Saturday, August 24, 2019

Paying attention

For about a month, we’ve been trying to find a home for a fiberglass truck cap that’s been hanging around outside since, oh, 2001, leaning up against the house, lending that Tobacco Road charm to the place. The truck it came with died and the hope was to transfer it to a replacement vehicle. We paid nearly 300$ to replace the large rear window on the cap, not a week before fatal transmission failure made that expense moot. I’ve had it on various websites under FREE and CURB ALERT. So far, no takers and the weeds are getting tall around it. Good thing we have no HOA here.

I’ve told a couple of people that Jim’s been close these days. Yesterday proved it for me. 

I lolled about in a housedress until nearly noon, doing as I pleased. Something, someone said, “Get your shit together and go get the things you forgot at the store yesterday. Like deodorant, laundry detergent and a hairbrush. The basics of civilization will escape me from time to time.

I dressed with whatever was lying around that was not befrigged with cat cooties, pulled on the non-favorite sandals instead of hunting down the beloveds. Rather than wait for the AC, I opened the roof and windows wide and headed out. Timing was everthing.

I had to wait for a few cars to go by before I could pull out of the community. When I did, I fell in behind a small pickup, black, older. As I got closer I could read that it was a GMC Sonoma, same model, and color as Jim’s. They are very plain so there was no telling the year.

We sat and waited at the train crossing for a freight train to rattle through. Twenty-some cars instead of the usual eighty or ninety and I debated jumping out of my car and running up to speak to the driver. “Hey, mister, does this old truck need a matching cap?’ The gate came up and traffic moved out. I resolved that if he made a right in the direction of the grocery store, I’d follow and engage.

 Just before the intersection, he made a hard, unsignalled right into a different shopping center and parked. I followed. I was committed. Or should be.

He wasn’t an armed madman. A younger Dave Grohl type – dark, hairy and grubby, but I’m sure I gave him pause when I blocked him in, rolled down my window and asked what year his truck was. 1998, just like ours. What were the odds? I felt like Jimmy was in the passenger seat laughing and had to laugh myself.

So I told the kid about the cap, offered it up for free and gave him the address where he could look it over and help himself, or not. He was non-committal, probably relieved I wasn’t the Law.

I tried.

I'll let you know.

Friday, August 23, 2019

Sun chasing

Shifting around in the chair, reaching for the light as the sun gets about his daily transit.

The strong light sifts through the limbs and leaves of the water oak in fits and starts forcing me to pay attention.

Thursday, August 22, 2019

lost treasures

Dug up from the back of a drawer. The whole crew of elders, my bowlegged groom, that Beast, me and my crew. I was keeping a grip on Shag (Jim's dog) so he wouldn't put his nose up under my dress, his favorite pastime, aside from knocking me down and nipping at me to confirm his dominance. I think my Dad was standing on a tree root, but my Grandma in her floral glory was nearly the tallest chick at the party. Bless her genes.

Tuesday, August 20, 2019

secret messages

"He watched as she stalked a wide, slow circle that took her all the way around the car. She was wearing something short and black. Magic again? Without taking his eyes off her, he took off his St. Christopher’s medal and hung it from the rear-view. He could feel her energy and gripped the steering wheel, mesmerized.

She stopped a few paces out in front of the car. Both hands reached for the stars, then she crouched low and brushed the wet grass with her fingertips. No candles, no incense. She spoke into the darkness like it was listening.

Hear me sisters, Fire, Wind, Water and Earth, in all your names and guises.
Light the watchtowers for us. Hold back the night.
I ask cover from all quarters.
Bless us this circle and we within."
"Prophets Tango"  by Deborah Lacativa 2019

Sunday, August 18, 2019

good night

embarrassment of riches

This is a deep basket!

I'm going to be putting these up in sets of four and six. Curating is the fun part. I'll post them to the Dirty Threads page as time permits.

If you have any colorway requests, email me.

Now all I have to do is keep my hand out of the candy jar.

Saturday, August 17, 2019

building the moon

 A very old piece of damask that had been dyed, discharged and coveted for years convinced me that, no, the moon doesn't have to be a perfect circle.

How it looks is all in where you are standing the moment you look up. I have some silver and gold metallic threads, but I'm going to hold off on those until the very last minute.

Being mindful that the moon casts no light of its own. It can only reflect.

Friday, August 16, 2019

Night garden at sunrise

The better to actually see what I'm doing.
There's going to be a lot going on in this sky. A lot of handling, moving the hoops around.

To protect the central gardens, I've rolled the bottom two-thirds of the piece up and stitched the roll in place for a while. Hope I don't lose sight while I work in the clouds.

It's easy enough to do, no matter what medium you work in.

While I'm stitching,  I'm thinking through issues my incredible beta reader has pointed out. Places in my writing where I've obsessed over the right word, forgetting the purpose of the passage.

I've done that with stitching too many times to think about.

When it gets down to agonizing over spearing the warp or the weft, I need to put the work down and take a break. It's Friday after all.

Thursday, August 15, 2019


There it is, J. Those greens I've been casting for.

I've always been a sucker for jewel tones. Who isn't.

This lot was outside drying on the picnic table while I was a half-hour away heading into this. A second rinse wouldn't have been terrible, but now I can get back to the Garden.

Tuesday, August 13, 2019

Not fail away

I finally took about one hundred skeins out onto the dye deck. What a messy disappointment. All I can claim is madness in the midday heat.
I saved maybe a dozen. The rest of the motley crew will get a second chance, but they may have to wait. It was one hundred degrees outside today. 

The green in the foreground below is eluding me.

The rest of today was spent at the wet office with friends. Then, I got to pick up my buddy from aftercare. We chilled with popsicles, cartoons, and tales of kindergarten adventure.

Saturday, August 10, 2019


A little too much time stitching and listening to music.

I need to flip melancholy the bird and get up to no good for a few hours. This house is so quiet. Empty.

Paying attention

For about a month, we’ve been trying to find a home for a fiberglass truck cap that’s been hanging around outside since, oh, 2001, leaning...

Play it again Sam.