DebR's post du jour with all the oldies put me in a way-back frame of mind and when you don't have anything to post about what art you are up to, resorting to pet and old baby pictures is always a safe bet.
Yep, the big one is me, six or seven, the Ringleader and if sh*t happened.. it was all my fault. To my left, Kitty. How do you like them prison haircuts? I think it was the following year that Mom took Kitty and I to Macy's in White Plains (Where Santa Claus lived in the off season!) to a so-called specialist in children's haircuts. I will never forget how he sawed our braids off at the root without even undoing them. Mine, fat and stubby, Kitty's long and thin. My mother cried as she picked them up and wrapped rubber bands around the cut ends. The fiend gave us the popular Pixie haircut. My hair grew straight out from my head. With those giant teeth I looked more like a half-grown lion cub than a Pixie.
These days Kitty is still the dashing professional. How many of you can say you have a following? Next to her is baby sister Patty, a single, two-job working Mom to a teenage daughter, but don't pity her, she's so good at it all. Martha Stewart could eat off her floors.
On my right, baby brother Robbie, my charge, which is why he grew up wild. I have one of those half-baked memories that no one will admit to. We all had harnesses with zippers in the front and leashes hooked to the back and I seem to recall being hitched like a sled dog to Robbie's stroller. Why not? We were a powerful troika. I would have done the same thing with four kids.
Rob became a father for the first time two years ago this April - twin boys! He lives to see Ryder and Reno conquer the world, all the while living with my parents and being their main care-giver - not that they would ever admit to needing one. The babies light up their lives.
Right now my Mom is in the hospital undergoing a battery of tests before surgery. She has been in poor health most of her life and has outlived all of her friends, three of whom passed just last year, and most of her family.
Eight hundred miles away, I am holding my breath too often these days.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
The Sibs
DebR's post du jour with all the oldies put me in a way-back frame of mind and when you don't have anything to post about what art you are up to, resorting to pet and old baby pictures is always a safe bet.
Yep, the big one is me, six or seven, the Ringleader and if sh*t happened.. it was all my fault. To my left, Kitty. How do you like them prison haircuts? I think it was the following year that Mom took Kitty and I to Macy's in White Plains (Where Santa Claus lived in the off season!) to a so-called specialist in children's haircuts. I will never forget how he sawed our braids off at the root without even undoing them. Mine, fat and stubby, Kitty's long and thin. My mother cried as she picked them up and wrapped rubber bands around the cut ends. The fiend gave us the popular Pixie haircut. My hair grew straight out from my head. With those giant teeth I looked more like a half-grown lion cub than a Pixie.
These days Kitty is still the dashing professional. How many of you can say you have a following? Next to her is baby sister Patty, a single, two-job working Mom to a teenage daughter, but don't pity her, she's so good at it all. Martha Stewart could eat off her floors.
On my right, baby brother Robbie, my charge, which is why he grew up wild. I have one of those half-baked memories that no one will admit to. We all had harnesses with zippers in the front and leashes hooked to the back and I seem to recall being hitched like a sled dog to Robbie's stroller. Why not? We were a powerful troika. I would have done the same thing with four kids.
Rob became a father for the first time two years ago this April - twin boys! He lives to see Ryder and Reno conquer the world, all the while living with my parents and being their main care-giver - not that they would ever admit to needing one. The babies light up their lives.
Right now my Mom is in the hospital undergoing a battery of tests before surgery. She has been in poor health most of her life and has outlived all of her friends, three of whom passed just last year, and most of her family.
Eight hundred miles away, I am holding my breath too often these days.
Friday, January 27, 2006
the Zombies efforts
"E's not dead, just stunned" -Monty Python
Here's evidence that I have not shuffled off this mortal coil - about one tenth of my stash folded and sorted by color...and then adorned with Cat Ass. Still no shelves to contain them so these stacks will probably go into right back into the plastic boxes.Deep in the night for the past week, I might have wished for that shuffle in my coma-dreams. There was little sleep. I injured my back last week in a very stupid manner.
For those of you who know about Yoga, I actually fell asleep in a fat woman's variation of the Child's Pose. You know, knees a-spraddle, belly dragging on the mattress and head cradled on folded arms as I listened to the music from the "Breathe" yoga show on TV.
