love, always

rounds

A different kind of orb.
I've started to cut away small portholes in that vast sea of green.

Sometimes there's something good underneath, sometimes not. Then I have to fiddle something into the hole.

The messages are falling into place: my characters are speaking to each other again and I am eavesdropping and making notes.

full and frosty

After yesterday's wind and rain, the temps fell. And fell.

It snowed on and off all day. Just enough to make your eyes dart around. Nothing stuck of course. Snow always gives me homesick, Christmas feels.

My tarot cards will get a waltz with the moon later.

No fear

It's interesting how some people seem to be afraid of secret messages. Rest assured, if I have something important to add to the conversation, I will stoop to crude language at a third grade level to accommodate those who need it.

 In the meantime, I watch my country try to eat itself alive . Notice the word "try".

I believe that the oppressors will choke to death on their own agenda because there are far too many good people who oppose the self-serving ugliness of the current administration.  Those who support that evil agenda will forever bear the stain of their fear and greed. We see you.

What to do? Only what one person can, one moment to the next. Be kind. Vote. Keep your knives sharp.

partial fresh starts

Just a scrap from the floor while I was rummaging through a pile of finished pieces. Still wanting to take some to the copy place to make prints.

Just a scrap but it has magic.

It was so warm out today. If I had believed the weather report and planned for it, I could have dyed thread!

As it is, I'm going to be pilfering from my inventory tomorrow for whatever greens I can find.
The work in progress is needing a lot of green.

And thrilled to have finally found my six-inch maple hoops. I started updating the holiday tablecloth back around Thanksgiving. It's been buried under a pile of miscellany since then.

Those starts. I was supposed to NOT watch the news today. Instead, I watched and listened to history as Adam Schiff gave his stunning summation to the senate.

I did get out and walk the back trail at Ron Reagan park. A whole seven-tenths of a mile if their signs are to be believed. Next time, I need to bring my own folding chair .

mending life

Taking charge of things that I can affect in real time.

I've donated, made calls, and will vote. Other than that, I'm  out.  Social media outrage, no matter the platform, is a waste of time. It's certainly no place to get valid information.

I know who my people are and will stay in touch.

This is one of my Dixie Minks, really no longer fit for wearing in public, but it's like a favorite cardigan. The right elbow was worn through and there was a "lose your glasses" hole in the chest pocket. Fixing it up was time well spent today. Worthy.

catching up the week

Shocked? Don't be. I won't have a gun in the house for a lot of reasons, but it's good to know that I can use this tool should the situation arise. The bullets were expensive and look like jewelry. Crows would steal them.

This was my first time firing a real handgun and it was pretty much as I expected. Noisy, even with ear protection, and pretty quickly, boring. You can't see it in this image, but I got him in the carrot. That is a dead snowman. I have half a box of bullets left over.

I asked for a .45, which is rather large, but I have big hands, and this was the gun I used in a scene in my book. I also needed to know if it could accidentally discharge if dropped and had that confirmed by a very knowledgeable person.

I think I know why fake gangstas hold their guns sideways. They have no intention of shooting anyone, just making a lot of noise.

This morning I was reminded of the magic of making reprographs of finished work. Maybe a trip to Fedex/Kinkos over the weekend to make some prints from new work.

Note to self - do not forget masking tape for removal of cat hair, etc. This method is SO unforgiving of the messy life of a studio.

And (drum roll, please) my editor finished reading my manuscript and I couldn't be more encouraged to go forward as a self-publisher.

There is still so much to do. I have to convince myself that production and marketing are as absorbing and interesting as writing.

Tall tale in progress.

stitching here and thinking elsewhere

 This piece is evolving around the theme of secret messages. Evolving because I am winging every bit of it. Even the basted substrate cloth has been cut away and shifted as I stitch.
 
To let you in on those secret messages, all of this stitch activity is, for me, a very useful misdirection of brain activity. Others may meditate while stitching, but while my hands and eyes are busy making second by second choices at the warp and weft level, my mind is gathering up the threads of a book I'm working on.
 
One of the devices in the story is a young child who has been taught embroidery to keep her busy and out of the adult's hair. There are strong paranormal and magical elements in the story; irascible ghosts, talking animals, demons walking around in everyday bodies, people possessed by evil. Evil itself writ large and loud, a pillar of his community.
   
The child takes it upon herself to help the afflicted by stitching hidden messages in clothing stolen from clotheslines by her familiar, a cigar-smoking Barbary Ape named Ace.
 
The messages? Simple, childish directives like "sleep good" or "be nicer" go unnoticed until she steps up her game to stronger messages and bigger magic comes into play.  The working title is "The Monkeytown Murders".

It's tough switching between editing one book and writing the next one. Needle and thread are helping me find the way.

Monday derailed

There was no school for MLK day, so Charlie and I made plans.

Plans that were quickly derailed when I heard a funny noise as we pulled away from McD's with breakfast. Fortunately, the flat tire found us in the parking lot and not whizzing down the highway.

Clear and cold outside, I felt full of myself and decided I could still change a tire. What did I tell you, Grace? Get them to manually tighten the lug nuts? Did I follow my own advice? NOT. 
With all of my might, I could not crack any of them. We called Jake, he came and rescued us, and Charlie got a lesson from the guy who matters most.

While we waited for his dad to arrive, Charlie worked on his backseat journal, asking me how to spell this and that. FACTORY.  He printed the letters, frowned, and said, "That can't be right. Are you sure?"

wheels work

And so today, I presented Jumping Jack Flash at Discount tire. Made myself comfy in their immaculate waiting area. Sunlight streaming in. I was ready for a long wait. Blessed silence! For once a public waiting area with no TV.

Several men wandering around, too engrossed in their phones to sit. They looked at what I was doing like it was somehow suspect, not approaching, but obliquely curious. Time flew and the work was done.  I was off to an oil change, then shopping. By the time I got home, all I wanted was a solid nap.

Someone else decided that twenty minutes was plenty.