Lisa Call and several other members of this ring have been provoking a serious line of consideration. I've been following this line of thought and am wondering if what people actually mean is a large "cohesive" body of work - I've only been calling myself a fiber artist since 2001 and I have a LOT of work, TOO much work that looks as if it's been created by a squadron of artists, some good, some who should be horsewhipped outta town and several talented chimps. I'm not inclined to try the latest product, gadget or technique. I have given up trying to bead things because I spend more time picking all the beads off. Ask Janet Thompson and she'll tell you how I refuse to learn curved piecing, foiling or using the bleach pen she gave me or how I keep shying away from fusing altogether. I just don't get the personal satisfaction in the results of those techniques that I get from doing the things that make my fingers and eyes happy but I do get the big thrill out of following my nose on any given day and letting the fibers do what they will. The results are more than a little scattered. Right now I am caught up in the middle of "riding the 3D tiger", to quote Susan Else, and working out a series of very large pieces that I hope are going to be the key pieces in my Large Body of Big Deals. But do I really want to do that? Do I want people to be able to look at a piece and say, unequivocally, that's a Lacativa. Maybe only if they are pulling our their checkbook as they are saying it? Hmmmm... And now, after dashing off Autopilot, there is a large, empty canvas that's been sitting on my beautiful, forgotten, dusty easel that keeps hissing to me each time I close the door to the studio as if I have to hide what's on my mind for it. I think the trick is running amok for your own sake but then having your Sunday Suit of Big Deals more accessible to the public - you know, the ones that made you go "Ah-ha! and Yessss!" the moment you stepped back from the design wall and even after you sewed on the sleeve - and maybe letting the chimp's work go cheap or get donated somewhere anonymously.

More Guts and Voodoo

The Intestines are mostly done but I want to use more of that iridescent sheer stuff but I guess I will have to track some down and actually buy more. And here is a rare photo of Voodoo voicing his opinion.

Not a Quilt

...at least not according to the rules I've seen from time to time. It's a full-on, no nonsense collage. While I was discharging some hand-dyes last night I was bemoaning the fact that stuff always looks more vibrant when it's still wet. What could I do to keep things looking wet? Why, mummify them with acrylic gel of course. I had a jar of goo on hand, some blank canvas and a jug of flibbertygibbets (fabric snips too small and wonderful to throw away) so while the morning news spewed it's lunacy, I got creative. I love the way you can shape the fabric to your will once it's wet with the goo and then nail things in place with a flick of the brush. No pins, no needle, no thread. Something's happening here. What it is ain't exactly clear. Autopilot 10x10 fabric collage

New Work from Old Mistakes

The repeating circles are a theme I don't even try to escape. I can make them with the rhythm of my heartbeat until there is no more room on the page but I will let you in on a little secret...It's not about the circles at all but the spaces they bound and protect. Things are getting back to normal in the studio - as normal as they ever were. Sad pieces of icky hand dyes destined to be backsides are saved from ignominy by a flurry of discharging complete with a spin in my new microwave. And YES! I even bought some antichlor. I cross my fingers and splash it on the finished pieces like holy water hoping that I haven't paid 1.79 for a bottle of ditchwater. These two pieces are cleverly disguising the huge pile of folded and basketed fabric I relocated from the cutting table so I could get a better look at what the lizard was up to. You can see by the things hanging and lurking about my studio that I have been making 3D fiber things for a long time. I have had that clutch of blue nylon snakes for about ten years now. What was I thinking?

the Whole Cloth

Here's a view from the floor where I am doing my home made physical therapy. I can't get the colors quite right in this room. There's a lot of blue bouncing around in here and my camera doesn't like it. Mandi wanted to know HOW. The top panel is one of my top secret tube dyes and the bottom one was dyed in a mason jar and batched overnight. I sewed the two panels together and then handpainted the circles using metallic acrylic paints. I will heatset this from the backside but, since I don't have any plans of washing it, I won't worry about that too much. There will be a LOT of what I call super-garnet machine stitching and some hand appliqed pieces too.

After a Bad Start in the Night...

My husband left for work at 4:30 this morning only to come back into the house to let us all know that Nikki's car had been broken into. Although the car was parked on the street right under a streetlight, they broke the trunk lock and stole the expensive stereo system that Jake has been installing one piece at a time. You know, the obnoxious kind everyone loves to hate. I must say that I have never heard them coming down the street - being young and in love, they still have much to say and share with each other. I was only grateful that the thieves didn't take the whole car. Tonight I want to put a folded note on the mailbox with this message "TO THE THIEVES...here is a number you can call about the vaccine you will need within two days. We thought you might be coming so we left a little something on the amp and speakers you stole. " and then I will add the number of the local police department. Wonder if I will get arrested for domestic terrorism? So the bad night became a good day. For some reason I woke up with someone else's back - one that didn't moan and groan over every little movement. My house has been neglected since the holidays so I focused on one filthy corner of my kitchen and scrubbed everything I could reach from high up on the cabinets to the floor. That and a few loads of laundry made me feel like a productive human again. Soon the sun was streaming into my studio so I went in there to see what new cobwebs had grown. One of my denim jackets was fresh from the wash so I took a moment to organize something to cover a corporate logo over the breast pocket. Some of that vintage damask that I dyed last summer - Then I started looking around for something else to get into and found two large pieces of hand dyed cotton cavorting on the floor. They were so great looking together I took them to the design wall, turned them this way and that and discovered my next large piece well under way. It was a great day to break out into the outdoor studio and get some painting done.I have been craving to do more like this since I put the sleeve on "Rubric" back in the fall.

Ongoing "inner" meditations

Bet you can't guess what this is going to be. One of the reasons I am building these parts by hand is that my husband and son are working some very peculiar hours so that when I get home from my job, I have to creep around and generally respect the fact that there are two very tired people sleeping in the house. Banging around, playing music and running the sewing machine in my studio are out of the question. I filled my porto-studio basket with a selection of fabric, thread and tools and work in the living room. On a different note, I am thinking about having a SALE on older work to fund my annual fiber education week. When the new Arrowmont catalog came last week I was so excited to find that Emily Richardson was offering a class this summer I started getting hives thinking about ways to come up with the money I need to attend. The first thing that occurred to me was YARD SALE! Then I quickly pared that back to Virtual Yard Sale. Stay tuned.If you have ever craved a Lacativa original, you might be in luck. I need to make room for the new so the old has to GO...I sound like a car dealer.

Liver

The spleen eluded me but I seem to have a lot of preconceived notions about the size and shape of livers.

Guts Update

Here is the finished Imaginary Heart from the Uninformed Guts series. I am going to have to learn to take better pictures of 3D fiber work. another view:

Guts - Part One

Yesterday, Jan Thompson and I terrorized the freeways of Atlanta (Jan pilots a Corvette) threading our way through Spaghetti Junction with the talking navigator guiding the way. We arrived alive at Jan Girod's new shop, Fiber on a Whim, a new "inspiration" store for fiber artists carrying enough unique and wonderful goodies to keep me goggling all morning. After gorging ourselves on thread, cloth, paint and books, we went the Cheesecake Factory in Buckhead and ate like Romans. All this and a copy of Surface Design Journal. My senses were properly overloaded. After I got home and polished off my Key Lime Cheesecake, I settled in with the handwork basket, a few cats, the TV remote, the phone and started work on this piece. I can't imagine a better way to use a rainy day. Inspired by Arlee's heart research and the new rayon threads I bought just yesterday at Fiber On a Whim. When I followed the links that were posted on the QA list I just took a quick glance at one black and white illustration and decided I would rather go with what I thought I knew about biology. I took AP biology back in the stone age and we dissected a horse heart and of course I am a graduate of the NBC-ER School of Medicine. I know the plumbing on this one is purely made up but it was fun to do. Lots more stitching is planned. Looking back through my 2D work I find more than one reference to the interiors of various creatures, like my crocheted livers and intestines. 3D seems the bigger and more interesting route to making these guts tangible.

I took the day off from the office to get my own paperwork done. It took most of the morning to do all the necessaries to get a show entry into the mail. First thing, I decided that one of the three pieces I had settled on was weak and a replacement player was jumping up and down on the bench screaming for attention. Then I had to reshoot most of the pictures, burn a CD, fill out the paperwork. And doncha know by the time I got to the post office half the town was there on their lunchbreak all stamping their feet and aggravating the staff with general impatience. I swear I am going to move to Montana. In my haste, I wound up mailing the entry to the gallery instead of the Country Quilter in Somers where it was supposed to go. A quick email to Jane Davila assured me that I wasn't the only one to make this mistake and the gallery was on the lookout for strays like mine. -3 points for haste. I am excited about entering SPUN because it's being held at a gallery in the town where I grew up, Katonah, New York. If I get a piece into this show, I will want my whole name up on the little card. Someone just might know who Deborah Useted Lacativa is. "Get Out of the Water" is a wierd little experiment along lines that I am going to pursue again. You can't tell from the photo but it's amost an inch thick. I folded and layered a largish piece of cheepo hi-loft polyester batting and stitched it into shape with a few big loops of Nymo. Then I proceeded to mummify it with pieces of what feels like cotton lawn but is actually some cotton guaze scarves I bought and hand-dyed last year.

Southbound

Although the fat envelope won't materialize in my mailbox until next week sometime, a little email birdy told me that "Needleturning at Sunrise" has been accepted into "Considering Quilts '06" at the Atlantic Center for the Arts in Florida. Now all I have to do is figure out how to mount or display the little thing. It's only about 14"x11" and I have never had a piece this small on display. Somehow, sleeves and rods don't seem to be the thing. Time to ask some experts.

More Humbuggery

Although I love spontaneous tokens of affection, my Goodman knows that given a choice, I would be happier to get a good tool than a bunch of roses. This year he gave me both. The new laser level to replace the one stolen off his job will come in handy if I ever get back to making anything bigger than my cutting mat. I bought these for myself - the hope of Spring. I hate Valentine's day along with all the other Hallmark holidays that have insinuated themselves into Western (lackof) culture. Of course there are those of you out there who will snuffle into their sleeves and say "Sure, she was one of those kids who didn't get any Valentines at school..no wonder she doesn't like it". Nope, even way back then you could buy cheap little packs of 20 cutout cards where all you had to do was stamp your greasy pawprint on the backside and then pass them out to all of your classmates without even writing a name on the envelope, I thought it was a stupid holiday. Like most kids, I had my posse of friends, some fans and a handful of jealous enemies and suffered no social anxieties. I took no beatings and rarely had to give any. Comedy and reasoning were my shield and sword. I think I was in third grade when I told my mother I wouldn't be needing any Valentines that year. Fine with her, she had two younger aspiring social butterflies to groom and more likely candidates than I was, all scabs and attitude. I think Mom knew I was an anarchist by the time I was two and was resigned to it. So on Valentine's day we all had little paper baskets set out on our desks that we had made in Art class - Yes, ART! The Katonah Elementary had a wonderful paste-eating class, the highlight of my Monday, Wednesday and Fridays. At various points in the day, you were supposed to go around and put your cards in the baskets. I observed some kids poking through their take, counting the unopened cards they had received and groaning or gloating over how much or little they were liked by their peers. It seemed to me that almost everyone had about the same little heap of cheesy envelopes. One kid had obviously made her valentines, cutting and pasting the red paper and heart-shaped doilies, one for each and every person in the class and all with a wallet sized picture of Her Grace glued in the middle. An aspiring class president, no doubt. About five minutes before the bell we were allowed to get our coats, speak to the teacher, copy assignments from the board and generally mill around. I took the opportunity to surreptitiously take the pile of cards from my basket, stuff it deep into my desk and go around the room and redistribute the cards I had received. Kids looked at me and beamed. I snuck Miss PhotoThing's card into the teachers In Box no doubt stamping her an asskisser from that day on. I can remember being happy that folks were so easily amused.

Wonderful Distraction

At the office where I work part time, new books on every creative endeavor you can imagine arrive daily. I got into the habit of averting my eyes when I passed through the nook where the Book Mistress presides over the stacks but the other day I was captivated by this cover. The book is "Beyond the Basics - Gourd Art" by David Macfarlane and is filled with one jewel of creation after another. This cover photo is a piece by Artist Mari Mickler Moss. I have long been looking for an excuse to cultivate something more useful than crabgrass in my front yard. It's the only place on my property that gets enough sun to grow vegetables and since there are no rules or covenants in this old neighborhood about what you can grow in plain view of the world, I think I am going to plow all that miserable grass under and take full advantage of the rising damp from the elderly septic fields that must compete with an underground spring that courses through the yard. My lawn stays green and demanding all summer long while my neighbors either water or live with crispy brown crewcut lawns that crunch when you walk on them. Why not grow some potential art instead? Anyone want to buy a slightly used lawn mower?

Woman Expelled from Clown College

At the very least, I had a paintbrush in my hand this morning.

A New Tool and Words as Can Openers

I read more than a few blogs lately where the author is bemoaning the fact that they labored long and hard over a post only to have it snatched away into the ether. If you are a Firefox devotee you may be interested in this little tidbit that I stumbled across the other day - Performancing for Firefox is a slick little download that lets you blog offline and then publish to wherever. I haven't played with it long enough to discover all the fun but under "settings" on the left side is "Save Editor Contents on Closing". That's more than Blogger ever did for me. And for those of you who don't get Danny Gregory's newsletter, this line from the person who translated his book into Korean. After reading it, I closed my laptop, put my head down on the lid and wept with my eyes wide open. "....Maybe it wasn't such a big disaster for other people, but I was very shocked by that experience, and was living with an empty heart, thinking how should I live from now on, everyday, every minute..." Living with an empty heart. Living with an empty heart. Living with an empty heart. It still has a beat. And don't Sonji's new magic carpets just lift your spirits?

I deserve this

Thanks Crazy Aunt Purl
LIBRA (Sept. 23 - Oct. 23)
I'm so jealous! All the planets are lining up for Libras this month, first, there's Mars Moving into your Hot Mama house, and ya'll have a full moon in your Shiny Happy House and Venus is un-retrograding just in time to hang out in your house of Big Pimpin' ... now that's Astrology Gone Right. Go ahead and indulge in that post V-day red velvet heart full of chocolates. Feel smug. Your hard work last month is beginning to pay off, and the rewards are part of the goal!

How many website make you laugh out loud?

From one of my oldest favorite websites "the Word Detective" "Amuck" Dear Mr. Morris: A magazine article I read recently described a babysitter as being unfit because she allowed the children in her care to "run amuck," which immediately made me wonder about that phrase. Any clues? -- Doris Sherman, Toledo, OH. Do you mean "any clues to where the children went"? I'd check the coat closet, personally. If they're not there, they're probably in the cupboard under the kitchen sink. I used to be very good at eluding my babysitter for hours at a time, or at least until she forgot about my feeding an entire jar of grape jam to the dog. Of course, the dog usually reminded her later in the evening anyway. I think the reason I don't remember any of my babysitters very clearly is probably that I met each of them only once. Still, as trying as I may have been to my babysitters, I never actually "ran amuck" in the original sense, and I doubt that the children in that magazine article did, either. "Amuck," more properly spelled "amok," comes from the Malay word "amoq," meaning "a state of murderous frenzy." In English, the word "amok" dates back to the 16th century and the first contacts between Europeans and the Malay inhabitants. The standard story of the word is that the Malays were "susceptible to bouts of depression and drug use," which then led them to engage in murderous rampages, wherein anyone in the path of the person "running amok" was likely to be sliced and diced with a native sword known as a "kris." One need not be overly politically-correct to suspect that accounts of the phenomenon by Europeans may have been somewhat melodramatic and culturally biased, but the word entered English with the same general meaning, that of "murderous frenzy." As is often the case, however, the meaning of the phrase was diluted as "running amok" became a metaphor in English for someone who was simply "out of control" in some respect, and not necessarily chopping folks up. Still, you'll never catch me babysitting. And from some angel on the QA list, this link which I am wallowing in at the moment: Radio Paradise

Flogging the Art Bunny

I hear tell that's what you must do when you are in a funk. Of course there is the tried and true studio cleaning but screw that. I have been picking at that notion a little at a time since early January. Oh sure, there is some order, and surfaces have swum into view but nothing has gone up on my design wall in a long time. Last night I went to the Signature Shop Gallery in Buckhead, the heart of the "happening" part of Atlanta (depending on who you talk to, of course) to see new works by Elizabeth Barton and Juliarose Lofredo. The contrast between JL's simmering minimalism and EB's energetic textures and colors made for an interesting show. I wish I had remembered my camera but there's just nothing like seeing fiber art in person. Both of these artists use miles and miles of hand stitching in their work which just draws you in close and you had better clench your teeth or your jaw will hang open.There should be a sign up that says "NO DROOLING ON THE ART". The only fiber art classes I have ever take have been with Elizabeth Barton, a great teacher and charming lady with a dry wit and down to earth approach to art and things in general. _________________________________________ (37.5 x 26.5) I have never done any whole cloth work but I was inspired by the show to dig out a piece of cotton sateen from one of last years dye sessions. It came out so spectacular that I have never had the heart to hack into it. Now I have sandwiched it in preparation at my attempt at a stitching a wholecloth piece. My problem is this - I don't know what I want to do with the stitching. I have been absorbed with picking out the wonderful little accidental elements that come out of this type of dye technique like these: My inclination is to use stitching to point these elements out and somehow relate them to one another. I plan on using cotton floss for the first time since I embroidered my bell bottoms so that's going to be interesting. I anticipate a lot of false starts. Oh well, I have been hungering for some hand work. Any opinions?

Speaking of Wayback Machines

Sister Patty sent me some fun... The No. 1 song on your 18th birthday is said to be your life's theme song. Go to this link, type in your month, day and year of your 18TH BIRTHDAY and hopefully it explains as much for you as it did for me. Don't type in your date of birth, as it requests, instead type in the date of your 18th birthday. Mine was "The Letter" by the Boxtops

The Sibs

DebR's post du jour with all the oldies put me in a way-back frame of mind and when you don't have anything to post about what art you are up to, resorting to pet and old baby pictures is always a safe bet. Yep, the big one is me, six or seven, the Ringleader and if sh*t happened.. it was all my fault. To my left, Kitty. How do you like them prison haircuts? I think it was the following year that Mom took Kitty and I to Macy's in White Plains (Where Santa Claus lived in the off season!) to a so-called specialist in children's haircuts. I will never forget how he sawed our braids off at the root without even undoing them. Mine, fat and stubby, Kitty's long and thin. My mother cried as she picked them up and wrapped rubber bands around the cut ends. The fiend gave us the popular Pixie haircut. My hair grew straight out from my head. With those giant teeth I looked more like a half-grown lion cub than a Pixie. These days Kitty is still the dashing professional. How many of you can say you have a following? Next to her is baby sister Patty, a single, two-job working Mom to a teenage daughter, but don't pity her, she's so good at it all. Martha Stewart could eat off her floors. On my right, baby brother Robbie, my charge, which is why he grew up wild. I have one of those half-baked memories that no one will admit to. We all had harnesses with zippers in the front and leashes hooked to the back and I seem to recall being hitched like a sled dog to Robbie's stroller. Why not? We were a powerful troika. I would have done the same thing with four kids. Rob became a father for the first time two years ago this April - twin boys! He lives to see Ryder and Reno conquer the world, all the while living with my parents and being their main care-giver - not that they would ever admit to needing one. The babies light up their lives. Right now my Mom is in the hospital undergoing a battery of tests before surgery. She has been in poor health most of her life and has outlived all of her friends, three of whom passed just last year, and most of her family. Eight hundred miles away, I am holding my breath too often these days.

the Zombies efforts

"E's not dead, just stunned" -Monty Python Here's evidence that I have not shuffled off this mortal coil - about one tenth of my stash folded and sorted by color...and then adorned with Cat Ass. Still no shelves to contain them so these stacks will probably go into right back into the plastic boxes.Deep in the night for the past week, I might have wished for that shuffle in my coma-dreams. There was little sleep. I injured my back last week in a very stupid manner.

For those of you who know about Yoga, I actually fell asleep in a fat woman's variation of the Child's Pose. You know, knees a-spraddle, belly dragging on the mattress and head cradled on folded arms as I listened to the music from the "Breathe" yoga show on TV. The Dr. heckled me for stretching my sciatic nerve (let's hope she's right) and then went on to prescribe some Hillbilly Heroin for me. I took one dose, spent two hours scratching madly, giggled inappropriately at the TV, goaded the sleeping cats into play, and to frost the cake, took out markers and started coloring in the dark. About two in the morning, my GoodMan rolled over and told me he was planning on smothering me with a pillow if I didn't settle down. The pain never left, I just didn't care. No more O. for me.

