tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-192412142024-03-15T21:12:20.914-04:00:::More whiffs, glimmers & left oeuvres:::Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.comBlogger3412125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-25554019433091351032024-03-13T12:15:00.003-04:002024-03-13T20:41:05.063-04:00nest material<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The OG cusspot was crafted when I was still working in the whine mine, in person. I remember being so satisfied with the shape and the speed at which it manifested. It's been hard at work in the traveling stitch bag for all these years catching the stuff I stopped throwing on the floor when I found bits of string in some cat hurk. I still don't know which hairy fool was dumb enough to swallow thread. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This morning, it was so full I had to decant it. Amazing how much was crammed in there. Later I'll take it up to the grove and hang chunks in the crape myrtles for the birds to take as nesting material. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Before I hear from any ornithological experts, there is no piece of thread longer than two inches, so no bluebirds will be garroting one another. I am that cheap. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDXwNJaYcbspfDzXDsChP2G-RhRwfcg2ln9fSLSt_WYGVKTm8ICUwy-VL1xp3caHDcnGriecEv8O1x3iAeWiowoNiNy7XKJGPdcqr2zZWARKmH3waElm-wCziES_N8lhur_X5yKUC8Ac85efWmJ7OU5xs1z7Xvn1GKFlwRwrBohLO2yQELqTOh/s2737/20240313_102651_HDR_1710340126346.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2737" data-original-width="2288" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDXwNJaYcbspfDzXDsChP2G-RhRwfcg2ln9fSLSt_WYGVKTm8ICUwy-VL1xp3caHDcnGriecEv8O1x3iAeWiowoNiNy7XKJGPdcqr2zZWARKmH3waElm-wCziES_N8lhur_X5yKUC8Ac85efWmJ7OU5xs1z7Xvn1GKFlwRwrBohLO2yQELqTOh/w536-h640/20240313_102651_HDR_1710340126346.png" width="536" /></a></div><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigUgqAN0W0XvyRlzcLStTv1HDOGs0jMu4Yewbnnp_velRleeH6xyg_jsKXKqiGRelxABSTM3z1vfAVSP2MAHksVJsvpbOLP7UjTwaE_961we8inXLZZD7uvYT9BjfxOCdNduARafyvSsVNnPqFPSLGv6vjJwXGqtM-4IKnJ3HaTCN7QPJQJ00n/s4160/20240313_170133_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigUgqAN0W0XvyRlzcLStTv1HDOGs0jMu4Yewbnnp_velRleeH6xyg_jsKXKqiGRelxABSTM3z1vfAVSP2MAHksVJsvpbOLP7UjTwaE_961we8inXLZZD7uvYT9BjfxOCdNduARafyvSsVNnPqFPSLGv6vjJwXGqtM-4IKnJ3HaTCN7QPJQJ00n/s320/20240313_170133_HDR.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>The deck is a mess, but the thyme, lavender and the dumpster rose bush made it through the winter.<p></p>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-43733223436274060452024-03-07T13:13:00.002-05:002024-03-07T13:13:31.682-05:00Inventory <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp6rI53or1asWXHYX2YezZXY1I5Q5z8QdMNpbmXkQDKV1turdJbFqwab6ynSOzP49ngvzF7J74qN_v18wOeWArV-yA2fgwjkvXxnvxz_tgP5rtXBKMROzGLfkU80VVkKiIh4MH26EZ_HpviEaLK5rFP_qpKe1d5mMeLrA7m1o9OEICo8ZO3c8n/s3041/20240307_123815_HDR_1709833803468.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3041" data-original-width="2253" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp6rI53or1asWXHYX2YezZXY1I5Q5z8QdMNpbmXkQDKV1turdJbFqwab6ynSOzP49ngvzF7J74qN_v18wOeWArV-yA2fgwjkvXxnvxz_tgP5rtXBKMROzGLfkU80VVkKiIh4MH26EZ_HpviEaLK5rFP_qpKe1d5mMeLrA7m1o9OEICo8ZO3c8n/w474-h640/20240307_123815_HDR_1709833803468.png" width="474" /></a></div>Some keep calendars. Some journal. This is the place&time marker that I look forward to each year. <div>Instead of keeping this somewhere I can refer to it (as if) I'm going to cut out the samples and tape them to the outside of the jars. The names don't do a good job of conveying what's in those little pots of dust~</div><div> </div><div>~ speaking of dust, I just made the mistake of sneezing in the vicinity of the open container of Raven. I'm only grateful I had my glasses on. I had to start this over as the whole sheet was contaminated with particles of dye. Cleaned my face, blew my nose, and brushed my teeth again. I'm afraid to look in the mirror~</div><div><br /></div><div>I rarely use colors straight from the can, but I need to keep in mind:</div><div> </div><div>BRONZE, BUTTERSCOTCH, AVOCADO and ROBINs EGG. How their voices are clear and strong. </div><div><br /></div><div>And that RAVEN can whisper. </div><div><br /></div><div>And Tangerine, Marigold, Golden & Bright Yellow can easily stand alone. </div><div><br /></div><div>There was also a pillowcase half full of undyed cloth and three yards of garment-weight linen landed on the doorstep. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://youtu.be/UToUzWgHGyQ?si=ctvYUORjzVWg1XVd" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="186" data-original-width="271" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgPqM4t2CLxyaWtH_5tnuDXERJWT01pdnxykLrJkpX2tOcS0JtrBoTu1x2yIP5y8CQ2Hyeo9R8p_iGktfMC6Nux4lzsUOC5NBtUd1ff0ZTnTEhrbOgzKAvLMiV0FpmbzjtiCRbiuNyhVi0KEUCFjRu2mfTTmBN-yd7WL-LpOEDG3coS64nOjaZ/s1600/eatapeach.jpg" width="271" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /> <p></p></div>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-52651272372824926112024-03-05T12:18:00.007-05:002024-03-05T15:30:49.928-05:00Signs (updated)<p> <span style="font-size: medium;">🐲 Yes, the Dirty Threads & Hot Scraps Page is missing~</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> ~Will be until Summer checks in. 🐲</span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> Crazy, but true. I'm putting this and all stitching projects on hold until I can make more threads. I realized this morning that a big part of the slowdown is me staring at what's left of the stash and not finding what the piece needs at any given moment. I don't want to settle, so, a pause. </p><p>Something I've noticed. I need a wider range of VALUES no matter what the hue. </p><p>Does anybody have any strange questions regarding my process? I'm starting to put together a tutorial. </p><p>Do I really have to do a history? (Why not, lazy bitch. Maybe you won't forget something important.)</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB3NSMpd0t_h2ZKxofZftqcC-YAthKyurFUV3dNkQhaLmqM9fLxIGSsDC4JTKgzSmIle0D4I10G38pEfKVqDP-0HAA0BbY67Xfc5rYFVYessgdpb2lAVAvw1ZMdEft9zo0GIlDTXN2cJGBEHlJ-noUh-xmdEJZvYukbmIsGZGIopvF5bmdhxiF/s4160/20240305_120830_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB3NSMpd0t_h2ZKxofZftqcC-YAthKyurFUV3dNkQhaLmqM9fLxIGSsDC4JTKgzSmIle0D4I10G38pEfKVqDP-0HAA0BbY67Xfc5rYFVYessgdpb2lAVAvw1ZMdEft9zo0GIlDTXN2cJGBEHlJ-noUh-xmdEJZvYukbmIsGZGIopvF5bmdhxiF/w480-h640/20240305_120830_HDR.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Right here I have to remember that Less is Often More.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>According to the editing team, I have a lot of other things to do.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVYYNQdwdEHWjXzeRorPvrF5SJS8tSXfxI4C4zOO2RLnrjfxOrxfo3Tca7N9HOqmnlr8v8UvhngO3tMQwnEdbx2oCdcvNk-goFh5_9kKI9BHTiRBalOobnAusceNCgZPk9wmsqnNQVkm3wgM1YFLSiMltvv8JhxDvD7KwUL4HHBbYiudmTASVa/s4160/20240304_211307_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVYYNQdwdEHWjXzeRorPvrF5SJS8tSXfxI4C4zOO2RLnrjfxOrxfo3Tca7N9HOqmnlr8v8UvhngO3tMQwnEdbx2oCdcvNk-goFh5_9kKI9BHTiRBalOobnAusceNCgZPk9wmsqnNQVkm3wgM1YFLSiMltvv8JhxDvD7KwUL4HHBbYiudmTASVa/w400-h300/20240304_211307_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://youtu.be/xqe6TF2y8i4" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP3e156ty4ha7OuZSeKEMSsjRKZ36KHj8DS5e8k_ShwGxIsQRclOfb1WwQEXKPo5s8YSvkI6GHATeKRdFOAshn8gwZy0lA5WPgJCP8dkrV1fLn6nIGbrsUyungiotuCYdx0Ngn44tS-xZdjd0S4HLVr1Bk1b2v0FOhwAw8NLtF88bXSUB_fweE/s320/strawberry-supermoon-vancouver-april-2021.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-87811370462475500862024-03-04T20:27:00.005-05:002024-03-04T23:22:21.056-05:00Organically slow<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxFVHKx-iXDZoDvFrYBshgrECJV_GkdMxBbP9afLjnockMC5h1mF_lECDpMoz5BqtZ-Rw90DOFgL84' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /> Why is it that the smallest hurts take longer to heal as we age? <p></p><p>I did some lefting for a few hours here and there. My thumb <i>is </i>better. But placing and drawing needle and thread with your non-dominant hand does things to the brain. Found myself on some unexpected and revelatory thought trains. A mini acid trip. Spring (mental) cleaning. </p><p>I remain a NYer at heart not trusting March for much. Here, I may still have a jump on some gardening. I have weeds and seeds and hope. </p><p><i>(I forgot about the music. That's some sexy shit, eh? "Night Lights" by Gerry Mulligan, 1961)</i></p>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-78504137299898545352024-03-01T23:45:00.001-05:002024-03-01T23:45:12.642-05:00~caesura~<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAC-SdDYrj4mvtXGjkJRbWE-yMvuAGpgGP3NmL34bdVb_uXItoFh-ptJGtxxbGKyMfcXBsZ9TVpLipKZnMZ9gUFtn-RtfvwsF2TaSJcynJ2Q0TFJdGumdQkmlQGGLT65z8qIIvcvlNP6bk9jDMfQe9wAj9wyXxp9ZEyPDWgTmOVGB_Gsu9ELGB/s4160/20240301_094822_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAC-SdDYrj4mvtXGjkJRbWE-yMvuAGpgGP3NmL34bdVb_uXItoFh-ptJGtxxbGKyMfcXBsZ9TVpLipKZnMZ9gUFtn-RtfvwsF2TaSJcynJ2Q0TFJdGumdQkmlQGGLT65z8qIIvcvlNP6bk9jDMfQe9wAj9wyXxp9ZEyPDWgTmOVGB_Gsu9ELGB/w480-h640/20240301_094822_HDR.jpg" width="480" /></a></div> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEU8pNaYdEZmGENgDpg9ZY4ytDydPc66iKCTdprL6lW8H4ZzBDm7l5v6oomos5IzPjjd-G1l1QLCmOsxTMNuOTZzIOfJFsNPkB3MBBimM1YqAU9zAt772DUAmxxN64UKkmj3fesH6xKON8fw0tngBZSCLW_Ec9BtXC1T3xmtlfHIQiQCzgjVAt/s4160/20240301_094733_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEU8pNaYdEZmGENgDpg9ZY4ytDydPc66iKCTdprL6lW8H4ZzBDm7l5v6oomos5IzPjjd-G1l1QLCmOsxTMNuOTZzIOfJFsNPkB3MBBimM1YqAU9zAt772DUAmxxN64UKkmj3fesH6xKON8fw0tngBZSCLW_Ec9BtXC1T3xmtlfHIQiQCzgjVAt/w640-h480/20240301_094733_HDR.