Saturday, September 28, 2013

gratitude

There was no clean out or restocking because this UFO reminded me that all its piece parts are still in the river basket. It was a good day to remind my fingers what they are all about for a little while. No housework on Saturday is my new rule.

There was my goodmans good company,  bright sunshine, cool breezes through the house, and manicotti and meatballs baking in the oven (cooking is not housework).
 Did I mention a gift of pumpkin cupcakes iced with cream cheese frosting and an invite to work with gouache for the first time? Thanks Crystal.

Right now, there's a sage & citrus candle burning in the studio and the Braves on TV in a short while. Life is good and I am grateful.


Friday, September 27, 2013

the comfort of the grid

The intention was to use these small canvases from HL for mounting stitched pieces but there's been nothing from the needle and thread department lately. It's very quiet in the river grass basket which really needs a good seasonal clean out and restocking.

On whim I decided to see how the various water color crayons would take to the canvas.  Nicely, as it turned out. Intense, vibrant. I'll seal this one with a clear matte acrylic later today.

The grid has made me think about pulling the commercial prints out of the closet and maybe starting something blanket-ish. Whats being called these day a Modern Quilt.


Tuesday, September 24, 2013

the comfort of doing

After a whirlwind morning of a  clinic visit, shopping and cooking, the cool damp weather made for great napping.

I wanted to be doing something with my hands but had no brain driving that train so I took the crochet basket off the shelf and cranked out two of these while we watched a little mindless TV. Sylvester Stallone should leave it alone.

I made sets of these cotton string pot holders or dish scrubbers for myself years ago and still have them. Like 20 years ago.




The vampires were happy with Jim's vintage today which made all of us happy.


Sunday, September 22, 2013

sighs, whispers and echoes

As predicted all that flash washed away leaving these shadows of themselves.

You can get a close up look here

Each of these pieces is a little more than a foot square so I'm going to tear each one in two and then make some small sets that include a range of colors over six pieces.

Smaller than my usual cloth burritos but full of potential for hand stitchers, each bundle is magic $13.00 which includes first class postage in the US.

Here's an example of what each set will be like:

Saturday, September 21, 2013

A stitching day?

After what feels like weeks of blessedly perfect weather the sky has clouded over and two days of on/off rain has been predicted for the area. Sorry for the folks going to Music Midtown  but the plants and animals seem to be holding their collective breath in anticipation of a good bath and a deep, clean drink.

The river basket is calling me and there will be some time for stitching I hope.

I have been putting off cleaning up the dye deck but I may do what I can with it between the showers.

My tradition of visiting Elizabeth Bartons studio so we can use up each others spent dyestock may have to be put on hold until next fall so I may dig some un-dyed cloth and put it into my tired colors knowing that the results are going to be sighs,  whispers and echoes.  But that's ok, they will all be beautiful.

 I need to do some shop keeping - the cupboards are bare - so whatever comes from the dyedeck this weekend will be available soon over at Random Acts of Dyeness.




All this activity is predicated on what I'm finding is a post chemo pattern in Jim's treatment. This weekend he will be in a resting phase which somehow translates into less anxiety for me even if there's a little more steppin' and fetchin'. 

I think I've recognized that I was born into service in many past lives. This would account for my affinity for the staff of Downton Abbey as opposed to the upstairs folk who seem to spend all their time fretting about how things appear to others. The staff knows in their hearts that the work of their hands matter, to whom or why is not something they dwell on. It's the doing of the thing with pride that gives them a deep sense of purpose.