cross stitched magic phone

We got magic phones which meant that I was forced to get this iPhone cover. It's a hard life.

I sketched this MN and plotted out my x's.

y

I was pleased with the result-- especially the heart over the Twin Cities -- but it looked a little lonely all alone. Poor little state.

So I grew it a tree with pink blossoms.

the nothing place and a call to arms

I am in a fight with my brain. 

My old nemesis Depression and his sweaty faced toady Anxiety are trying to move back into my brain and take over. I want to sparkle, live in my happy body, move forward with my hope and take great pleasure in every moment, but my brain is having a hard time fending off those two Assholes who make me hate myself, my body, my surroundings and paralyze me in the nothing place. 

"C'mon, brain," I say, "we're smarter than this. Just throw them out and we can get back to business!"

 "It's not about smart!", my brain counters between pummelings, "It's about energy! It's about communion! It's about feeding the well!"

I need help in my fight, friends. I need to walk, drink coffee, have dates, remind myself how to sparkle, and feed my well.

Will you help me?

etsy shop!

First Snow Neck Wraps on the Highline

Holy cats! I launched my etsy shop, emilou gnu gknits! I did it!

In the winter of 2010, as the first Minnesota snow fell, my husband snapped a picture of me in my very first knit design and the First Snow Neck Wrap was born.

One of a kind hand knit neck wraps with vintage buttons. Looks beautiful inside or outside your coat. Keep your neck and chest toasty without extra bulk!


Brown Sheep Lamb's Pride yarn 85% wool/15% mohair.


Hand wash cool and lay flat to dry.


Ready to ship!


Custom orders also available. Please, contact me.

favorite new blog

2 Tiny Tyrants is my new favorite read. Authored by my gorgeous friend Katrina all about her gorgeous husband and their two stunningly beautiful children who are, dispute their beauty, tiny tyrants. I love it because it blows up this idealised vision of motherhood that even I, despite my years of babysitting other people's tyrants, still hold in my head. Katrina is earthy, arty, farmy, crafty -- all of the traits of those mothers whose craft driven farm blogs I devour, but Katrina is writing about how fucking hard it all is. It's so funny, frank and fabulous. Enjoy

2 Tiny Tyrants

by the by, i made a thingy

I give you, my website. Still constructing, but I threw it up rather quickly with good results! Come visit. Send me a message.

www.emilygunyouhalaas.com

hurrah for the lamb or post 100

My new favorite song learned at Indian Neck from the lovely goat whisperer above. It's apparently a Civil War era song. The Open School kid in me wants to teach it to everyone I know, but I think I'll probably just teach it to my organizing step-sister.

Such beauty and big feeling in CT. Still unpacking it all.

Moving to a new apartment in two weeks, big sis put on bed rest needing lots of help, Chris Bayes workshop three days after we move... I think Mary and her lamb are gonna march me through to the other side.

+++

MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB

Mary had a little lamb, a little lamb, a little lamb
Mary had a little lamb, its fleece was white as snow
And everywhere that Mary went, Mary went, Mary went
Everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go

Hurrah for Mary, hurrah for the lamb
Hurrah for the Union boys who did not give a damn
And everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go
Shouting the battlecry of freedom

It followed her to school one day, school one day, school one day
It followed her to school one day, which was against the rules
And when the teacher turned it out, kicked it out, shoved it out
And when the teacher kicked it out, it --pffft-- against the wall

Hurrah for Mary, hurrah for the lamb
Hurrah for the Union boys who did not give a damn
And everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go
Shouting the battlecry of freedom

Mary had a little lamb, a little lamb, a little lamb
Mary had a little lamb, her father shot it dead
Now Mary takes her lamb to school, lamb to school, lamb to school
Mary takes her lamb to school between two slabs of bread

Hurrah for Mary, hurrah for the lamb
Hurrah for the Union boys who did not give a damn
And everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go
Shouting the battlecry of freedom

this moment

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

this moment

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

this moment

Giving this lovely idea a whirl.

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.

Everytime I encounter more news about Trayvon Martin, I'm somehow reminded of Rachel Corrie's words:

"I can't believe that something like this can happen in the world without a bigger outcry. It hurts me, again, like it has hurt me in the past, to witness how awful we can allow the world to be.... Disbelief and horror is what I feel. Disappointment. I am disappointed that this is the base reality of our world and that we, in fact, participate in it. This is not at all what I asked for when I came into this world. This is not what they are asking for now. This is not the world you and Dad wanted me to come into when I was two and looked at Capitol Lake and said 'This is the wide world and I'm coming to it.'"

Stories like this make me feel disappointed, not in the unenlightened cops, but in our failure to enlighten them. Our failure to protect Trayvon Martin who needed the protection of a precious cultural asset prescislely because he was a young, black man. Maybe it is naïveté on my part to feel disappointed and even surprised, but I do. I am. How can this continue to happen in my seemingly enlightened world? How have we come so far as a people, but not nearly far enough? I do not accept it. But I don't know what to do.

What do we do? I'm truly asking.

sunning sock

Sweet P is in constant search for colorful men's clothes that are not of the polo or Hawaiian shirt variety. Why men feel their masculinity won't be threatened by bright colors as long as they look like they could be on a golf course or on vacation is beyond me. What about the men who enjoy sweaters, button ups an t-shirts? And worse, what about the men who require a Tall Large or a size 13 to fit their frames and feet? "Here's some navy blue and hunter green! Those non-colors will best fit the huge canvas you've provided."

While he has been able to scout out more colorful sweaters and shirts, footwear continues to be the bain of his mission. Yes, argyle exists, but it tends to fall under the acceptable "kooky" dressing choice that Hawaiian shirts fall under. Yes, bright athletic shoes exist, but Sweet P is not, nor will he ever be, a big Black basketball player. I know. It crushed his childhood dreams when he realized he'd never be Black, because clearly the trifecta was key.

So, I'm knitting him some bright socks. I mean look at those! Yow! Hurts your eyes a little! But lets remember that when the sweet little sales lady at Nordstroms asked him what sort of pink he wanted for his groomsmen's ties he answered, without irony, "Really fucking pink." He takes color seriously and those are some serious socks.

We opened My Ántonia in Detroit Lakes on Saturday. It went well. I don't know if it's the show, the people or Ántonia herself, but I seem to be crawling out of the crippling fear that has clouded my work for the past two plus years. My dad always tells me I'm good at suffering, so working on a long suffering character that very healthily chooses life and forward motion rather than regret has put me in, forgive the phrase, a good headspace. I feel light and full. I feel the very color of feather. I feel myself walking back into the Emily shaped space. I don't want to jinx it, but I feel a little proud.

I continue to book work on a less frequent basis, but feel it a blessing more and more since it leaves space for creating my own opportunities. I've long made my own privilege and it feels good to be forced to make it again.

Meanwhile, I'll merrily jump on our tour bus and knit my way to the next venue when we are privileged to share Ántonia and Jim's glorious story. Catch us when we're in Minneapolis:

My Ántonia
adapted by Alison Moore
directed by Michael Robins
presented by Illusion Theatre at The Cowles Center

Thursday, February 16, 2012 at 10:00AM
Friday, February 17, 2012 at 8:00PM
Saturday, February 18, 2012 at 8:00PM
Sunday, February 19, 2012 at 7:00PM

huevos and eggies

crafty

I wore holes clean through the heels of my lovely SmartWool knee highs. Too sad to let them go, I crafted the legs and insteps into fingerless gloves and the toes into cat toys. Olive approves: