Kitty don't freak out!

I was recently gifted with a set of ColorHue dyes and while skipping through the directions saw that it works on Hair!  It's been a stressful "put your feet in the stirrups and scootch down day" so a whim got indulged without any forethought. My favorite way of being creative. "Fling it on the wall and see what sticks!"   It worked at least as well as I'd hoped but I just wished I had given a leetle bit more thought about my choice of colors before I jumped in. I'm about to find out just how permanent ColorHue dyes are.  

Meanwhile, the bear project creeps forward. I've decided that his (despite the pinkness of his body) face is going to have to offer him some protection  against future indignities and damage. Think KALI. There will be lots of teeth and definitely a third eye.  here's a sample. 

stuffed animals

I never like dolls. I was certain that they were up to no good the minute you closed your eyes.  It was not tea parties and play for them. It was lose the homework, spill  soda on the carpet, or hide one sneaker. Evil doers all.

I let my two sisters fight over what few dolls I was given, including that freakish bubble-do Barbie with the plum colored lips and odd skin tone like she'd died from carbon monoxide poisoning. "Dusky" the coroner would call it.

The stuffed animals I trusted. Thinking about what I am going to do with this bear has reminded me of an old friend that I haven't thought of in years. I had to be seven when this one was as close to a horse as I would ever own. It was a mule I think, from his general proportions and demeanor. Little mean eyes, no tail - all business.  I used sewing needle to unpick a bridle that had been stitched to his head - my horses ran free!  He was not soft. Stuffed tight with dense cotton, I could swing him by the leg and give Kitty or Patty a good stiff thwack without leaving a mark!

skins

the Ikea Octopus understands indignity but remains stoic. the Bear has some kind of glitz woven in. It's stomach was cut open hastily with something sharp. I'll be there was   contraband - this is Georgia after all. The scene of the crime is mere steps from the local post office. 

Now I have to think about resurrection, reincarnation, rebirth and a witness protection program for stuffed animals.

no fiber post, almost

I have no idea idea what this shrub is but it's about the only photogenic thing around my office besides the moss gardens.

We don't have a lot of road kill here in Georgia. I mean, I'm  sure it happens as much as anyplace else where hapless critters meet careless drivers but we have a healthy population of vultures here (you do not want pictures) so bodies don't linger on the pavement at all. 

Apparently they can tell real from fake. This poor thing has been in the ditch for too many trips to the post office for me to ignore it one more time. 

Who could be so deliberately cruel. What was the story? Was he smuggling something? Did he talk?

To be continued....

A Fling Flys

"Stories In the Garden With Monkey Teeth" will be on it's way to a new home tomorrow. I took some time this morning to sign it.


"Just when I thought I was out... they pull me back in"

 Handwork,that is. Piecing and appliqueing simple, hand-dyed cotton muslin.

It doesn't get any more simple or satisfying and I'm paying close attention.

Deranged

Why do we do what we do?
I guess the title says it all today.
Back to the wish factory.

deranged

It would have been a good idea to take a better picture of this once I had finished stitching on it rather obsessively (and quite pointlessly) for over a week before I took the scissors to it at work last night.

There were a lot of elements that I really liked, that worked nicely on their own but just didn't add up to anything all told.

So I chopped it into about a dozen pieces, batting backing and all, and spent several hours shuffling things around only to find I had forgotten to bring along my pincushion

Here it is hasty  basted together in what I hope will be a more successful composition. try to hand stitch this mess back together will be too frustrating so I'm going to wake the Janome up from it's hibernation (more like neglect) and see what comes of it.

more macro

I took my camera to the office with me to continue learning it's capabilities and limits.

This is no a distant field - it's one of the moss gardens from about 3" away.

Below is an accident taken while driving.

cloth resurrection

You know you're in trouble when there's no way you can cut into the cloth you just finished making.

Backyards #1

It was "sit & stare" time last night which I have come to recognize as the STOP sign this hand stitcher.

I'll need to find something to back it, protect the exposed batting and stitching, but it's done and I'm most pleased that it's prompting a series for me at a time when I've been coming up empty.

private stash

I tried duplicating the effect of the cloth I used for the body of the trees using bleach to discharge some of the overdyes I did this weekend.

Several pieces are going straight into my private stash for future development.



Gravitating to the fine textured sacking - flour sacks probably - I find myself planning out more dreamscapes along these lines.

My old Canon A95 came back from the factory ostensibly repaired at no charge.

I say ostensibly because it came back without the honkin' huge old style memory card that I swore I left inside it. I thought they needed to see some messed up pictures to diagnose and fix the problem.

My problem is now I have no memory of removing the card and stowing it "someplace safe" ...kinda like those diamond earrings I once had (sniff). These memory lapses are nothing new for me so I'm not alarmed. Just aggravated. It'll turn up somewhere unlikely but perfectly obvious to the devious mind. It's a backup camera now so it can wait.

PS. After looking in all the likely places and quite a few unlikely ones and finding nothing, I called Canon and said "What's up with sending my camera back brainless?" They were so nice, kind and generous and will be sending me a suitable card.post haste. Squeaky wheel got greased.