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp4wkSVlBR-4Nek3q9PBR8esQdObUUdK4v-dxC0i384XoI9z00INJvYpaj4FlsYMqzg_zYWYmGKTJiQRxg2PQfTM35nGlc8T8T4v425xV58nT67_f9PxKMr3jZBPF84zI7VpCOmjsZWOM9TdDmjFcIbgPbkYB9-zjyTWBx4JeuRa2cXN54Q9Zy/s2154/20240215_210916_HDR_1708049674554.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1341" data-original-width="2154" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp4wkSVlBR-4Nek3q9PBR8esQdObUUdK4v-dxC0i384XoI9z00INJvYpaj4FlsYMqzg_zYWYmGKTJiQRxg2PQfTM35nGlc8T8T4v425xV58nT67_f9PxKMr3jZBPF84zI7VpCOmjsZWOM9TdDmjFcIbgPbkYB9-zjyTWBx4JeuRa2cXN54Q9Zy/s320/20240215_210916_HDR_1708049674554.png" width="320" /></a></div>Just when I'm finding a rhythm outside the heaat space/shape, I tore my right thumbnail to the quick and cannot hold a needle. Typing reverts to hunt and peck.<p></p><div><br /></div><div>So, a few days away. There are many other things. </div><div><br /></div><div>I found the perfect ampersand and the title of my next book. </div><div>Maybe it will be stitched.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Note the changes in the pages bar. Scraps and threads are sold out for now. </div>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-13815164828280856172024-02-28T22:49:00.000-05:002024-02-28T22:49:27.521-05:00Bridge<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKXmrt-ZUxtZx0kQ8l-13lTo7Q_TDMupGVuo-RtIIDhohIKLEgg5-X9XFO0QsqxDLjkl9QJUBWRp2Swm6VudGr_DwyNO5r9p7tPPezvvk95R4HobSZW7e1v2-qsfKeRqdjztTasoFrG-_voiQh1O0AiQwntQWosLh7OXlv75ZEBtH1TKSDyL96/s4160/20240228_203301_HDR.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKXmrt-ZUxtZx0kQ8l-13lTo7Q_TDMupGVuo-RtIIDhohIKLEgg5-X9XFO0QsqxDLjkl9QJUBWRp2Swm6VudGr_DwyNO5r9p7tPPezvvk95R4HobSZW7e1v2-qsfKeRqdjztTasoFrG-_voiQh1O0AiQwntQWosLh7OXlv75ZEBtH1TKSDyL96/w300-h400/20240228_203301_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Apologies up front to songwriter Amanda Mcbroom and Warner-Tamerlane Publishing Corp.<div><br /></div><div>I don't know if stitching words on a pillow that will never leave your home means you owe someone something. </div><div><br /></div><div>How close is it to singing in the shower?</div><div><br /></div><div>So here, as visual, only fractions of the whole. It's my font and stitch that I'm keeping my fingers on. Remembering to loosen up a bit. </div><div>On cloth and on paper.<br /><div><div class="uVMCKf" data-hveid="CDkQAA" jsaction="rcuQ6b:npT2md;i5ybAd:wJlvye" jscontroller="UzbKLd" style="border: none; box-shadow: none; margin-bottom: 46px; margin-top: 11px; overflow: visible;"><div class="ClpmGe gOhqyd" style="height: 26px; padding-bottom: 8px; top: -2px;"><div class="PJI6ge adDDi" style="display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;"></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj0MAhfeWF65FEvV4ypG-Ca4IpWf10H76QE7v8extvBd6aHw1hyphenhyphen-S8uxYwMnYZofbG7NfBit4Q-7KYCKrD3kguPKwD3If8A2qr-PACYxpRdB_MFYayqs3Yt72upTllzgPyp5KE-ncn1WIQSmgTkssZqEOtRS25aKl6bKInt4-VhDNonLHMjPf3/s4160/20240228_203244_HDR.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj0MAhfeWF65FEvV4ypG-Ca4IpWf10H76QE7v8extvBd6aHw1hyphenhyphen-S8uxYwMnYZofbG7NfBit4Q-7KYCKrD3kguPKwD3If8A2qr-PACYxpRdB_MFYayqs3Yt72upTllzgPyp5KE-ncn1WIQSmgTkssZqEOtRS25aKl6bKInt4-VhDNonLHMjPf3/w480-h640/20240228_203244_HDR.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8W4fYVycqFM-2EOq16CddBW2KuN-YgpdJ3rPtCnOS7n_1C6lbzLfVz4wyMWlBQ90iNr6aiCp1L6cfU8Zd-oEAUbsUK_zBK2ggCd38NzKgPkpen0DieC4KGD53zJ1kqcCQHB6CbNw7QdEq7MeqZucO1xw3DximcpcLRHFpgCdWW9xG4p3kl0mC/s4160/20240227_112752_HDR.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8W4fYVycqFM-2EOq16CddBW2KuN-YgpdJ3rPtCnOS7n_1C6lbzLfVz4wyMWlBQ90iNr6aiCp1L6cfU8Zd-oEAUbsUK_zBK2ggCd38NzKgPkpen0DieC4KGD53zJ1kqcCQHB6CbNw7QdEq7MeqZucO1xw3DximcpcLRHFpgCdWW9xG4p3kl0mC/w400-h300/20240227_112752_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>This project is taking on a life of its own. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcFv3y7rV15QpMjIGSFhnQVjbb65MQawAHks8MU0roIwSEJquLhbwexS4F_oZrZ1toAK3-X3YckQd14TkDu__9lHC0uk1Jkrt-yQgusbnMyOI6iVJGY5PgMky_Lj-G3-MdXlqau1YrA21GfMlngoaX5ec_HnW_MLoNq5NWdTHMoKtaUXdbmwyf/s4160/20240227_112651_HDR.jpg" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcFv3y7rV15QpMjIGSFhnQVjbb65MQawAHks8MU0roIwSEJquLhbwexS4F_oZrZ1toAK3-X3YckQd14TkDu__9lHC0uk1Jkrt-yQgusbnMyOI6iVJGY5PgMky_Lj-G3-MdXlqau1YrA21GfMlngoaX5ec_HnW_MLoNq5NWdTHMoKtaUXdbmwyf/w480-h640/20240227_112651_HDR.jpg" width="480" /></a><br /><br /><p></p></div></div>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-18092310228359376472024-02-26T13:49:00.000-05:002024-02-26T13:49:01.130-05:00New and Old<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqVXToKpk8e9_gNkuo_2EeapgmjI5TethtKfQP10IvedAA9BdzzyNh94neQOlVcUF7ddVfio4Mwb866yYIlh6p2aVnamZEq2-KYuV_-WQod5W9AOb03E0CbNmcAtqsLb7thrFvFspvUiZuhyphenhyphenmA5KcbvJCLEEY4Ax1mJ8jEsesMwb5EMiojQ0zU/s2560/20240223_170331_HDR.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqVXToKpk8e9_gNkuo_2EeapgmjI5TethtKfQP10IvedAA9BdzzyNh94neQOlVcUF7ddVfio4Mwb866yYIlh6p2aVnamZEq2-KYuV_-WQod5W9AOb03E0CbNmcAtqsLb7thrFvFspvUiZuhyphenhyphenmA5KcbvJCLEEY4Ax1mJ8jEsesMwb5EMiojQ0zU/w225-h400/20240223_170331_HDR.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><div><br /></div>We scoured the yard for windfall sticks until I ran out of gas (pretty quickly). The wind was kicking up and I mentioned that it was good kite-flying weather. Charlie quickly produced a kite that had to be hatched out of its packaging and assembled. It flew! We got about fifteen minutes of launching and flying before the wind decided enough was enough. <div><br /></div><div>I wanted to stay outside and absorb a little more vitamin D so Charlie went inside for tools and quickly taught me how to lose at tic tac toe. Who knew the Corner Strategy?</div><div><br /></div><div>I responded with my favorite, trapped at a desk time waster, the Knight's Move number maze. I drew him a ten by ten grid, explained the rules, and he was off to the races with a vengeance! I can't remember seeing him so focused. </div><div><br /></div><div>Later the same day, he broke out his tablet and headphones and dove into his first audiobook. He was trying to work the puzzle at the same time as he was listening to Diary of a Wimpy Kid. It was a toss up, but you could have set his hair on fire and he might not have noticed. It was wonderful to behold so much focus on something that was not hand-held and full of batteries.</div><div><br /></div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3qB0-iJ72CHiGoxXS_kb0oD9Zm05LrCVh1zvTalKOlcO2pguhcuMzYxbWjl6VZHzoDhze80IcIenyCxrtAhW5NeQdLrD6PmOzyP2oc5H6a2F0JsSgcEN-kkpDgPry6a6prMnTUAqXZCUoAk32dGX_TNBPpu4xEV4Y8YGzo7_oXhoQu9zkt9wE/s4160/20240226_115655_HDR.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4160" data-original-width="3120" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3qB0-iJ72CHiGoxXS_kb0oD9Zm05LrCVh1zvTalKOlcO2pguhcuMzYxbWjl6VZHzoDhze80IcIenyCxrtAhW5NeQdLrD6PmOzyP2oc5H6a2F0JsSgcEN-kkpDgPry6a6prMnTUAqXZCUoAk32dGX_TNBPpu4xEV4Y8YGzo7_oXhoQu9zkt9wE/w300-h400/20240226_115655_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /> An old friend reached out and we spent our quarterly hour and change on the phone catching up. She reminded me about a piece that she once admired. I knew exactly where to put my hands on it for a change. Dug it out of a pile of mostly finished what-nots and made sure it was worthy and ready. It is.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>Also yesterday, the family in NY gathered to celebrate our Dad's birthday. Pop worked and drank at the Blazer Pub where he is still fondly remembered. I wish I could have been there. </div><div><br /></div><div>Again yesterday, an old friend let it be known that her husband had passed away. We had lost touch over the years. Just a click away, yet....</div><div><br /></div><div>Connections. I think the ease of digital communication is overated. Too tenuous. </div><div><br /></div>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-46600202885871592342024-02-22T21:07:00.000-05:002024-02-22T21:07:22.760-05:00fine focus<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzUw-DRygMupO44hegTmX79sqgjr_Wqyd2PqbGPrHpe-llPzXji1SuyIqKWcbb7gNmUA6xCK_Q-fuO0_w9pFP1dQmXwr3fjqhci9EBNmal9Nez2_CrgfPqFSNb1JzdWrghMFAeafdSX8h3q9lquI7Ygj1YUHIJjNk1-edIGFiUigS2O26H2mbq/s1298/20240222_135304_HDR_1708628106139.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1298" data-original-width="1298" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzUw-DRygMupO44hegTmX79sqgjr_Wqyd2PqbGPrHpe-llPzXji1SuyIqKWcbb7gNmUA6xCK_Q-fuO0_w9pFP1dQmXwr3fjqhci9EBNmal9Nez2_CrgfPqFSNb1JzdWrghMFAeafdSX8h3q9lquI7Ygj1YUHIJjNk1-edIGFiUigS2O26H2mbq/w400-h400/20240222_135304_HDR_1708628106139.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIArHqn2qFoGxXkrq73hUGXPuiqqt9yg7CRy2RGPW0A_RQXboCxf_mXrRSSbCwFCAMGtOkgN4DVkVKGRTJF-YnnuVMLQc4pzQAqwasPfGLe5LpxGze4r0u_Vgyz_gpMGyQyYBoEOKyQSNp51lLjuvBQEo6jY_a76czN5yrKAPgPpXWVOqCLIUZ/s2224/20240220_122113_HDR_1708563738142_1708652085427.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2224" data-original-width="1127" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIArHqn2qFoGxXkrq73hUGXPuiqqt9yg7CRy2RGPW0A_RQXboCxf_mXrRSSbCwFCAMGtOkgN4DVkVKGRTJF-YnnuVMLQc4pzQAqwasPfGLe5LpxGze4r0u_Vgyz_gpMGyQyYBoEOKyQSNp51lLjuvBQEo6jY_a76czN5yrKAPgPpXWVOqCLIUZ/w203-h400/20240220_122113_HDR_1708563738142_1708652085427.png" width="203" /></a></div>Carving out the internal shapes with color is intoxicating. The base is 40's era service weight linen. My name for it. Loomed at 27 inches wide. The thread count is tight. Mistakes will slap the eye so best to slow down and place the needle rather than stab with it. It's hard to resist the "punk, punk, punk". <p></p><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>A drawing from my ancient history. In the inside cover of one of those little pink and black test prep books. Copied to tracing and graph paper and enlarged many times. Kept all these years and many iterations. </div><div>It had to be my third year taking the course. The was something on the board, a bunch of lines and arrows. I was listening intently. My flare pen was on autopilot. </div><div><br /></div><div> I believe the 66 I got on the final was a mercy grade. </div><div><br /></div><div>How have I not watched Vanilla Sky before now?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-10505443539110428482024-02-21T20:56:00.000-05:002024-02-21T20:56:01.106-05:00Practice <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Hoxjq2zQ7DuoR7LhXPopjA6ra_w-yOirbc3iDqWSK9BcXQygqcAWV4eZc56ze1D8RnLGaOJP-Xzt-treDdHr8ZxGRF9uzwtd0Tiqdd2mYleh7Ctb3zpBLl7EGdl0qXPpKqk_fBp5Tb14v9CSZPba0DQK-OSx-QQYeEEc8LNBczLOifZ0J5qh/s2224/20240220_122113_HDR_1708563742360.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2224" data-original-width="1127" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Hoxjq2zQ7DuoR7LhXPopjA6ra_w-yOirbc3iDqWSK9BcXQygqcAWV4eZc56ze1D8RnLGaOJP-Xzt-treDdHr8ZxGRF9uzwtd0Tiqdd2mYleh7Ctb3zpBLl7EGdl0qXPpKqk_fBp5Tb14v9CSZPba0DQK-OSx-QQYeEEc8LNBczLOifZ0J5qh/w325-h640/20240220_122113_HDR_1708563742360.png" width="325" /></a></div><div><br /></div>I finished this today. All the lines anyway. Still thinking about what could or should be happening in the interior spaces. <div><br /></div><div>Or not. To keep up the point of the line, there may be some text. </div><div><br /></div><div>There is a disturbance in my force. Yesterday, three different shows or movies featured people in extremely tight spaces. Each time I had to look away within seconds and change the channel. Somehow I bit my tongue. </div><div><br /></div><div>Probably spared myself a lot of nonsense. Instead, I rewatched the Deadwood movie and got a masterclass in applying flashbacks. The Usual Suspects instructed pacing and dialogue. </div><div><br /></div><div>And rereading one of my own early chapters reminded me to Let It Fly. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I'm really disappointed with True North. </div><div>Discussion?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>There is springtime cattitude around here.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCMafSsVG3PAIc3qo7Xm-PH3n3JugmZlXE05YQYwMOXt8MA68IGKLDIe1KEt2cGi5lJiuTKnW-P1Wf7kBQCShXVUai82pGMlJheafkPQsR5JYgmejp6_-x5r_RPMV6WuRHJ69SK8NENuzvUfcpJem0SOtac5LMGK7D_cufEuoFAZ6wzsS2Rz4y/s1491/received_7559168570784346_1708564477888.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1491" data-original-width="1005" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCMafSsVG3PAIc3qo7Xm-PH3n3JugmZlXE05YQYwMOXt8MA68IGKLDIe1KEt2cGi5lJiuTKnW-P1Wf7kBQCShXVUai82pGMlJheafkPQsR5JYgmejp6_-x5r_RPMV6WuRHJ69SK8NENuzvUfcpJem0SOtac5LMGK7D_cufEuoFAZ6wzsS2Rz4y/w432-h640/received_7559168570784346_1708564477888.png" width="432" /></a></div><br /> <p></p></div>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-841410150057017692024-02-19T13:27:00.000-05:002024-02-19T13:27:55.940-05:00Tides turn<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzuKwkY0QIPRtG1aBqiVibpWr6W0eKE3rxEstUH2lC5C3ubJLMKgzD3DfaCVVJ3Vrbz7Q1St7KX0Fha9lxYAPUOMMAAyJpmQOxnJlRHhchYlluIhYSAei04lIYqRw-FnUYHaxlP37m-bhpGorMRXaweTxO2kJfx0KV_oQwc4JyTdih-VphQFr-/s1440/20240219_095107_HDR_1708361308766.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzuKwkY0QIPRtG1aBqiVibpWr6W0eKE3rxEstUH2lC5C3ubJLMKgzD3DfaCVVJ3Vrbz7Q1St7KX0Fha9lxYAPUOMMAAyJpmQOxnJlRHhchYlluIhYSAei04lIYqRw-FnUYHaxlP37m-bhpGorMRXaweTxO2kJfx0KV_oQwc4JyTdih-VphQFr-/s320/20240219_095107_HDR_1708361308766.png" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>It had to happen because I do it every year. When the thread inventory goes dormant, I have a little ritual called Rescuing the Mutts. <div><br /></div><div>I've come to realize that the images of the hanks of thread are not as visually appealing as those hanks wound onto the cardboard bobbins. Even I prefer looking at those little squared-off bobbins, but the final wind-off was time-consuming, physically detrimental, and very expensive. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, to everyone who didn't take an immediate shine to these Leftover Souls, these Mutts...my stash thanks you!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe1UstbRgXoAXi_8RVqnzCe8Uzefd8eTugA80HbPE7z_NI6AYZZTdGGG7PE_0Ml60gBJ0ArAEmlQUZ8R_ZfYyTxuihf_2B49IPpVa5zu_Yaq8Ad1px4Ayc6bue98YYTO4g7B8JOOc-Z_Vp7haxnIuDougAYc0KPtqFzkf40pbMg8R1MpuzNlnU/s1377/20240219_100248_HDR_1708361413453.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1377" data-original-width="1377" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe1UstbRgXoAXi_8RVqnzCe8Uzefd8eTugA80HbPE7z_NI6AYZZTdGGG7PE_0Ml60gBJ0ArAEmlQUZ8R_ZfYyTxuihf_2B49IPpVa5zu_Yaq8Ad1px4Ayc6bue98YYTO4g7B8JOOc-Z_Vp7haxnIuDougAYc0KPtqFzkf40pbMg8R1MpuzNlnU/s320/20240219_100248_HDR_1708361413453.png" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>And THIS COLOR is haunting me. </div><div><br /></div><div>A deep teal blue trying to sneak up on navy when no one is looking. Even this one is a shade too cool. But I have been seeing a version of it popping off the screen for a while now. Maybe it's my eyes?</div><div><br /></div><div>In the recent remake of Perry Mason, set in LA during the Depression, it's in almost every frame. The vestments of a quack faith healer, hats, earrings, tiny little details everywhere. In The Kings Garden (Alan Rickman's last film) it was the Royal color, never mentioned always visible. </div><div><br /></div><div>Look for it. You'll see what I'm talking about. There is some kind of psychological hook in play here. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglwpoCVOzW4Nq3X21y-riabwTUt0rIsCXgXXDyWdOp0ufcMl-lk1zimgOQk6Os1pYujS68E6mAdR9c_8iiBzCccpnDQbZV5ENHerIQTmHr7pOLuJF5yzwUuN7uE9doMfVEaOPuBIrZrpJqhsLw8abak5GPtIGJS_eaWizpoKckqrWzwyLnzAhW/s1203/20240219_100729_HDR_1708361156886.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="1203" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglwpoCVOzW4Nq3X21y-riabwTUt0rIsCXgXXDyWdOp0ufcMl-lk1zimgOQk6Os1pYujS68E6mAdR9c_8iiBzCccpnDQbZV5ENHerIQTmHr7pOLuJF5yzwUuN7uE9doMfVEaOPuBIrZrpJqhsLw8abak5GPtIGJS_eaWizpoKckqrWzwyLnzAhW/s320/20240219_100729_HDR_1708361156886.png" width="320" /></a> </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-1DCEqn7kMFR5JCsd5p49gTSXQdxMUS2ANkkAQHjLZhVTI_vt8UAKI8dTC4BGyVrnpxEqUQZawI_95rOK9hPgLP5AoQiMslhEnjaqiOsBRlHtcbJZbik3LyLy2wsRuPhcrU-zKgJUMGRzIutzPAZ5WL8q5pmfjwj90G4Bw6KXZ6VCddRxLTNa/s1440/20240219_100740_HDR_1708361101752.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-1DCEqn7kMFR5JCsd5p49gTSXQdxMUS2ANkkAQHjLZhVTI_vt8UAKI8dTC4BGyVrnpxEqUQZawI_95rOK9hPgLP5AoQiMslhEnjaqiOsBRlHtcbJZbik3LyLy2wsRuPhcrU-zKgJUMGRzIutzPAZ5WL8q5pmfjwj90G4Bw6KXZ6VCddRxLTNa/s320/20240219_100740_HDR_1708361101752.png" width="320" /></a></div>As I wound these I was thinking about the course I'm planning. Teaching the Dirty Thread Boogie. </div><div><br /></div><div>Why did I call them "dirty" in the first place? Mostly because I work outside on the same wooden table where I do my houseplant cleanup and repotting, with very little of the cleanup factor. </div><div><br /></div><div>The deck is uncovered, opened to the sky, the woods, and runoff from the roof. Tree trash is delivered daily, free of charge. All my tools are out there as well. Moldy and mossy. And when I'm slinging dyes things get dirty. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMclZQx8kMCXV8vuRbpyRVdhjRtPg2GEE0aAomcDzaoUnq9-0owJEaQ_swfwZj5-Ani_q9dmSdqR6iIJKPeQ9i80fvd-_PP1tnqFielTBoYjmN2e62_g0paQc_nIe8atEgj2hDGibuVsBrT7nlEswwZvmLghI17ODGzgX0STJdZVt90jkMzk6l/s1440/20240219_100917_HDR_1708361016069.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMclZQx8kMCXV8vuRbpyRVdhjRtPg2GEE0aAomcDzaoUnq9-0owJEaQ_swfwZj5-Ani_q9dmSdqR6iIJKPeQ9i80fvd-_PP1tnqFielTBoYjmN2e62_g0paQc_nIe8atEgj2hDGibuVsBrT7nlEswwZvmLghI17ODGzgX0STJdZVt90jkMzk6l/s320/20240219_100917_HDR_1708361016069.png" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>In the first picture up top, that flash of green in the red and gold? Dirty gloves.</div>This pinch of brown and lavender? I don't change gloves when I'm flipping the skeins over. Color transfer is inevitable. Desirable even.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The Circle Casting project is on a brief hold while I wait for transfer paper to be delivered. </div><div><br /></div><div>In the meantime, another piece of ancient art history was unearthed and slated to be stitched in full color. The original was done inside the back cover of Introduction to Geometry which I failed three times. Small wonder. This version is 8x24 inches.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixGnCAY9DuwWuEX1b_k1Mz3R5489txQszB04Q7cX3xiuYkvJ0iElIh17YyRITRk8-lnTRv7W23E5sjHZo4rNp_z_jEKgkgfgFcK5_9_ShZ3hlf-qJV-Ie9vucVWqjBjnMO-rMTC5jW6IaiDKfG43rmlmyhwu8JCoxXL-I2B2IxxnqLvDDFWTK_/s2222/20240219_112237_HDR_1708360804542_1708360907645.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="733" data-original-width="2222" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixGnCAY9DuwWuEX1b_k1Mz3R5489txQszB04Q7cX3xiuYkvJ0iElIh17YyRITRk8-lnTRv7W23E5sjHZo4rNp_z_jEKgkgfgFcK5_9_ShZ3hlf-qJV-Ie9vucVWqjBjnMO-rMTC5jW6IaiDKfG43rmlmyhwu8JCoxXL-I2B2IxxnqLvDDFWTK_/w640-h212/20240219_112237_HDR_1708360804542_1708360907645.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p></div>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-79668043037138818642024-02-15T20:04:00.000-05:002024-02-15T20:03:59.986-05:00memories wash up daily<p>2.15.21 </p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">No writing, no stitching, but I was creeped by a handsome Creeper. We ate <i>dreck </i>(thanks, Uncle Josh), watched Pinky Malinky, and renamed the funny bone "The Brutal Bone".</span></p><p><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">I love how this Hail Mary selfie captured Charlie's attempt to appear menacing despite the giggling. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtI-VU1VXH0GpekdqHXMaW0dzKsNo6V6SNk7uGrTlljvoiSxdhq4phtG5Xib1NgO2VSmcMjTL09OiLp0-u6KRkji5BV5lG0WhOcj-1ndbL2UHox1zCE-fgm37AXunQe09ekzaz-yNV-E1y8FwKY68_Sl7yYsMd50tomT3ziYe5Adx2Wr7ydIU0/s1350/meandcreeper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtI-VU1VXH0GpekdqHXMaW0dzKsNo6V6SNk7uGrTlljvoiSxdhq4phtG5Xib1NgO2VSmcMjTL09OiLp0-u6KRkji5BV5lG0WhOcj-1ndbL2UHox1zCE-fgm37AXunQe09ekzaz-yNV-E1y8FwKY68_Sl7yYsMd50tomT3ziYe5Adx2Wr7ydIU0/w512-h640/meandcreeper.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-9587585512505338702024-02-15T10:03:00.000-05:002024-02-15T10:03:12.339-05:00 Low rails of process<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIiUWd5M_Vj-6VAN1WofqCmM2p4TCJg1oWPOHq-kI4IzdKzUevFQE3GLbk1l0ToFC4jwPbDYnCJigZnPmhESj0ER6-5_egczP0i7fRRyakxpO2eLSGxustQJQEVIJJODgt16pw3kQt_ysjIV7XANdNqgsCLrUnBcw1AebMBy10Li18q39K_hvn/s1993/20240214_124324_HDR_1707942726857.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1423" data-original-width="1993" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIiUWd5M_Vj-6VAN1WofqCmM2p4TCJg1oWPOHq-kI4IzdKzUevFQE3GLbk1l0ToFC4jwPbDYnCJigZnPmhESj0ER6-5_egczP0i7fRRyakxpO2eLSGxustQJQEVIJJODgt16pw3kQt_ysjIV7XANdNqgsCLrUnBcw1AebMBy10Li18q39K_hvn/s320/20240214_124324_HDR_1707942726857.png" width="320" /></a></div>Of course, I had a list- never numbered.<div>First I had to improvise an ironing board. I can't remember ever owning one. Long ago I bought two yards of padded heat-resistant stuff and stapled it to the top of an old dresser. Long gone now. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then to select a supporting cloth for the dyed contemporary linen which is lightweight. I still have yards of that 1940's vintage mid-weight linen my brother rescued from a real estate clean out. Perfect support. Weighty, stable yet easy to needle through both. The last image is some test stitching I did right after typing that wishful thinking. Wishes came true. It's a pleasure to stitch.</div><div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0G9vwdlHV4SReSvJWZc8cteGaNKPPt1U6Hbz0Y0R10QdHFVcwuuxT7tZCQTcODnFh7eC647njaBlgP1sd14C-tIsBMUJ4bJZHWnPR7dHvuT91MHZKzk0n7HqdNgbgWXebgIhvvtPFs_FsSLyI-7ANLDgk2Bi57qfqQ9c-G70C_97OkmegO7E/s1453/20240214_113347_HDR_1707942672508.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1453" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0G9vwdlHV4SReSvJWZc8cteGaNKPPt1U6Hbz0Y0R10QdHFVcwuuxT7tZCQTcODnFh7eC647njaBlgP1sd14C-tIsBMUJ4bJZHWnPR7dHvuT91MHZKzk0n7HqdNgbgWXebgIhvvtPFs_FsSLyI-7ANLDgk2Bi57qfqQ9c-G70C_97OkmegO7E/s320/20240214_113347_HDR_1707942672508.png" width="317" /></a></div>I really dallied over the ironing. It was emotionally evocative. The same grandmother who gave me the maple embroidery hoops and taught me to cross stitch also taught me to iron. For her, it was a living and a task taken seriously. </div><div><br /></div><div>I polished both sides of each cloth, then married them together with steam and pressure. There was much (mostly unnecessary) pinning and basting before measuring and basting on guidelines.</div><div> </div><div>All of this a commitment to an outcome. </div><div><br /></div><div>Spell casting takes work. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTrfX5Id1-MNLNlaNgxfOXHmwml6RHOFLpryxli83fiCSt02IU3ESpzoIeFN8Pvd4_jB5dlXXV7672VF6A3umsCmU70R5niWDmaU9bFG4SLEt0nkWlyfn32eTtMprZwY6v61ri3ny2ydGpWKpkkK7OltpJWI2XUW8CkWEczfjsmoRN4TtMk_4-/s2213/20240214_174433_HDR_1707966766515.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2213" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTrfX5Id1-MNLNlaNgxfOXHmwml6RHOFLpryxli83fiCSt02IU3ESpzoIeFN8Pvd4_jB5dlXXV7672VF6A3umsCmU70R5niWDmaU9bFG4SLEt0nkWlyfn32eTtMprZwY6v61ri3ny2ydGpWKpkkK7OltpJWI2XUW8CkWEczfjsmoRN4TtMk_4-/w416-h640/20240214_174433_HDR_1707966766515.png" width="416" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Then came the fun part. I lost myself and my carers for hours sketching the letterforms. The ampersands will be the death of me, but not the project. </div><div><br /></div><div>When the words "and the" wouldn't fit, I couldn't remember what a proper ampersand looked like and had to google some examples. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm still not sure I want to deviate from the original. That would mean starting over with an adjustment to scale and placement. </div><div><br /></div><div>Slow and thoughtful steps will keep me from abandoning the whole thing.</div><div><br /></div><div>This sketch was done on a large drawing pad. What I really needed I knew to be buried deep in the bedroom closet. Tracing paper and the T-square I bought in art school tucked away in the dusty portfolio. </div><div><br /></div><div>Not in the same portfolio was an 18"x24" painting I was hoping to find. Nothing more than a large section of type (Times New Roman, if memory serves) meticulously reproduced in acrylics with what I remember as a watercolor brush with about ten hairs. Sable. Black letters on a dark teal background. THE lettering about two inches high. I'm sorry it's gone as it was strangely beautiful.</div><div>I also wonder why the actual text had zero significance.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLu6puIslalsZI26MduxTp5YYfNSd8Qx9X_67hQ9vXDVFQsmsIIb9kKA0X5mrCGQu4RGlWlAs7Q6o-uFohvLyLBNG3xN2spQMJF6sUGT5u5ENqQ0A8vb2Z8DZXEKjxEr8VHULWkMZ8QTLr0CVtX9nUOdWW4dcC_NSZ6EL5PGATeLmVHJyofCzc/s1862/20240215_083439_HDR_1708004302081.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1862" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLu6puIslalsZI26MduxTp5YYfNSd8Qx9X_67hQ9vXDVFQsmsIIb9kKA0X5mrCGQu4RGlWlAs7Q6o-uFohvLyLBNG3xN2spQMJF6sUGT5u5ENqQ0A8vb2Z8DZXEKjxEr8VHULWkMZ8QTLr0CVtX9nUOdWW4dcC_NSZ6EL5PGATeLmVHJyofCzc/w309-h400/20240215_083439_HDR_1708004302081.png" width="309" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Other things from a typical 60s art portfolio. Some hard-earned psychedelia, the drawing assignment "Don't lift your pen from the page" and a surprisingly effective dab at watercolor - something I love looking at but never studied. <br /><br /><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNk4o2vizlL-YhWeHZKCnXjGglpc8oI7GqveRSsp6LPO5YYEEx7dTF9ff-dF0mPYo43T5vnCX1TO0WbAwj8rEebDxRwDEpyIpRk3ZWX2DDymsMWE_8hmxTShmIsz0Jh0LohntmUHZFDNIMfQxHJd0-AMKjgkgZ4xLsc9ZQL8sANoyzu6S3bMGy/s2560/20240215_083142_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNk4o2vizlL-YhWeHZKCnXjGglpc8oI7GqveRSsp6LPO5YYEEx7dTF9ff-dF0mPYo43T5vnCX1TO0WbAwj8rEebDxRwDEpyIpRk3ZWX2DDymsMWE_8hmxTShmIsz0Jh0LohntmUHZFDNIMfQxHJd0-AMKjgkgZ4xLsc9ZQL8sANoyzu6S3bMGy/w360-h640/20240215_083142_HDR.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwEaMs-WRGdHOggYm72yJ19rS5OtFNq6FX4peA6EukkdVQg5DGfupT4-8UFqDfESThLpAY4byj0N1lSLvDyMW0TUTFWCUS4nRRKOFfxuXQspgwK4afT7bu79B-Uthg0pnzOGQI3EvyHeOn3-u_KbAa54cMt2shU1-hDX1oddU0oATxHuSJOXRi/s1453/20240215_083101_HDR_1708004406087.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1453" data-original-width="1407" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwEaMs-WRGdHOggYm72yJ19rS5OtFNq6FX4peA6EukkdVQg5DGfupT4-8UFqDfESThLpAY4byj0N1lSLvDyMW0TUTFWCUS4nRRKOFfxuXQspgwK4afT7bu79B-Uthg0pnzOGQI3EvyHeOn3-u_KbAa54cMt2shU1-hDX1oddU0oATxHuSJOXRi/w388-h400/20240215_083101_HDR_1708004406087.png" width="388" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYlxx4DAHe_ljNqlGOLIfBwwdYVrAfraY3S5e_FVVb-gk15tBEADgU5SpfNGoRWHKXym3SXbmlOtiYBrddsulVdF-mSi8nErVLgVtBNyWecS-i6HdG_CvnN1u3-sxSF08Zlv1ho0nGsESAkL_6OqWgoZJDtZxguvu7dtgf9ldnQmizZ2hLJP4z/s1440/20240215_083113_HDR_1708004368131.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1428" data-original-width="1440" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYlxx4DAHe_ljNqlGOLIfBwwdYVrAfraY3S5e_FVVb-gk15tBEADgU5SpfNGoRWHKXym3SXbmlOtiYBrddsulVdF-mSi8nErVLgVtBNyWecS-i6HdG_CvnN1u3-sxSF08Zlv1ho0nGsESAkL_6OqWgoZJDtZxguvu7dtgf9ldnQmizZ2hLJP4z/w400-h396/20240215_083113_HDR_1708004368131.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOJkZeEJ8Owv6Dsy1VitHPBomqcV8C9YLuNx2y_JaikzH0b7lgW0CaT7AOw2_9lFIyIlviH-czl3-66vvVhnwCVQXqnyJI0WSznEVNwBCfOhc-yFXFXLkc3D588wB2xRvnTLONduHC089UdlSPEEMKYFmnsWLsNyCYktkgIxjUo-TJmyUtAKoi/s1440/20240215_092113_HDR_1708006917127.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1288" data-original-width="1440" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOJkZeEJ8Owv6Dsy1VitHPBomqcV8C9YLuNx2y_JaikzH0b7lgW0CaT7AOw2_9lFIyIlviH-czl3-66vvVhnwCVQXqnyJI0WSznEVNwBCfOhc-yFXFXLkc3D588wB2xRvnTLONduHC089UdlSPEEMKYFmnsWLsNyCYktkgIxjUo-TJmyUtAKoi/w400-h358/20240215_092113_HDR_1708006917127.png" width="400" /></a></div>And yes, the two layers of linen needle very nicely, otherwise I might just take the cloth out in the yard and hang it in the crepe myrtle grove and watch it slip back into nature.