Peel off my spirit and dance around waving in the air overhead because I found out that I have until 5/1 to file the taxes. Hozzanuh!
I'll get on it tomorrow.
Task-wise, I've been creeping up on it, removing clutter from the desk where I know I left all the necessary paperwork.
Finishing up from yesterday, I rescued this piece from wandering around loose in the trunk of my car. It smelled. There were stains of unknown origin, so I tossed it into the washer with the rest of the weird stuff: cloth shopping totes, crocheted potholders, kitchen towels. You know - not clothes.
It came out fine. I'll look again closely when it's fully dry.
The carpet got some long overdue suckage. pollen and cathair galore! There was regular laundry.
I missed the good shot. The soapy spew in the carwash started out looking like I lost an eggfight with the east bunny. I spent a sunny hour vacuuming and window washing. Jack Flash hasn't been this clean since I got him.
What's provoked this burst of energy? The final wrap-up of the worst of this cold. It's dragging its feet, but I'm feeling much better.
After some very strange retail therapy.
(More on that, if anything comes of it.) and indulging in a bowl of ziti and meatballs awash in my homegrown sauce.
Homegrown. That's gonna resonate.
I'm Garcia Spartacus, motherfucker. Not this time.
And digging deeply into the threadbox. Splitting six to two.
Where to go and when to stop.
It's a very different emotional return than I'm accustomed to with line and fills. Rocks between "Ick" and "Oooo"
If you have access to Kanopy and a library card, look for a documentary called
"John Singer Sargent: Fashion & Swagger"
2 comments:
yeah, those kinda dreams
and seed stitch ... so so hard for my hands to stay random, they want rhythm and regularity ... but yours make me want to try again
That final image- ooooooo, I want to do that. I need to dig out one of your scraps and a handful of your thread....Heating Pad City-- couch and some stitch....when the Tylenol kicks in.
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