Why you should buy local wool, from WhipUp.net

"Processing wool in Australia is fast becoming a dying art, and wool needs to stay in Australia for creation from sheep to skein in order to support small farmers and micro business."

Kylie Gusset wants Australian wool to be processed in Australia. Most Australian merino is shipped to China to be cleaned and is then sent back to Australia for spinning.

Does American wool go to China for scouring? What about all the lovely wool from South America?

I'm curious to learn more about the process of making commercial yarn. Not to mention commercial ice cream (also mentioned in the article).

You can help fund Kylie's project on Pozible, a crowdsourced funding platform similar to Kickstarter.

Why you should buy local wool — whip up.

A Rainy Sunday Project: Alien "Uglydoll"


Saturday morning we had breakfast at Le Pain Quotidien, where I tried the Oatmeal with Stone Fruits and Granola to see if it held a candle to my beloved Harvest Porridge. (It was tasty, but it's no farro porridge.) After a trip to Hecksher Playground, via the most strange entrance to any public playground ever, we found ourselves at the mecca of all things toys, FAO Schwartz.

We followed an unfortunate employee sporting a giant life-size Uglydoll costume to the cars and trucks department. Apparently Jr was fascinated by the Uglydoll. I reminded him that he has one - it's "out of rotation" in his closet. When we arrived home he was insistent that we immediately find the little green plushie, who was given a place of honor on his pillow.

Yesterday Mr A and I were informed that the Uglydoll was lonely and needed a friend. Because apparently the stuffed dinosaur, crayfish, dog, manatee, gnome, Totoro and robot plus the three plastic bugs that live on his bed are not enough? Regardless, supplies were gathered. Jr was very specific as to the number of eyes (3) and their location, as well as the number of legs (also 3). Mr Apparently made sketches. I was dispatched to the sewing machine, where an old pair of wool pants was dissected and emerged as the alien's body.


Meet the newest member of the menagerie, Garblidge. He eats bug sandwiches.

For Michael

When I first met Michael, he looked like a girl. We were 18, and he was playing Sebastian in a college production of Twelfth Night. His hair had been cut and highlighted to match the pixie 'do of the woman playing Viola. That the two were a couple at the time made it all the more bizarre. This was just the first of the ridiculous juxtapositions that I would discover Michael consumed as a sort of alternative fuel.

michael mclaughlin

Joel, me, Michael in Norfolk MA, 1996

Our friendship was fast, strong and not unlike an onion. His first dorm room contained a giant inflatable snake; his last was a tiny, secluded haven imbued with a faint scent of Indian cigarettes.

After the diaspora of graduation, living in different states and time zones in the last decade before long-distance was essentially free, we turned to letters. Stacks of letters. He would mail multiple mismatched pages scrawled on the backs of old resumes and tiny fringed papers torn from spiral-bound notebooks. The pages would encompass several days, sometimes weeks, revealing out-and-about musings from the Hungarian Pastry Shop or a shaded bench in his hometown. The return addresses were often absurd: "Bureau of the Internal Revenue, Office 4." His envelopes tied shut with string and paper buttons.

michael mclaughlin

Lauren, Michael, me, Deanna. August 2006

We etched a skewed parallelogram over the country: California, Minnesota, New York, Massachusetts. Whenever we were in the same state, which turned out to be surprisingly often, Michael and I would meet for dinner. We'd conjure up novel ways to hire each other for film projects and guest-artist lectures.

michael mclaughlin

Manhattan, 2006

Michael and I lived in Boston at the same time, and then moved to New York at the same time. We held candles with his neighbors on September 12. He talked me into a trip to New York to perform in one of his puppet plays, long after I'd stopped performing. He always created the puppet costumes at the eleventh hour.

michael mclaughlin

Sunnyside, 2008

michael mclaughlin

Sunnyside, 2008

My neighborhood is something of a haven for our college crowd, and by the time he was to drown in Mexico two years ago, we had reduced our wingspan from two thousand miles to four blocks. He was one of the first people to hold my newborn son. We made fewer plans yet enjoyed more spontaneous cocktails.

michael mclaughlin

Michael filming Richard Serra, 2006

Two years, or twenty-three, have gone into writing this post. It's just a snapshot; anything else I might like to say veers into territory too emotional or personal. But Michael is disappearing from the web, and I want him to have just a tiny place that is still google-able. He will always be right here.

michael mclaughlin

Dia: Beacon, 2006

michael mclaughlin

Dia: Beacon, 2006


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