<div><br /></div><div>The circle IS cast. </div>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-80953100177492678342024-02-11T12:46:00.000-05:002024-02-11T12:46:22.658-05:00Solutions <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4stMcPz8X4wCaeROqAKkw8-7psBuqBWkklLVnju-hkSdP1c9uNZmg7DQklHXeMs7yV582z4i8GVnb8yEoW01EHQqAFOIyxcL8FDDHfa3DE2HztqIg6bKLCJrvcsiCC4or8SiYlmn6aGMezbzgW4hyphenhyphenpfv-cWAyWeeTk4k7y7g7mSlDnv0GExz/s1017/20231217_143150_HDR_1707670188022.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1017" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4stMcPz8X4wCaeROqAKkw8-7psBuqBWkklLVnju-hkSdP1c9uNZmg7DQklHXeMs7yV582z4i8GVnb8yEoW01EHQqAFOIyxcL8FDDHfa3DE2HztqIg6bKLCJrvcsiCC4or8SiYlmn6aGMezbzgW4hyphenhyphenpfv-cWAyWeeTk4k7y7g7mSlDnv0GExz/w284-h400/20231217_143150_HDR_1707670188022.png" width="284" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Woke up from a false dawn dream. Usually, these are the best, but this one was complex, cinematic, and disorienting. A nightmare in disguise. </p><p>I couldn't open my eyes. I stretched out my left hand and found Bailey's paw as an anchor. His solid, furred head then covered the back of my hand, and he heaved a sigh. </p><p>A calm moved through me. Brought me back to the safety of the here and now. I don't wonder whether or not they know how their gestures affect us. I'm just glad of it.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGl7dzhGmmFSYuKTtFzpviuLzMPTC-MIleGfw_0QCQb0dteLnY7hv0q_g8fpHagcUyGh5J2tVnRJmdFtAOTpCFer7v4TpNXoWC3wdLnBhLwOxMaGF7Gh566d_4CNxDx8HvpezxEE-4r1BwvacY2ry51kFmaGxePvg4DHO5LPo3Rm-GLsOGxcxE/s1749/20240211_090135_HDR_1707670234348.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1749" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGl7dzhGmmFSYuKTtFzpviuLzMPTC-MIleGfw_0QCQb0dteLnY7hv0q_g8fpHagcUyGh5J2tVnRJmdFtAOTpCFer7v4TpNXoWC3wdLnBhLwOxMaGF7Gh566d_4CNxDx8HvpezxEE-4r1BwvacY2ry51kFmaGxePvg4DHO5LPo3Rm-GLsOGxcxE/w329-h400/20240211_090135_HDR_1707670234348.png" width="329" /></a></div><br /><p>I've struggled to find the right fabric to cobble into a few summer shifts. The last two were made from scraps of this cotton marked "Provence" on the selvage edges. </p><p>Before the two long gowns, I made this 80x80 bedspread from the same cloth and backed it with one layer of muslin. Soft and warm enough for any AC-induced chill. </p><p>When I moved back into the master suite, I went from a king-sized bed to a queen (a choice I still regret) and had to buy new bed linen. </p><p>I was appalled at the cost of 100% cotton sheet sets so I bit the bullet and bought two sets advertised as "bamboo" for less than half the price of cotton. </p><p>After a year, I've come around to preferring them to cotton. The fabric is soft, light, cool to the touch, and has held up to wear and laundering. </p><p>The plan is to go back to the big box store, pick out a new set, and cut them up for making some skin flings. Knee length this time. </p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ5einb9NBxf-u2IVr_nk9z_cwgBNnGnO8xoxA-nYJCRm25QaSgDQIarxtV3OtVdBpOjjSf7cgTXvU3wADAZ6CM2WlpMv9R-dkdjTrk1iYV20uUuVfeDR6FwAwFnUZN5gMF97m9bEyc_f6e1Ba1n0uHqVaoGSNxjFY0wXhLU69bVIEDaN8VsML/s1488/20240211_090115_HDR_1707670278492.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ5einb9NBxf-u2IVr_nk9z_cwgBNnGnO8xoxA-nYJCRm25QaSgDQIarxtV3OtVdBpOjjSf7cgTXvU3wADAZ6CM2WlpMv9R-dkdjTrk1iYV20uUuVfeDR6FwAwFnUZN5gMF97m9bEyc_f6e1Ba1n0uHqVaoGSNxjFY0wXhLU69bVIEDaN8VsML/w388-h400/20240211_090115_HDR_1707670278492.png" width="388" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><br /> <p></p>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-43583648438863511942024-02-09T11:29:00.002-05:002024-02-09T11:31:46.686-05:00Not spring <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-445QolGOSHFljZ35kWhgK4PnOl_i1tMdD-PNn7jdKdgmQvAS_5oDWRbq2pq_a8pGQp0juS8Q9ld1Rg2J1JAZKa0VqBwcr8LoL765FeYaoAt6hi9tqiFnZge0OoZ5mR9pcmv-fwp6QhWqs5YqU4nW3lfO8ZrzzddMu9YVk7LVhBg_iIRWrmwt/s1524/20240209_100306_HDR_1707491042887.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1524" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-445QolGOSHFljZ35kWhgK4PnOl_i1tMdD-PNn7jdKdgmQvAS_5oDWRbq2pq_a8pGQp0juS8Q9ld1Rg2J1JAZKa0VqBwcr8LoL765FeYaoAt6hi9tqiFnZge0OoZ5mR9pcmv-fwp6QhWqs5YqU4nW3lfO8ZrzzddMu9YVk7LVhBg_iIRWrmwt/s320/20240209_100306_HDR_1707491042887.png" width="302" /></a></div><br /> <div>On second thought, I keep forgetting where I am and that the seasons aren't what I grew up with.<p></p><div> The grove is filled with robins, bluejays, a flicker, a host of little brown I-don't-know-whats, and a couple of crows who look like battleships compared to the others. I don't bother with pictures because my phone/camera isn't up to the distance and, no giraffes in sight.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'll put out the last bag of feed on my way to the country in a bit.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;">Dee called this Insta description a poem. I guess. For all I know about poetry.</span></div><div><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;">We swell, break, and still.</span><br style="animation-name: none; background-color: white; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; transition-property: none;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;">Are cursed, given, or stolen.</span><br style="animation-name: none; background-color: white; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; transition-property: none;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;">Sworn on, pine, and leap.</span><br style="animation-name: none; background-color: white; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; transition-property: none;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;">Race and burn, full.</span><br style="animation-name: none; background-color: white; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; transition-property: none;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;">Holding you. Keeping time.</span></div><div><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT1d6e6Z0tGanmI4duNC7uiTO0ZU3jnDax3_luiCcjjPztleaJhlTwd1TDQ3V2zPPqqJJrydIhW8-cj97EUnyejNiZhqDcZIfjTAcD0BN5M68ZJ-Ly5t2_R8byXi3jhdCUzrnkrAckvE49AJuFM1CIzADGPNt62QHCk3RecOex032NE1b8vcsE/s1080/IMG_20240206_110420_540.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT1d6e6Z0tGanmI4duNC7uiTO0ZU3jnDax3_luiCcjjPztleaJhlTwd1TDQ3V2zPPqqJJrydIhW8-cj97EUnyejNiZhqDcZIfjTAcD0BN5M68ZJ-Ly5t2_R8byXi3jhdCUzrnkrAckvE49AJuFM1CIzADGPNt62QHCk3RecOex032NE1b8vcsE/w640-h640/IMG_20240206_110420_540.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-17307511451587509012024-02-06T12:00:00.003-05:002024-02-06T12:00:59.658-05:00one more wandering heart<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5EevfP__UZuugsFOMlBZSHoYJkTUwEwrxL6B4TqzyAdZZmYWKIaGO_GkUqJS_ZiysAJKZW4PYPZjPW8Ezgw1lcLYf97yyg9509BmaJ2kYbzQWvpLsJZCY7n5fX9KDyER2QDz57VccehDeBrKyF_aA-2tkRfuPFFQ0qtibI_lL6LFNx39vYaUB/s1896/20240206_114757_HDR_1707238109066.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1896" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5EevfP__UZuugsFOMlBZSHoYJkTUwEwrxL6B4TqzyAdZZmYWKIaGO_GkUqJS_ZiysAJKZW4PYPZjPW8Ezgw1lcLYf97yyg9509BmaJ2kYbzQWvpLsJZCY7n5fX9KDyER2QDz57VccehDeBrKyF_aA-2tkRfuPFFQ0qtibI_lL6LFNx39vYaUB/w486-h640/20240206_114757_HDR_1707238109066.png" width="486" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>The last for a while.<p></p><div>My thread stash is uninspiring. I'll work this one in the stone colors that I have left.</div><div><br /></div><div>The rest are <a href="https://likehotcakes.blogspot.com/">here</a> on sale for that heart holiday.</div><div><br /></div><div>This is also the last bit of linen chopped from a favorite blouse that accidentally became part of a dyefest. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Summer seems far away, but we have clear blue skies today so I'll get out as it warms up and gather some vitamin D and perhaps, some inspiration.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-66573270514186448742024-01-31T11:50:00.006-05:002024-01-31T19:54:29.640-05:00Arcs<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqrH2TijBLsgvPZd7lj6hRTeLY3Y8rxFYooCxuRH1vQrgBZz18lk1vAmhFU6Tk6ufX3rm7-2ZYRhcggFdU7cp7smTbqzfwlekXd5yq2hu-usHKiV_I_oUF6KqAXPWeoBQpzZkEBna1R0oFLnFCj_fynv4tlrWfUaSqSv0zrroHydSl-3J2sc0H/s1388/20240131_103905_HDR_1706716877998.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1388" data-original-width="1249" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqrH2TijBLsgvPZd7lj6hRTeLY3Y8rxFYooCxuRH1vQrgBZz18lk1vAmhFU6Tk6ufX3rm7-2ZYRhcggFdU7cp7smTbqzfwlekXd5yq2hu-usHKiV_I_oUF6KqAXPWeoBQpzZkEBna1R0oFLnFCj_fynv4tlrWfUaSqSv0zrroHydSl-3J2sc0H/s320/20240131_103905_HDR_1706716877998.png" width="288" /></a></div><div><i>Because I was actively watching a show while stitching, I can't tell you how many times I backed out a dozen or more stitches on this one because I didn't lik</i><i>e the curve. Thank the goddess for the forgiving nature of linen.</i></div><div><br /></div>I'm watching a British limited series called "The Stranger" on Netflix. It only has eight episodes, praise Jeebus. There are too many characters and storylines going on at odds but it's based on a book by Harlan Coben, who has 80 million books in print so I guess he knows what he's doing. I'll suffer through the end of it, but being dragged through a story just to find out who dunnit grinds my gears. I won't give a printed book this much grace.<div><br /></div><div><i>And</i> I am fed to the teeth with TV shows and movies that lean so heavily on technology--people staring dumbly at their cells for every significant revelation. </div><div><br /></div><div>The last time I remember the deus ex machina being used effectively was at the end of The Usual Suspects with the faxed image of Keyser Soze that crawled to life seconds too late. </div><div><br /></div><div>Watching people have their lives turned upside down by a text message has become a boring trope. Imagine being from a time when such problems didn't exist? Bless the aficionados of historical fiction.