We the People

To keep my hand in color, cloth, and design, I'm working on a new flag. We are going to need one.

I knew these stars were headed somewhere else.

 

Home from away

I actually got some writing done this week. The feeling is tantalizing. To create another world and get lost in it. I wanted to join the Make Good Trouble protest in Athens, but I was committed elsewhere. 

I'm fascinated with that copse of trees in the center of the field.

What is in there? What kind of trees are they? There's a road just beyond them, and the view is exactly the same from that vantage point. No animals are ever wandering here. It's unfenced. Right after the hay is cut, crows scavenge whatever didn't get out of the way.

The days have been long and deliberate. Chores, meals, two to three hours of math homework for Charlie, closely supervised to keep him on the rails. My own shortcomings in math blare at me from the workbook. 

I read ahead, study the examples, and check the answer key after I do a few problems. It's easy to see how repetition helps him. I understand how it might help me, but I'd rather spend the time learning another language.

It was too hot and humid to go outside. We soaked up an old favorite cartoon series that has held up, with writing, music, and delightful animations. 

I get postcards from home.  And now, I'm back.

He says the best day of his life, so far, is the day they found and adopted Nibbler. She remains tiny and full of feist. 

I'm awake before dawn, and she climbs on the bed and nudges my phone until I find cat videos on Insta. She pounces, purrs, and scrolls, and I can't take a picture of it.

Peak July

Colin's airstrip shots continue to amaze me. I admit to cropping and brightening this one because the composition was so good. The original was dim with atmospheric haze. Smoke, humidity. Ick. 

My Swedish Ivy is in some weird summer frolic mode. The leaves are thick and look like they would be good in a salad. So far, the only thing blooming is morning glories.  I'm worried that I let old Mother Lavender and Thyme go too long, hoping for rain. I gave them a good top dressing of potting soil and a few gallons of water. 

My neighborhood is experiencing a strange turnover. Deaths, displacements? Joyce's house across the street remains empty. Someone stole her flag before I could. The house next door has reverted to its corporate sterility. Keith finally took his bass boat out of the driveway, and Bailey misses his hangout. Poor guy has been through a lot of change. 

As for all the new FOR SALE signs sprouting, I wonder if these families have moved on to someplace safer than Georgia. It's always been a very eclectic community, but it's starting to feel ghosted. 

The water bill for this extravagance arrived. 275$ for the fill in June. 

And finally, we've found a new pizza joint!

Breakfast of champions - leftover deluxe and coffee.

I'm packing to spend a week with Charlie, so if you order anything, I'll get back to you.

my chairside tools

And this little bit of history is when Karma and I discovered the timer button on my Canon Pellix. Selfies from 1994.
 

I'm reveling in the basket of snakes in Washington beginning to bite and devour one another. Something weird and terminal is going to happen soon. He's starting to rot. 

Pushing some limit

 

Blondie

 Time to stop shopkeeping...for today anyway.

Sometimes these web tools just dig in their heels and decide to play stupid. Blogger stopped allowing me to add images to the store page, so I decided to post these three here. 

But the deranged blogger formatting idiot was on an angry tear, spewing images and captions all over this page, unrequested.

So I'll stop while I'm ahead and my fingers are still working nicely. 

(See what I mean?) 

If I listed the steps involved in posting these, you'd call me crazy, but when it's working the way it should, it's the best way I have of sharing these goodies.

Blondie has one of those skeins that I wrapped on a little stainless steel pot that I found hiding in the cupboard. Still 12 yards just a few less wraps for me, but in the end, a little pesky to handle. Back to the old Blue Tumbler in the future.

Catalpa, of course, from Dee Mallon's novel, The Weight of Cloth.  And Carnival from my own book. If you've read Prophets Tango, you'll remember the scene. 

Carnival

Catalpa

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.