When not feeling too totally crappy, I have resumed machine quilting this un-named project I started last summer at Elizabeth Barton's studio. And no jokes about a dildo farm. This piece is quite large and I really didn't notice all things being at arm's length and all.

Head cold Redux

If boogers were gold, I could really retire. Did this cold ever really go away? My head feels like it's full of wet cement. I'm down to Alka-Selter for Colds mixed in Gallo Hearty Burgundy. Nasty but effective. In the meantime, all I can muster in the studio are more of these. I probably shouldn't be allowed to use the rotary cutter much less operate a Janome.

When in doubt, go Shopping!

Well, not doubt, just a wandering mind kind of mental inefficiency that goes along with a nagging back injury. I went to IKEA today, the big shiny new one in downtown Atlanta, a stones throw from Atlantic Station where my GoodMan is overseeing the construction of a new restaurant. I got there quite by accident - took a right instead of a left after dropping Colin off at the jobsite. The only thing I had in mind was a mini trash can for my desk at work. I came away with a whole huge bag of fun.Big enough to tote your average three year old in, they sell them for 99 cents. This silly business hangs up for drying one's unmentionables only I visualized pieces of hand dyed fabric flapping in the breeze. For 3.99, I can imagine anything I want. These are rubbery plastic ice cube trays but I could see them flipped over with paint on their cute little backsides all ready to pounce all over some fabric. And here's what IKEA is really famous for: stuff that you have to put together yourself. It took me about an hour to "build" this. Like most American households, the proper tools are never where you left them so I made this with the screwdriver on my grandmother's Boy Scout knife (it was in her sewing basket) and the wrong end of a staple hammer. I thought about glue but that would have been too much committment. Just the thing for all the miscellaneous crapola swarming all over my sewing table. Now to teach that drunken service monkey to put things away once I have finished with them. I'm sad that the second one came without it's bloody damn screws so I will have to visit the hardware store tomorrow to finish it off. I will have to mix up some sort of stain for these. Very theraputic.

contest

Prizes if you can guess the city/town/village that match my former locations: Four Places You've Lived: 122 Commercial Street 10 Bank Street 15 Baker Steet 25 1/2 Dykeman Road and here's another detail shot of my CQ06 entry:

Finished!

Here's just a peek at my entry for Considering Quilts 2006 and since the big computer downstairs seems to have suffered a power supply failure (a least I hope that's all it is) I will have to have the disc burned at Kinkos tomorrow and get it in the mail a mere One Day before the deadline. Next on the agenda - a couple of miles of machine quilting on a few major UFOs with lots of promise. And coming up fast, choosing a few little somethings for SPUN

I have been memetagged.....

By Debra Roby of the infamous AQRing Debs, and me with my shots out of date. It's the 4 Things Thing. Getting tagged is something like getting an eartag, the painful indignity inflicted on animals by people insisting on knowing where they are and what they have been up to and not unlike the alien anal probe. I was going to plead early onset Alzheimers and skip it but I had a vague notion that not meme-ing when tagged rates up there with farting in church and using your fish fork to scratch between your shoulder blades. I was also tempted to lie wildly but the truth is out there now. Four Jobs You've Had: Domestic Engineer (the Paid kind),Phone Slut,Proofreader, Computer Network Security Administrator Four Movies You Watch: Shakespeare In Love, You've Got Mail, Jaws, The Natural Four Places You've Lived: 122 Commercial Street, 10 Bank Street, 15 Baker Steet,25 1/2 Dykeman Road Four TV Shows you Watch: Law & Order, West Wing, Deadwood, The Gems Rotating on the Lazy Susan Show Four Places You've Been on Vacation: Panama City, FL, Hyannis, MA, Savannah, GA, Naragansett, RI Four Websites You Visit Every Day: NYTimes, CraigsList ATL, TheStreet, Refdesk Four Of Your Favorite Foods: Bing Cherries, Fried Clams, Key Lime Pie, Apple Cider Four Places You'd Rather Be: any beach, any sailboat, any frozen lake at night, any jurybox Four (real)Albums You Can't Live Without: Rubber Soul - Beatles, The Essential Artie Shaw, Hell Freezes Over - Eagles, Fumbling Towards Ecstasy -- Sarah McLachlan Four People You'll Pass This On To: Let's surprise them.

First DyeFest of '06

Well, there's nothing like a tidy crop of hand dyes to get the creative year started. I think there was something seriously wrong with the black though. I used a lot of it - I was in a broody mood- and looks like 99% of it left town in the rinse cycle. Anna! Do recognize any of these pieces? Can't wait to be hacking them up but that project is in a conga line of other patiently waiting it's turn. My UFOs are giving me nightmares so in self defense I am tending to those first for while.

unpacking (still)

Did you ever find yourself on the brink of change and the whizzing of it all leaves you just exhausted and empty? Deadlines, decisions and distant dread. There was a time when I had this much time on my hands. While the cicadas are chewing the air with their threats and the sweat rolls sweet, I think "All that is not given is lost" and wished that you could have seen how the flecks of gold stuck to my skin when the sand gave up and fell away.

Tornado Watch

OK.OK. So I looked up a bunch of lo-carb recipes and made a shopping list but I thought I would wait until the sky stopped being greenish-black before venturing out. Wonderful Winter in Georgia. Since we are under a flood warning with tornados for dessert, I though I would wile away an hour with an ER rerun and a game of solitaire with real cards! I got all the way to the end of a winning hand and found the six of hearts to be missing. "The Six of Cups (Hearts) is the only one in the Tarot that refers explicitly to the past, and of memories and good times experienced there. After losses such as those on the Five we sometimes have to take a time out to heal, to look back on the past and all the good that lies there. And during such times it's never the right thing to focus on the negative, and that's why this card is so positive and full of light. The fallen cups are now full and upright again, but with blooming flowers that cannot be spilled or washed away. Now that you have looked back, maybe now the way will be clear to look forward." What an opportunity for further honing my skill! My procrastination skills, that is. Here's all of what Tarot Master, James Rioux has to say about the six of cups and so I am properly chastened about not taking the time yesterday to reflect on the passing of 2005.

Happy New Year!

After reading everyone else's deepest thoughts on resolutions, I thought I would take a stab at it myself. Here is the Unvarnished Truth. And for those who need the warning, I have decided that Politically Correct postures will give you hemorrhoids. I decided to spend the day honoring Procrastination instead of denying her. My studio looks like Katrina paid a visit so I knew it was going to be a long day. My calls to FEMA have gone unanswered. The backdrop of my efforts today, A "Law & Order" marathon. Tomorrow, the bar exam. Before I could even get dressed I was finding ways to delay. I have several identical Wrangler denim workshirts, sized 4X, men's 4X. I wish they looked as huge on me as they should. I use them interchangeably as smocks, bathrobes, and my version of the Dixie Mink but I was getting quite sick of the corporate logo hovering over the breast pocket so I decided a little quick machine applique on one of them could cure my wardrobe blues. Now I look like a refuge from the Pyromaniacs Union.At least now I can tell which one to wear in the studio. Next on my to-do list, Breakfast. Two microwaved meatballs (in homemade 'sketi sauce) on a whole wheat roll (health food!), half a glass of OJ and two cups of coffee. Then fully dressed and fueled up, I jump on the bathroom scale - none of these "naked post-evacuation" weigh-ins for me. The awful truth lurked between my toes. At the very least I will break a sweat today. I filled several coffin-sized plastic tubs with fabric, vacuumed the nap off the carpet rather than pick up bent pins and decided a break was in order. More creativity! I really needed to finish this crocheted hat that I started last night. Wasn't Dick Clark scary? The Big Peach was out of sync with the big Apple while my neighbors treated me to fireworks and semi-automatic gunfire. Yee-haw Amigos! It's dark now. The first new day of 2006 is circling the bowl and I am quite satisfied with the proceeds of the day. No resolutions but some truth, farting around, sweat, a glimmer of order and whiffs of the promise of tomorrow.