the edges raised and red, then similar scars on his chest. A mass of scar tissue bloomed whitely on his hip.
I lunged for his outstretched hand as he faded before me.
I fell out of the motel room bed, landing on the floor. The room reeked with the odor of lovemaking, the odor of sex.
“God damn it, no!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
I’d fucked up badly. I’d forgotten Terian’s words to me the night he’d given me the potion, telling me about the dream it would create for me one last time.
“And he’s not here to renew it with you…”
Terian had said it, thinking as I did that Theo was dead. But Theo wasn’t dead, he was alive. I’d reached out and touched him again with another dream. Moreover, this time, he’d know immediately that what had happened was no regular dream. He’d come looking for me, remembering the scent he’d caught wind of a week ago.
God, I had to get gone as fast as I could!
I threw on some clothes and frantically gathered up my things. There was no time for a shower or food. We had to get moving!
I grabbed up my duffel and ran for the door, my keys in my hand. A footstep sounded outside my door and then the door was kicked open, flying back hard to slam the outer wall.
Theo stood there breathing hard, his eyes dark as a storm. He reeked of sex the way I did.
I hoped for his sake he’d woken up alone.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he said, his voice deep and rough. He slammed the door behind him and locked it.
“Theo, I—”
“You are going nowhere, Sar.” He strode over, anger pouring off him. He grabbed my keys and threw them. My duffel followed. He pushed me to the bed roughly, then covered my body with his own. “You want me so bad, Sar, here I am,” he snarled, his eyes gone yellow. His fingers were claws, digging into my skin.
I closed my eyes, trembling.
He put his hand on the side of my face and gripped my jaw. “Open your eyes,” he said roughly.
I opened them, my vision swimming with tears.
 “Don’t cry, Sar. You wanted this badly enough to send me another dream.”
“I’m sorry—”
He bared his fangs at me in a snarl and roared deafeningly. I shrank back from him as much as possible.

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