</div><div><br /></div><div>Because of my hearing deficit and the piss-poor sound quality of many productions, I rely on closed captioning to follow a TV story. When an actor stares dumbly at a cell phone you're lucky if they flash the message on the screen long enough to read it. And if they don't show the message, the actors seem hard-pressed to convey it to the audience, if their faces are shown at all. </div><div><br /></div><div>All my kvetching aside (that's for you, Dee), the book I'm writing (and the ones I've already written) tend to get spaghetti-ish, plot-wise, but I promise myself and my readers that resolutions don't wait for the last chapter.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've had a plot problem recently and, as always, if I look at it properly and take it with me to sleep, the answers come by dream.</div><div><br /></div><div>Of course, there will be different flavors of magic and I'll make you believe all of them.</div><div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-25939508979386144692024-01-30T00:47:00.006-05:002024-02-01T11:40:42.956-05:00Casting about<p> I met a writer/editor friend for lunch at a new-to-me Mexican joint. Em was one of the first people to offer some tough constructive criticism of my writing. We could do that for each other when needed. So, we talked about her upcoming publications. I had long-hand notes scribbled on junk mail while I waited in the parking lot for her.</p><div> Freshly cooked (by anyone but me) food is such a novelty, I'm ashamed to say. Lately making a few baked potatoes to decorate is a big kitchen adventure. I ruined a batch of brownies by not checking to see if the oil had expired until after I used it. Very. </div><div><br /></div><div>In the afternoon, I discovered a new and delightful way to fritter away time. Casting your novel. Never a good idea, but I'm in the mood for running bad ones. </div><div><br /></div><div>I put the rest of this post where it belongs. <a href="http://cookingthehook.blogspot.com/p/casting-about.html">Here</a></div><div><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p></div>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-22612655146950853572024-01-29T09:53:00.000-05:002024-01-29T09:53:08.188-05:00Dirty thread in the sun<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8rxGxB-6dI8OV-PxiMJUZTRJxGqcbsEatVVJFakKS-29ReQqI_eFkADIS78RManOyOUS11_kBSkc2_p_xF6XZQUMXCYh7QHIS-ATqbwcLkw3v_6aUqKCoyCINAEIjqIdxytseSO9_GSr5wnY2ZKwMrnUvQNTWbnEFwmUR9-4x5aATGHKr52zg/s1727/20240129_091542_HDR_1706537930218.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1358" data-original-width="1727" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8rxGxB-6dI8OV-PxiMJUZTRJxGqcbsEatVVJFakKS-29ReQqI_eFkADIS78RManOyOUS11_kBSkc2_p_xF6XZQUMXCYh7QHIS-ATqbwcLkw3v_6aUqKCoyCINAEIjqIdxytseSO9_GSr5wnY2ZKwMrnUvQNTWbnEFwmUR9-4x5aATGHKr52zg/w400-h315/20240129_091542_HDR_1706537930218.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /> Filling an order this morning required a hard inventory. Instead of coming up short, I found a set that had never been named or photographed. It happens.<div><br /></div><div>Which will become its name, "It Happens" and if someone doesn't snap it up in the next few days, my stash is seriously low on greens and blues. And that mystery color on the right might have a future in a stitch spell sooner than later.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl_9H-ZiuwvgaIYcQm-qVoBV8CTC5GKnDBh_H6hUqQ2LXEwgLawExFzbIEhFheP66ZVlxCbF82bCD42cpdCHm8fzOhjKY5oQCu_J3fuOdg0W5BoY7RmL0Q1YlxXfllih31vPFhDB2NpFwZ66qaatN0Fo_C7QiEMvbkvYt_zspfpum-ND1rnIIA/s2560/20240129_092815_HDR_1706538717704.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="2560" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl_9H-ZiuwvgaIYcQm-qVoBV8CTC5GKnDBh_H6hUqQ2LXEwgLawExFzbIEhFheP66ZVlxCbF82bCD42cpdCHm8fzOhjKY5oQCu_J3fuOdg0W5BoY7RmL0Q1YlxXfllih31vPFhDB2NpFwZ66qaatN0Fo_C7QiEMvbkvYt_zspfpum-ND1rnIIA/w640-h360/20240129_092815_HDR_1706538717704.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisw3Yyqs8-UFZ85ukr-Ves60CgyY3h6OSyu-cBva3iGCY4Lgoap01dYvw7laq5-SPYRUwTzYaZGNQ_d_nL4dgoVxcc8gc1TuD9Lwno1hzU0E1j9E1WDB22GXOFbnNNpXf6rP-7aPuF0g_hwf1CV2-2jHT-jLXdoHk6AZPx8oWTy_TnO-FnC2d0/s1434/20240129_092721_HDR_1706538656351.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1434" data-original-width="1379" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisw3Yyqs8-UFZ85ukr-Ves60CgyY3h6OSyu-cBva3iGCY4Lgoap01dYvw7laq5-SPYRUwTzYaZGNQ_d_nL4dgoVxcc8gc1TuD9Lwno1hzU0E1j9E1WDB22GXOFbnNNpXf6rP-7aPuF0g_hwf1CV2-2jHT-jLXdoHk6AZPx8oWTy_TnO-FnC2d0/s320/20240129_092721_HDR_1706538656351.png" width="308" /></a></div>This is the glorious view from the Birthday Sewing chair. It's no wonder the cats gather here. I need plants to increase the oxygen for all of us. </div><div><br /></div><div>All that clutter on the table will be finding other places over the next few days. That dresser on the left is mostly empty, so sorting, trashing, and stowing.<p></p></div><div>The first project at the machine will be a couple of summer schmattas if I can find enough garment-appropriate cloth in the closet. I'm not building acres of cloth from scraps for dressmaking this time. </div><div><br /></div><div>I treated myself to a new bag. Been hauling the Black Hole of Calcutta around forever and was getting tired of the deflated motorcycle jacket look. It held up, so I'm retiring it to the closet for a well-earned vacation. I'm thinking the latest heart patch will go perfectly on the rather blank backside of this new one. Give it some pizzazz. </div><div><br /></div>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-27496462969317651682024-01-27T22:43:00.006-05:002024-01-27T22:54:10.673-05:00A visitor<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJDSoyjTKOahwYiD1cZIao-dK5nsCB-yh9BsF9CpCh4p2A4sDJZnAevciYhmgPIpOTJrXBF1ZNG8sDWn1wviZ-41IcGHdnjyQs9CVOmm4IuyuWVknLkDrY3wggKVCgU_DhDYQPlqKvFG1c-SYHBgKBaPI5NK7XwmTSOB7sPZc6LTJrgs1ZyOWV/s2560/20240127_142842_HDR.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJDSoyjTKOahwYiD1cZIao-dK5nsCB-yh9BsF9CpCh4p2A4sDJZnAevciYhmgPIpOTJrXBF1ZNG8sDWn1wviZ-41IcGHdnjyQs9CVOmm4IuyuWVknLkDrY3wggKVCgU_DhDYQPlqKvFG1c-SYHBgKBaPI5NK7XwmTSOB7sPZc6LTJrgs1ZyOWV/w360-h640/20240127_142842_HDR.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Change up! <div><br /></div><div>Jake had things to do down this way so he dropped Charlie off to spend the day with me and some old friends.</div><div><br /></div><div>When my boys were in school, I think they were the only kids I knew who got sick on a Friday afternoon.</div><div><br /></div><div>They would spend the weekend languishing under my care (non-stop cartoons, Tylenol, and chicken noodle soup) to perk up in time to get to school come Monday. Charlie came home from school on Friday with a mild fever and feeling punk. His father's son.</div><div><br /></div><div>The plan was for a low-key day. Fine by me in this shitty weather. He helped me swing the work table up against the wall clearing space for floor play. After an hour or so of conversation, we decided to watch a Studio <a href="https://ghiblicollection.com/" target="_blank">Ghibli</a> film together. </div><div><br /></div><div>He is the perfect age to get lost in these sweet, charming animated films, most from the early 2000s. So different from the frenetic games and cartoons he usually watches, he settles in and is spellbound, and with good reason. With themes of myth, magic, family, honor, and the need to respect nature, the artwork, tender-hearted stories, and glimpses of Japanese culture make for that "been to another world" feeling - thanks to the genius of director Hayao Miyazaki.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>The first one we saw was "Spirited Away" which won the award for Best Animated Feature in 2001. Brand new to the family, Camilla was still not quite walking from whatever trauma she sustained when she was abandoned. She lay content in Charlie's arms for the whole two hours of the film. Her little nose was still bruised in this shot from Jan 2022.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJ0L_RKCraU-ueerddneYCdoc_7w4RfWJwZL6FeVUUwT0xeeTWx6zxunn2rQfpa-OlXc2fYukHqFKeA7ECdHwYUB1q80yRKBE9rGdPJ9xflqvInHkkaCBMCU2Q9vAqUCN4g8QyLW9Xz4V_0e21r7f-RvIfrcA-K_8nPXpETD3mU5PkKamZnXP/s921/CharlieandCamilla.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="921" data-original-width="757" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJ0L_RKCraU-ueerddneYCdoc_7w4RfWJwZL6FeVUUwT0xeeTWx6zxunn2rQfpa-OlXc2fYukHqFKeA7ECdHwYUB1q80yRKBE9rGdPJ9xflqvInHkkaCBMCU2Q9vAqUCN4g8QyLW9Xz4V_0e21r7f-RvIfrcA-K_8nPXpETD3mU5PkKamZnXP/w329-h400/CharlieandCamilla.png" width="329" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>After the movie was over today, Charlie declared he'd like to try having tea. Camilla assisted while we waited for the kettle to boil.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtTU9OkXRLId3KQ0CR6VBHYBVwg0fg-FbcBQW6O_gitSDEAz4NXyBO68KpeeYcy8QdbaPqGzys4cI2tlxkio01TsRDunFtR8dYwMKbJSnZnmwdsCrsmXlpp7hNclQ0KD2LiMuyUsWbNw8HILNTylvae4Ce8_mVwV_H5TA8qdYXim3uXa9CMC9A/s2048/camillakisscharlie.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtTU9OkXRLId3KQ0CR6VBHYBVwg0fg-FbcBQW6O_gitSDEAz4NXyBO68KpeeYcy8QdbaPqGzys4cI2tlxkio01TsRDunFtR8dYwMKbJSnZnmwdsCrsmXlpp7hNclQ0KD2LiMuyUsWbNw8HILNTylvae4Ce8_mVwV_H5TA8qdYXim3uXa9CMC9A/w360-h640/camillakisscharlie.