I met a 70 year old hooker named Velvet. A rug-hooker. I like her name, because back then it wouldn't have sounded so porn-ish like it does now. Anyways, I had quite a few hooked rugs and wanted to learn how to repair them - a friend wanted to do it as well, so we went to our first hooking bee and met a nice group of lady hookers. I still had my right arm in a sling, recovery from Carpal Tunnel surgery, so it wasn't the best timing. I will also admit that the rug I started is one of many unfinished projects lingering around here.
I like that hooked rugs are folk art -the geometric patterns, colors and naive, funky images. Over time, hitting estate sales, I found a few that I really love and use. My husband also ended up with a collection of antique hooked rugs from his family.
The lovely lady, below, is so weird that I had to have her. Found at a garage sale I had with some friends - swapping stuff.
I love the fuzzy hair and the painted nails, the topographical boobs. I love how m-m-m-my Sharona she is. I don't have her out in the house, because she is too weird and it would be even stranger to walk on or wipe your shoes on her. Plus, shoes might flatten her cleavage.
{Sometimes I picture my boys sorting through our possessions in preparation for our estate sale and I really feel for them.}
