The Hunter's moon kept me up

I was already in bed when a friend texted me about the MOON. Best I could muster was a shot out the kitchen window, the pines always lending their grace.

The bottom half of this shot, which I chopped off, it my neighbor's garish collection of inflatable Halloween decorations. A ten foot tall green alien and a wings-wide dragon. 

Instead of going back to bed, I pulled the Libra Table Mopper out of the bag on the floor in the bathroom and put it in the sink to soak. It's a thick damask tablecloth, 66x69. Another one that I can see myself cutting up.

I have a full complement of schmattas now so I'm looking for a blouse or tunic pattern. Any suggestions?
 

The threads and needle dragged me back to work on something adjacent to another writing project. For the first time, I'm using only three strands of Dirty Thread.

 Not doubling them lets the color changes pop a lot louder. Pesky as shit finding the exact space to dive the needle, but the results are satisfying. 

Close focus like this helps when the big picture of life gets too loud and busy.

There will be text on this piece, and that is going to take a lot of consideration. Song lyrics or political memes will not do. Liz, I may need some guidance on this tiny writing.

I also treated myself to a reading using the layout I made up for Slash & Burn. 

1st card - What you want

2nd card - What you need

3rd card - What you're going to get

4th card - the Grace of the Universe offering an option or modifier to the third card. Another way to go.

A flow going

They spent Friday night lying out under the almost full moon. I haven't had time to unroll the project to see if anything fits, but I'm already having that sense of "She's getting carried away again."

Like as not, I'll stuff them in a baggy to maintain their crankiness and set the whole thing aside for a bit. 

There's that nagging inability to focus that's afflicting nearly everyone. No remedy for it but the passing of time.

Saturday brought gifts from afar. My eyes were dazzled with a small flock of pristine cotton garments that made me think I should be looking for a river to get baptized in. Everything made with the "Blind Nuns" precision that I've come to expect from vintage imports, but none had much by way of provenance. 

Based on the thread count and weight of the cotton, the designer may have had access to a warehouse full of vintage sheeting. The cloth that cracks out loud when you whip it right and loses nothing by bleaching.

I've never seen pleated gussets below the armpits to shape a high waist. Any guesses about origins?

Sunday I traveled to meet up with my oldest friend here in Georgia at our favorite Mexican eatery. We have no trouble taking up a booth for two or three hours and they indulge us.

After lunch, there was a bittersweet visit to Phoenix & Dragon.  After 39 years, they are closing their doors.

When I first moved here from NY, AT&T had office space in the King and Queen towers on the northern edge of Atlanta. The commute there in the afternoon could take an hour so I always allowed extra time and used it to explore the immediate vicinity. That's how I stumbled on the "witch store" as my husband called it. Books, crystals, beads and incense. My hippie fix.

 It was a running family joke. When he smelled Nag Champa, he'd say, "Watch yourself. Mom's been to church!"  

They also were gracious to host two solos shows for me.

My Hope banner is still hanging over the reading room. I have asked for it back. I never thought the loan would come to an end.  

 

A thought

29"x58"

 Just a thought. Rolled and put away while a few other elements dry out.