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /><p></p></div>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-51950794276120771572024-01-25T19:51:00.000-05:002024-01-25T19:51:17.069-05:00Intent<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji4qdMvruIB7ryj6nmT8LPF-R2jlUTG1ZUhEKKzU_6PBKaSsSBwGl9rh7loe_z0Z_JULY65gthqmQmhkoFnCaB374ZFgCQkgaRvOtU-QKueAeDQ3yoYy4s6Zj8FXkc66xLzJ7prXeXW5cc8WJ88ER0A4pY8YgEHTFKVs1Jcu2VM4e5a2kfvcdp/s1440/20240125_143405_HDR_1706211347931.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji4qdMvruIB7ryj6nmT8LPF-R2jlUTG1ZUhEKKzU_6PBKaSsSBwGl9rh7loe_z0Z_JULY65gthqmQmhkoFnCaB374ZFgCQkgaRvOtU-QKueAeDQ3yoYy4s6Zj8FXkc66xLzJ7prXeXW5cc8WJ88ER0A4pY8YgEHTFKVs1Jcu2VM4e5a2kfvcdp/s320/20240125_143405_HDR_1706211347931.png" width="320" /></a></div>The lettering practice went badly last night. But I spent a lot of time just looking at letterforms. Drawing while reclining in bed is not going to give good results. <div><br /></div><div>I was tired from a late-in-the-day trip to the grocery store. The girl cats are in their beds by dark. Mr. B comes in and jumps on the bed at about 930-10. No sign of him before I fell asleep.</div><div><br /></div><div>This morning, he didn't report for breakfast. The cat door was open but no one had seen him. This is a creature of dependable habits. He knows when and where breakfast comes from. </div><div><br /></div><div>The day devolved into calling for him, worrying, and looking out the streetside windows. My unspoken fear is that cats get taken by coyotes especially when there are pups to feed in the spring. Overnight our near-freezing temps jumped to sixty with overnight thunderstorms.</div><div><br /></div><div> I started this one for distraction, but I kept the curves and lines of the letterforms in mind. </div><div><br /></div><div>Just before dark, I went outside to drive around the neighborhood looking for corpses. Unlocked my car to have this devil pop up from behind the driver's seat where he spent the whole night. He loves to hop into the car before I can get out. Last night I stopped at the top of the driveway to scatter birdseed and didn't see him sneak aboard. </div><div><br /></div><div>How these hairy people will run your life.</div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZiT2i2QOKiBG35J39w2ASe9Rv-lHjbork9YCRRAMyeIJilEim0AXrv5JwlFZnc2LgDNVbU7w2TlbHg91yrxWpUggEutRB9V2mTxS32MMz4ErNOe7AhfLzawMRntK5xqWnFw5MVu7HjMH193XUMcVZfum48ETr95Dd2HgXyt6z0z8dEuTlSdXS/s2560/20240125_174443_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZiT2i2QOKiBG35J39w2ASe9Rv-lHjbork9YCRRAMyeIJilEim0AXrv5JwlFZnc2LgDNVbU7w2TlbHg91yrxWpUggEutRB9V2mTxS32MMz4ErNOe7AhfLzawMRntK5xqWnFw5MVu7HjMH193XUMcVZfum48ETr95Dd2HgXyt6z0z8dEuTlSdXS/w360-h640/20240125_174443_HDR.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's mad because I won't let him out now to be a cat.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p></div></div>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-33719361565295946162024-01-24T13:42:00.001-05:002024-01-24T13:49:12.007-05:00Something old reimagined<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_bvssBUzXHBpRRInhtKUm797vwB433orppYafzC6l2fFKZ8xR83pBfMMHtalxC98W5_gePxYefUkoZQFvz9CxMRpKVGGM1pU0Upjz1Vs0gV2mhDIwDsxqrmWy70HKDZdAnd7IdWiKlzJSoQXI3G32QK2_oXxhHn20HAmvKNIIEFULwSJmKz_H/s1440/20240123_195622_HDR_1706109648988.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_bvssBUzXHBpRRInhtKUm797vwB433orppYafzC6l2fFKZ8xR83pBfMMHtalxC98W5_gePxYefUkoZQFvz9CxMRpKVGGM1pU0Upjz1Vs0gV2mhDIwDsxqrmWy70HKDZdAnd7IdWiKlzJSoQXI3G32QK2_oXxhHn20HAmvKNIIEFULwSJmKz_H/s320/20240123_195622_HDR_1706109648988.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXnpTxq0_wGX69rM_stpIqDMGYo_gWlieMkrOrE-Wg6_jjx9DloJj_lYlaSapcPeaWnmzIjKPwnDwB6UaNN9ONBImaouy-JMR0B2fiBrW8A5Q8gL6RUPVM-gyytZ7RtQ3Zp7Phslm3weVDnfBopOiatF1W2687T0ybFCZLEVQ7daj9hRdLj2Zv/s1440/20240124_101643_HDR_1706110046530.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXnpTxq0_wGX69rM_stpIqDMGYo_gWlieMkrOrE-Wg6_jjx9DloJj_lYlaSapcPeaWnmzIjKPwnDwB6UaNN9ONBImaouy-JMR0B2fiBrW8A5Q8gL6RUPVM-gyytZ7RtQ3Zp7Phslm3weVDnfBopOiatF1W2687T0ybFCZLEVQ7daj9hRdLj2Zv/s320/20240124_101643_HDR_1706110046530.png" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>I tried replicating the Santa's Sleigh font. It sure doesn't come naturally, pen on paper, that is. I was test-driving my <a href="https://morewgalo.blogspot.com/2020/05/that-stitch.html">text stitch</a> here using a crewel needle and the full six strands of DMC, doubled. To be fair, the project will have larger size letters. Twice this. Still, it fell clunky and a colossal waste of thread. <div><br /></div><div>I'll be happier if I lay the text out with my own font (the top photo) - a bastardized slab serif instead of trying to be letter true to Santa's Sleigh. </div><div><br /></div><div>Back in the day, I was a font whore. Snapping up freebies from sketchy warez websites at every opportunity. Probably caught computer cooties more than once that way. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then I fell in love with one that had to be purchased. With MONEY. It's called Decoracha. You can see the charm. I think at the time it was only available commercially and for Mac users. I got over it but will refer to certain characteristics of it in my own font whenever spacing calls for flexibility. I need to sit with a sketch pad and just draw letters for a while before I even think of stitching anything.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy5zsqiJtyVdu9ozPUEShjcmznm9Thw_YK0sSA_Bz2ws0R4fl1MIxs3Qlfy1cYViq4nqqcJP4wI7YZ3fbYaEsefGEVpayyalJG2AGfICAJaE6rW9uICUll_lEdI2kicQbyOdIeWW7MeuHnGIc5cH0CphTgRgwIVJT-65aXVXCiThjNMX6DtYhi/s1400/decoracha.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="715" data-original-width="1400" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy5zsqiJtyVdu9ozPUEShjcmznm9Thw_YK0sSA_Bz2ws0R4fl1MIxs3Qlfy1cYViq4nqqcJP4wI7YZ3fbYaEsefGEVpayyalJG2AGfICAJaE6rW9uICUll_lEdI2kicQbyOdIeWW7MeuHnGIc5cH0CphTgRgwIVJT-65aXVXCiThjNMX6DtYhi/w640-h326/decoracha.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jT-rV7UtkSq9qRK9Qyr5XckE-O9gVbcp8YsriaDzhzHldGaHhDNFnAdo_oSu_3_YpshWOVe0NkGaNe_a13tKKoUM3n6y4LtysBbvElaGgB362HcknFbdz93q6flXT3nF4m9L69UOKbc5S1skWq2E_a0ab5R9KoFbZ26LvFj1Qii-2sCoWL9M/s1562/20240124_101730_HDR_1706109933748.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1562" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jT-rV7UtkSq9qRK9Qyr5XckE-O9gVbcp8YsriaDzhzHldGaHhDNFnAdo_oSu_3_YpshWOVe0NkGaNe_a13tKKoUM3n6y4LtysBbvElaGgB362HcknFbdz93q6flXT3nF4m9L69UOKbc5S1skWq2E_a0ab5R9KoFbZ26LvFj1Qii-2sCoWL9M/s320/20240124_101730_HDR_1706109933748.png" width="295" /></a></div>Grubbing around in the cloth closet, I found the perfect piece for the project. It's lightweight contemporary linen so I know it is young and strong, still, I'm going to back it with another layer because it's a big project that's going to take a lot of handling. </div><div><br /></div><div>This linen was most likely a table mopper. I like the light linen for that because it is as absorbent as paper towels. Then there was some Soft Scrub discharging. I can tell by the blue halos. </div><div><br /></div><div>The whole piece of cloth has a mystery touch that suits my purpose of the spell. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm going to do all of this the hard way, starting with ironing a grid into the cloth. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0mgYdZaZlKpafCFz8Unxys8jKVrpxClK7uAtFtUq89a04n4nozkxLYx90SPc0aDjyxeQmijk21qJNGQdRG4kqKdAGijrtEuyDVJ4KmG6HGqOkwfjK1tcLR11n0bAvz43FlEkfkkzxSbLrqhs2n8PvxBiJT8_y1w7MbDU75qMSGpdGC2nqx_ro/s1440/20240124_101801_HDR_1706109886548.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0mgYdZaZlKpafCFz8Unxys8jKVrpxClK7uAtFtUq89a04n4nozkxLYx90SPc0aDjyxeQmijk21qJNGQdRG4kqKdAGijrtEuyDVJ4KmG6HGqOkwfjK1tcLR11n0bAvz43FlEkfkkzxSbLrqhs2n8PvxBiJT8_y1w7MbDU75qMSGpdGC2nqx_ro/s320/20240124_101801_HDR_1706109886548.png" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Letters to words, to sentences. </div><div>All of it's the driving wheel of the writing train. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><i><span style="font-size: medium;">You never know what</span></i></div><div><i><span style="font-size: medium;">minutes are going to matter. </span></i></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJy-hc7EojvyFHGwSguZ-eYcQPetkPol5lXAnRJ6-6kbvpwEy3_h3p43F81TU2T82j9_aJ2AJqoBeQAf7XcKFn1preMueDpyfkwRmRjt8u18sCfhT9NRdCnvUorKSXDkUwxiBudtfXXLIj4bZUBZGzActtAfcGxBwSP0qKXUyJjtiDAVRhA0Pz/s1766/20240124_102216_HDR_1706109803335.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1766" height="326" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJy-hc7EojvyFHGwSguZ-eYcQPetkPol5lXAnRJ6-6kbvpwEy3_h3p43F81TU2T82j9_aJ2AJqoBeQAf7XcKFn1preMueDpyfkwRmRjt8u18sCfhT9NRdCnvUorKSXDkUwxiBudtfXXLIj4bZUBZGzActtAfcGxBwSP0qKXUyJjtiDAVRhA0Pz/w400-h326/20240124_102216_HDR_1706109803335.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p></div>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-7648564542783529082024-01-21T20:15:00.001-05:002024-01-22T10:05:50.790-05:00Strange view updated for Monday<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWGx2CFncZCYNQGTkK8TR8Qau26-nt0dK37RWdotOnp3sG2UBSegM7odzOPAW2K0BG-qnyEufmrf3ehCzA-2r7F87oVIgpGAnDIPFj_5YR_UByapanZZX1poLnyhQ6rCMh2PpeXkGHFRrqDPL9L0iEW4rVzm0R4Nx7zqFObeNL-fbUDzEA1IYo/s2086/20240121_132257_HDR_1705884459961.png" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2086" data-original-width="1425" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWGx2CFncZCYNQGTkK8TR8Qau26-nt0dK37RWdotOnp3sG2UBSegM7odzOPAW2K0BG-qnyEufmrf3ehCzA-2r7F87oVIgpGAnDIPFj_5YR_UByapanZZX1poLnyhQ6rCMh2PpeXkGHFRrqDPL9L0iEW4rVzm0R4Nx7zqFObeNL-fbUDzEA1IYo/w438-h640/20240121_132257_HDR_1705884459961.png" width="438" /></a>Visitors parked across the way. The lavender cast in this color is missing. I don't know when it arrived or left but I must have looked at it a hundred times. Somehow wanting it to fly away like so much vapor. I swear I had a pair of Easter shoes that were the same color. Anyway....