The Dr. heckled me for stretching my sciatic nerve (let's hope she's right) and then went on to prescribe some Hillbilly Heroin for me. I took one dose, spent two hours scratching madly, giggled inappropriately at the TV, goaded the sleeping cats into play, and to frost the cake, took out markers and started coloring in the dark. About two in the morning, my GoodMan rolled over and told me he was planning on smothering me with a pillow if I didn't settle down. The pain never left, I just didn't care. No more O. for me.
When not feeling too totally crappy, I have resumed machine quilting this un-named project I started last summer at Elizabeth Barton's studio. And no jokes about a dildo farm. This piece is quite large and I really didn't notice all things being at arm's length and all.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Head cold Redux
Friday, January 13, 2006
When in doubt, go Shopping!
This silly business hangs up for drying one's unmentionables only I visualized pieces of hand dyed fabric flapping in the breeze. For 3.99, I can imagine anything I want.
These are rubbery plastic ice cube trays but I could see them flipped over with paint on their cute little backsides all ready to pounce all over some fabric.
And here's what IKEA is really famous for: stuff that you have to put together yourself. It took me about an hour to "build" this. Like most American households, the proper tools are never where you left them so I made this with the screwdriver on my grandmother's Boy Scout knife (it was in her sewing basket) and the wrong end of a staple hammer. I thought about glue but that would have been too much committment.
Just the thing for all the miscellaneous crapola swarming all over my sewing table. Now to teach that drunken service monkey to put things away once I have finished with them. I'm sad that the second one came without it's bloody damn screws so I will have to visit the hardware store tomorrow to finish it off. I will have to mix up some sort of stain for these. Very theraputic.
Monday, January 09, 2006
contest
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Finished!
I have been memetagged.....
First DyeFest of '06
Well, there's nothing like a tidy crop of hand dyes to get the creative year started. I think there was something seriously wrong with the black though. I used a lot of it - I was in a broody mood- and looks like 99% of it left town in the rinse cycle.
Anna! Do recognize any of these pieces? Can't wait to be hacking them up but that project is in a conga line of other patiently waiting it's turn. My UFOs are giving me nightmares so in self defense I am tending to those first for while.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
unpacking (still)
Did you ever find yourself on the brink of change and the whizzing of it all leaves you just exhausted and empty? Deadlines, decisions and distant dread. There was a time when I had this much time on my hands.
While the cicadas are chewing the air
with their threats
and the sweat rolls
sweet, I think
"All that is not given is lost"
and wished that you could have seen
how the flecks of gold
stuck to my skin
when the sand gave up
and fell away.
Monday, January 02, 2006
Tornado Watch
What an opportunity for further honing my skill! My procrastination skills, that is. Here's all of what Tarot Master, James Rioux has to say about the six of cups and so I am properly chastened about not taking the time yesterday to reflect on the passing of 2005.
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Happy New Year!
I decided to spend the day honoring Procrastination instead of denying her.
My studio looks like Katrina paid a visit so I knew it was going to be a long day. My calls to FEMA have gone unanswered.
The backdrop of my efforts today, A "Law & Order" marathon. Tomorrow, the bar exam.
Before I could even get dressed I was finding ways to delay. I have several identical Wrangler denim workshirts, sized 4X, men's 4X. I wish they looked as huge on me as they should. I use them interchangeably as smocks, bathrobes, and my version of the Dixie Mink but I was getting quite sick of the corporate logo hovering over the breast pocket so I decided a little quick machine applique on one of them could cure my wardrobe blues.
Now I look like a refuge from the Pyromaniacs Union.At least now I can tell which one to wear in the studio.
Next on my to-do list, Breakfast. Two microwaved meatballs (in homemade 'sketi sauce) on a whole wheat roll (health food!), half a glass of OJ and two cups of coffee. Then fully dressed and fueled up, I jump on the bathroom scale - none of these "naked post-evacuation" weigh-ins for me. The awful truth lurked between my toes. At the very least I will break a sweat today.
I filled several coffin-sized plastic tubs with fabric, vacuumed the nap off the carpet rather than pick up bent pins and decided a break was in order. More creativity! I really needed to finish this crocheted hat that I started last night.
Wasn't Dick Clark scary? The Big Peach was out of sync with the big Apple while my neighbors treated me to fireworks and semi-automatic gunfire. Yee-haw Amigos!
It's dark now. The first new day of 2006 is circling the bowl and I am quite satisfied with the proceeds of the day. No resolutions but some truth, farting around, sweat, a glimmer of order and whiffs of the promise of tomorrow.