Like fireworks

 

Yes, they are and just as ephemeral. 

I doubt I'll be making any more because wet rayon does not like being handled underwater. The final steps of my dye process - removing the carrier and excess dyes - took forever. Worse, my hands hurt. 

I worked this little sample on a very open weave piece of linen. The two strands cannot be separated and even resist the point of the needle. These are all flying to new homes.

Some new sets of the old faithful cotton are up in the store. Patience. There are many more. It may be a while before another dye session. That's how life is working out. All or nothing.

There are storms predicted this afternoon. We need the rain badly. I need the thunder. And to put away stitch and cloth for a while and let the words take me away from this moment. I imagine some of us would like to take up heavy drinking or something like it. 

When I read about those little sisters swept away with their hands locked together, I cried. And I hoped that their fairytale Jesus helped them not be so afraid. Take solace however you can. 

As facts filter in around propaganda bullshit, I'm thinking that a lot of people who live in the Hill Country are waking up to the realization that they have been had. Most brutally. Most tragically. 

Hate and fear are exhausting. May those who wallow in it be consumed by it. 

One of my characters is leaning into dark magic. Even for the purpose of justice, there's a heavy price to pay. 

The two strand twist

This rayon labeled Earth Guild  (from who knows when) is very pesky at the cleanup phase. I'll have to rethink my process if I want to do much more of them. Still, it works up in an interesting way.

There was no threading my favorite needle with this fat fuzzy worm, so I dug a crewel needle out of the roll.  A single strand. 

And I made the conscious challenge of stitching the letters without any guides to see how well I could hold the line. Seeing the letters that aren't there. Knowing them with my eyes closed.

 Help is all I can do.

I just emailed Earth Guild in Asheville to see what sort of cotton threads they carry. See what other kind of trouble I can get up to with dye. Don't tell DMC I'm cheating.

 

I take pictures of myself to remind me of me. 

I'm here.

Do you? 

And here are my tools. Everything in two small bags. One for stitching. One for writing. I haul them with me whenever I'm going to be away from home for more than a few hours. You just never know. 

I need one of those old-fashioned yokes. They weigh about the same.

Tomorrow I'll start getting these into the store.

Another scorcher

 There was a handful of skeins from the Blues batch that needed another chance at glory. Over dyeing is part mystery and part chance. My favorite stuff.

I'm fairly certain this cone of silk and cotton twist was a gift that came all the way from Australia.

All I had to do was look inside the cone. Not so exotic after all. A tiny label reads: Rayon 8/2, Natural... all the way from Earth Guild in Asheville NC. 800-3278448. I have no idea how I came by it.

It sucked up the dye like a vampire and I brought one skein upstairs to wash out and put in the hanging dryer. Tomorrow, we'll see if it liked my process.

The table mopper is going to be fabulous if it hangs on to even half the color.

In the hot zone

The colors were leaning murky, but hot. I didn't use any black this time out. Deep Space standing in for the darkness.

I'm really looking forward to seeing how these two large pieces of linen turn out. 

There was no thunderstorm to help me finish. I'll have these in the store by midweek.

 

Me, icing down because, even with a hat and neck cooler, I got a bit poached. I'll sleep well tonight.

I just remembered a dozen skeins of cotton/silk that were supposed to be cooked today.

Tomorrow, with some overdyeing!

Pressing on

 

I ignored the 4th as best I could. 

My block and neighborhood were quieter than in years past, but the People Through the Trees (as I will now call them) seemed to have lost their damn minds. If there was something to see, I would appreciate it, to a point. There's never anything to see, just hours of noise. I wanted to know what they were celebrating, but I'll wait until the Leopards Eat Their Faces to ask.

I am tempted to start believing in hell because so many deserve to go there.

We are parched here. Later, I'll drag another jug of water up to the grove. 

The day dawned blazing, demanding I get off my ass and conjure up some colors. After a little stalling, I fell into the rhythm of it. But the colors...I won't know until tomorrow, of course. 

Thanks for this, Liz.  Too much for a tattoo, but I'm tempted to find music for it.