</p><p>But I've been busy shoveling around words and sentences. It's thirsty work. And damn little to show for it at this point. This book could get out of hand page-count-wise very easily. </p><p>How to add a new adventure only retelling necessary details from the first three books? The main characters went through a lot of changes in a short time. From strangers to married in only five months. That's a lot of heat. Now, how to keep that pace without getting carried away. </p><p>Fuck if I know how to do that. (out loud!)</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://deemallon.com/2024/01/22/to-do-list/">Dee's to-do list </a>is enough to send me back to bed. </p><p>The only thing I promise today is to buy and distribute more birdseed. Throw in some cheap peanuts and raisins. Winter is going to be long and hard for the feathered folk. I don't have a feeder. Just throw stuff on the ground up under the crape myrtles away from the cat crew. That bare spot on the ground in the picture sees a lot of action. If it gets above freezing, I'll put fresh water in the big clay dish. </p><p> At this moment a gang of bluejays is warring with the squirrels. Doves patrolling. In a while, they will leave and the littles will take over shuffling the leaves around to get at what the big greedy ones missed. Sparrows, wrens, chickadees. Midday I may see bluebirds and cardinals fussing with one another.</p><p>This week I will vacuum upstairs and clear off the work table. Laundry with clean sheets will happen along the way. Maybe.</p><p></p>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-27159528209633355212024-01-16T18:07:00.000-05:002024-01-16T18:07:13.525-05:00summer dreams<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4GTg0ctqSPSuor5w4uumT5fw7r7-SOg0cQo0e4FF_tKGCppt_lBsXMM9wzZWRpejlzKVw9nBd1OIjoa5amCwzk91B-eSYB8RTZXtdpZ78X_FAH70j2xQhNYQAR0IqrjUog9eBBZFBfW9TfiI5tdfzs28J5Q6SKkB7vFu0mUzDjYvX9J0wqBTf/s2560/20240116_132242_HDR.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4GTg0ctqSPSuor5w4uumT5fw7r7-SOg0cQo0e4FF_tKGCppt_lBsXMM9wzZWRpejlzKVw9nBd1OIjoa5amCwzk91B-eSYB8RTZXtdpZ78X_FAH70j2xQhNYQAR0IqrjUog9eBBZFBfW9TfiI5tdfzs28J5Q6SKkB7vFu0mUzDjYvX9J0wqBTf/w360-h640/20240116_132242_HDR.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><div>I really shouldn't complain. It's not like we've had days of below-freezing temps and inches or feet of snow. The featureless wet/cold of winter here wears on my nerves. It sneaks up on you and eventually sneaks away.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've been cruising the web for beach vacation stuff. Just looking really. Destin is six hours due south and Savannah is six hours due east. Seven if you loaf but then I need a half-day nap to recover. </div><div>The health and safety issues around car camping are real considerations, especially if I go alone. </div><div>Ah, youth. </div><div><br /></div><div>Once upon a time, I drove to Cape Cod with some friends not considering staying overnight. Young overindulging fools slept in a hole in the sand on the beach. Rousted but not arrested by the fuzz before dawn. </div><div>In the ladies' room, I stood on the toilet seat and poured a gallon of water over my head for cleanup the next day. </div><div><br /></div><div>On the way home we had to panhandle in traffic for the Mass Turnpike toll. Sheepishly offered two postage stamps and forty-six cents to the toll officer. He took the driver's license info and waved us on to face a ticket later. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was a fine night for a beach walk.</div><p></p>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-29471086758886742172024-01-14T18:43:00.001-05:002024-01-14T20:45:28.844-05:00Words to thread<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGqYf7dsvU5lWaYHcJSziXXTz3gZoy-q9C1fcizbSnbDpeU6T3jxLUBB2nQDIFYFUHNQDpiqA7bLPcazhDeQQZNncW9eLFovVyC0uduYy0zmk0FYRI3NIyAeyFfcYxf0v_DniZODjnPJCFU7Rm_xKqd8SA20X4ZYGr2oro7wl0O1sHNle9cf0u/s2560/20240111_211622_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="2560" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGqYf7dsvU5lWaYHcJSziXXTz3gZoy-q9C1fcizbSnbDpeU6T3jxLUBB2nQDIFYFUHNQDpiqA7bLPcazhDeQQZNncW9eLFovVyC0uduYy0zmk0FYRI3NIyAeyFfcYxf0v_DniZODjnPJCFU7Rm_xKqd8SA20X4ZYGr2oro7wl0O1sHNle9cf0u/s320/20240111_211622_HDR.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>This picture was wildly popular on Instagram yesterday. The only reason I can think of is that many people truly have run out of fucks to give. <p></p><p>I have on several accounts recently, but it's as tiring a carrying an old grudge. Dumping the put-upon, long-suffering persona is leaving some marvelous clear space for other actions. </p><p>Another pillow? A new sentiment will need a new font. A good reason to break out the sketch pad. </p><p>Great. Put another quarter in the jukebox. Commit the piracy of lyric lifting or just be inspired.</p><p><br /></p><p>And there it was, right under my nose. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPE96eWMH4ub_BQEswxuT9aLcbKWyBQQNGEJJS8SffcstmdYMwb-43YYFlJ36yRrFsnVxUcbNxwMg95s37C4nEG6o8-hgaYC7sxWsJHcPbHGaC-dIV_ePozszN9NW9nncsTiMzeoipFMmT7dTxpUcSHhkWxOfuZIY5kXDRKH6TGgibsFjWCorh/s272/newspell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="272" data-original-width="258" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPE96eWMH4ub_BQEswxuT9aLcbKWyBQQNGEJJS8SffcstmdYMwb-43YYFlJ36yRrFsnVxUcbNxwMg95s37C4nEG6o8-hgaYC7sxWsJHcPbHGaC-dIV_ePozszN9NW9nncsTiMzeoipFMmT7dTxpUcSHhkWxOfuZIY5kXDRKH6TGgibsFjWCorh/w379-h400/newspell.jpg" width="379" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19241214.post-41484192836373154662024-01-06T22:34:00.082-05:002024-01-09T19:43:46.295-05:00Other arting<p><br /></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaj1Wd_AQOGuSx_tapn9K7xija_5FCEImatS54Kt215hHW9ciUESjtGHaQeIvAuAaa8y8nMzgpS4NdgIO3lIH_w9EBHaq1geq0VIOJPgBzbL_OHQ4fwhRkSLSIKqRynFbfbhkdKYERUwJ2pEZ0eZ9sndGeU9NXYk2n4DfJSWq4j42OdZ8BoLGf/s882/20240109_173533_1704840120736.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="882" data-original-width="672" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaj1Wd_AQOGuSx_tapn9K7xija_5FCEImatS54Kt215hHW9ciUESjtGHaQeIvAuAaa8y8nMzgpS4NdgIO3lIH_w9EBHaq1geq0VIOJPgBzbL_OHQ4fwhRkSLSIKqRynFbfbhkdKYERUwJ2pEZ0eZ9sndGeU9NXYk2n4DfJSWq4j42OdZ8BoLGf/w488-h640/20240109_173533_1704840120736.png" width="488" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipVJMzeBimj9RinedsEK-CB_sWMIoXpY1nLPM8LnGfXGiLvPA_wJaGuNyH0w7jED82ZiBsN43zVGqT0pqbxIJwCvFHWq-3oRgxkxorO3zi4UNP0uP11w_SOy2vcMeLjxBwWyJmoTD9Dcs1hypdNQ9FImHjkK7MpKZp5jyyUqm6EBV6TRuBEMsQ/s1640/20240109_172538.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1640" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipVJMzeBimj9RinedsEK-CB_sWMIoXpY1nLPM8LnGfXGiLvPA_wJaGuNyH0w7jED82ZiBsN43zVGqT0pqbxIJwCvFHWq-3oRgxkxorO3zi4UNP0uP11w_SOy2vcMeLjxBwWyJmoTD9Dcs1hypdNQ9FImHjkK7MpKZp5jyyUqm6EBV6TRuBEMsQ/w280-h640/20240109_172538.jpg" width="280" /></a></div><br /><p>I've used this melamine plate as a palette since we moved here in '93. I was dazzled by the Nam Dae Mun farmers market. Aisles full of food that, for the most part, I couldn't imagine eating, but the inexpensive cookware, dishes, cutlery, and gadgets were like catnip. </p><p>Today I upgraded a piece of dry wood to a walking stick. Or a shillelagh, or wizard's wand. I do very poorly with canes. Trip myself and lose them. A shoulder-high stick helps my posture and mobility. This one should also keep trolls at bay when it's finished. </p><p>I need beads and bells.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>This venture was inspired by the King of Wands.</p><p><i><span style="font-size: medium;">An inner spiritual change is often heralded when this card appears. The King of Wands invites us to act as he would to solve our problems. His vision is one of ideal reality, and his vision is that humanity might always be better than it is. He is the warrior of light who stands up for something that matters, and his appearance is an invitation for you to do so as well. If there is a cause you wish to support, but you are unsure of your position, you may proceed with the knowledge that your base of power is strong. Enjoy the King's power and authority, but be sure to use it for productive means. Take your responsibilities seriously, think of new ways to do things, and never stop believing in yourself. (J.Rioux)</span></i></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD1-FkuqbXtgUM_Oi1-HCzsP-248ClzhaphVM9UPrPQcHdc6PtTvryx5PNOkn5AWMJC4RqrUs_-oSJaqqySH7VwU1DHLMkfvkDP0v9cg1IBnqbN-Kq-5yXbFTr3B-tQMckhivPnkQ_n4DPcQWIiHhvNuYVMDIpu1t8GMCPhanUQP3uARhYA_uu/s828/KWpalladini.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="828" data-original-width="522" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD1-FkuqbXtgUM_Oi1-HCzsP-248ClzhaphVM9UPrPQcHdc6PtTvryx5PNOkn5AWMJC4RqrUs_-oSJaqqySH7VwU1DHLMkfvkDP0v9cg1IBnqbN-Kq-5yXbFTr3B-tQMckhivPnkQ_n4DPcQWIiHhvNuYVMDIpu1t8GMCPhanUQP3uARhYA_uu/w253-h400/KWpalladini.jpg" width="253" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">art by David Palladini</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <p></p>Deb Lacativahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03037530669295128974noreply@blogger.com3