Do not forget gratitude. Work to make it shareable.

Rarified

Teachers do not make enough money. I kept running out of ways to keep him focused on math. 

But there was so much to discuss. The latest developments in the Marvel Universe. All things about living with a cat. A sometimes too-challenging video gane that signals when he"s tired. 

I try to keep a light tread over current affairs. Shared horror giggles over Eau de Shitweasel.   I remind him that these are adult concerns - his job is to be a child a while longer. Kindness and doing your best is all we should ask. Charlie delivers.

 Unfortunately, I let him know that my math game has been weak since the third grade. I barely got by. He's fast approaching the edge of my number comfort zone. When they start slinging fractions around I'll be in trouble.

I'm good with time, money, percentages, and practical geometry, but the mechanics of naked arithmetic seemed greased to me. Except word problems. 

He gets better with each practice. 

I got heartburn dividing three digits by two digits. 

This fur snake was not having me stitching. We are frozen here- me daring to draw a threaded needle through the cloth, she waiting to pounce on my move. Until she climbs into her tower for a kitten nap and I have ten or so minutes to work. 

A late turn

...of the summer wheel. Somehow, I missed Solstice.

I usually don't pull two cards for the Choice position. Up to now, it's been an "either or not" situation. This morning, I wanted to expand on the notion. "Why choose?" is a nice option - wiggle room for a storyteller. 

Pretty clear that this one is for me. 

I'm packing to spend a week with Charlie and plan on bringing stuff with me this time. Stuff to keep me OFF THE PHONE. 

Stitching, thread to prep, cloth, my Tarot, a good book or two, and the big laptop where the writing happens. 

The last week I was there, I went nearly empty-handed and found that I needed my own tools. Cartoons and Lego don't go all that far for me anymore.

Bailey and Salem are working through missing Camilla. A neighbor kitty, Lily, has moved away with her master. I offered to take her if a post-divorce situation left her homeless. Thankfully for her, her human is steadfast in his devotion.

I will also be over there with a shovel, liberating some irises and cannas.

I haven't discussed it with anyone out loud, but I would not be averse to the Cat Universe Distribution system blessing us with a full house once I've finished my summer travels. A super catio must be a part of this. 

Once, there were four.

 

And monkeying around with machine-made, store-bought stuff is entertaining. Feels a bit like graffiti.

Housekeeping

I was taking out some trash. Long overdue.

The bodies will never be found.

 

a switch-up

 

At first, I didn't know what to make of this. Did I own it, or was I drawing for others? I never ask anything of the cards when I do Choice, Chance, and/or Change. These cards didn't fit that pattern. I was empty-headed for a minute. I need to learn to accept that state- "No Clue". Then, the story told itself. 

We all have it in ourselves to pull our shit together, to come up with whatever works best for ourselves and those we care about for the best outcome. We have the power.

~O~

Finally, I got in the pool. There was a lot of work to do. Scrubbing that can only be done while you're in it. Skimming, vacuuming. Checking the hoses for leaks. I have the chemistry down to a relatively inexpensive science. Colin did a great job on a significant patch. There's a lot that can go wrong, so I remind myself that we got this pool in 1998 and that nothing lasts forever. Savor it.

But once the work was done, I climbed aboard the mighty River Rafter (complete with drink holders) and read over some of the story I've been working on. Writing still does it for me.

    It's late and I'm sore and tired. Bit off a bit too much for day one. 

A higher place

I did a worry rag out of my personal stash earlier in the year. 

Mindless stitching that resulted in a wretched mess. 

This morning, I sat with it—no music, no radio, no TV, just stillness—and started removing all those pointless stitches. Good progress was made and I took the time to assess my place in the day rather than let the uncontrollable bullshit set my course.

These bits and pieces have been with me a long time. I don't want to waste them.

Colin is becoming quite the chef.  I don't think I ever garnished anything in my life. Fresh chopped green stuff.

Chicken Parmesan made without mozzarella cheese and chicken thighs instead of breasts. Eating what's in the pantry and freezer these days.