Into today, September 11

 I would have preferred to avoid the internet altogether today.  9/11 remembrances affect me more as the years wear on, and there are fewer people in my life who were actually alive and sentient twenty-five years ago. Many New Yorkers my age would either like to forget or sadly, they have. 

I also wanted to know as little as possible about the Shitweasel's swill fest in Dallas. He wasn't joking, and he is guilty of the crime of bribery. And somebody better tag and bag Mitch McConnell soon. There are enough zombies in Congress without the real deal on the payroll.

But there was business to attend to and more patient portals to navigate. I hate that shit. I can't imagine having no option but to deal with that crap while being sick with whatever. I have no patience for it. Fuck them. Hire a human. 

The weather took the promised turn - hotter and more humid than yesterday, but every ten minutes another burst of blazing sun alternated with oppressive cloud cover. The animals were acting out. Flipping me the bird.  

On my way to the doctor's office, I checked the mail and discovered the gardenia is coming into it's second bloom. With any luck or rain, I'll have Christmas gardenias again. Only one bloom, but lots of buds. The office visit just a formality so I can continue having some high-powered pain meds on hand should anyone need them. My back is as good as it's going to get with her care. The rest is up to me.

Everyone at the post office was in top form (your orders are rumored to be arriving on Monday). I actually followed through with the survey on the receipt!

Late in the afternoon the clouds lowered and thunder rolled, and we got a good long drenching. I tucked up with the threads and worked on those scribbled sketches from yesterday. 

Yesterday

Lately, I've been warned against making plans. The gods have been rolling in the aisles at my audacity.

My ten am appointment at the tire place - usually so punctual it doesn't pay to take any stitching along - dragged on until 12:30. 

I sat on the bench outside in dismay, watching fat, towering clouds bustle on through an incredibly cobalt sky. Still hot enough to sweat in the sun.

The "I'm starving to death" headache had made a nest in my left eye, so I succumbed to the BK right night door. Nothing they make actually smells like the air in the drive-thru line. It still surprises me that I can only eat half of whatever. The coke was tasteless enough to make me wonder if I had a case of the 'vid.

Feeding accomplished on the fly, I was still in a state of high dudgeon once I got home, wallet lighter from an alignment I hadn't anticipated and a serious case of the bloat setting in. As much as I hated the notion of wriggling into a damp bathing suit, I knew the cure was in the water.  

 

It was. Even though the sun was sharp, it was brittle and the water cooler by some degrees from the last swim. I deliberately left my phone upstairs, taking nothing but my hat. 

No music. No messages. No calls. No feverishly checking to see if he was dead yet...just giving my head a blank canvas to rest on and letting the buoyancy take the body.  

There was some "no-think" meditation, and if I had been in the floaty, I might have fallen asleep, the peace was so profound except...by the angle of the sun, the depth of the shadows and whisper of browning leaves, I knew it was the last swim of the year. Some years it's a guess. Not this time. 

Back upstairs, I slathered on aloe vera and settled into the stitching chair with Sophie. Her short, dense fur is like velvet. On the way in from the pool, I walked on some sprigs of thyme growing along the walkway, and Bong thought my feet were emissaries from heaven. Yes, this is an AI edit of the original photo because pictures of real feet, even my giant flippers, get unwanted attention from foot geeks. I still might put out a tip jar. 

Later, after coffee ice cream on ginger snaps, I sank into a few hours of some very quirky TV, mostly for the music (because I've watched the whole five seasons before) to backdrop some mindless doodling.

It's good to rest mind and body at the same time. 

I need to do it more often.

Heart on Fire

 

This heart is going to be stitched onto a denim vest I bought a while ago. Tart it up and sell it. 

I feel some beadwork coming on too. Fringes and frogs. 

He brings us the skies

 

To the Makers

 A toast!

If nothing else--thread or cloth--came from the most recent dyefest, this simple damask napkin would have been worth all the work.

"She rode a fierce black mule into the afterlife, a banner of wonder tied over the animal's eyes so he wouldn't be afraid."

~○~

Some of the newest cloth and thread demanded immediate action.

Working in the first strong morning light, provoked a return to the word train, too.

Think of it coming down the track at you, a measured, grinding pace. The rhythm of pen on paper, inviting you to take the leap, catch ahold up onto rough boards and unknown destinations. 

Wizards, we. 

Always drama

I'm parking this snitch of damask on this delicate linen table runner for now. It might come to something. Starts have been shakier. It has a lot of loud for something so small. I've been hand-washing the scraps from the dyefest and haven't had a chance to look for bright spots. The threads are bold as brass.

In time. 

                                                                                    ~🌔~

This piece came up in fb memories today. 2012 was a big year for big work. This one is going to get up on the wall. "Los Dados Encantada" is one of my favorites.

 

Color therapy

 I'm in. 

No rush. No plans. 

Just holding on to the ones that speak to me first.  

Juicy self dealing

 

It's why I started dyeing stuff in the first place. Getting mine first!

But mindful of the fact that I'm not in any creative flush at the moment, I'm not going to wind these onto bobbins for a while. They may well wind up back in the shop.

Maybe when I sober up from this state of drunk on color and get real about just how much thread I really need.

But that's my problem. You can run amok!

I updated the store with some of the Electric Eclectics, but ran out of good morning light. 

 

Some of these colorways are very hard to capture. It's like photographing opals. 

a day flipped over

 I went to sleep with plans of spending the day away with friends. Lunch and the pool, maybe a game on the radio (we are all Braves fans). Gnashing our teeth over politics and having a weep over Dolly and Tim Curry. 

Heavy rain, thunder and lightning here and no guarantee that an hour away it wouldn't be more of the same. I've been swimming in the rain before, but lightning? No thanks. 

Everything green and living outdoors heaved a deep sigh of relief. 

I stepped out to push the houseplants out from under the overhang to make sure they got a good drenching. I'm going to have to re-home some of the bigger ones come fall. 

I should have gone out in the rain with a scrub brush and some soap for the lawn furniture. Instead, I sulked in the studio aimlessly. 

Another bonus: the last round of dyed cloth was batching outside on the deck. Everything was spread out on a large piece of thick cotton. Almost like canvas. The heavy rain saved me a lot of hand rinsing.

~🌑~

Plans in the wind, I sulked aimlessly in the studio. I was so dark I had to turn on the task lamp. I keep pulling this peace of linen out, each time, at a loss as to what I want to do with it. What I don't want to do is waste it somehow. It's a yard of 42" contemporary, mid-weight linen that I used to wipe my hands with during a dye session. I hand-hemmed it all the way around. 

My creative block is getting to be a bore. 

What I was really avoiding was going through the latest harvest. It's been a long time since I was so happy with the results. Before I can take any for myself, I have to weed out my thread box to make room for new colors. There will be a lot of half-used bobbins of thread tucked in with cloth bundles in the future!

Afternoon storm light is not at all good for getting accurate images . Maybe tomorrow.

The Juice

 The Eclectic Electrics

The stone ponies

(These are still damp so, a little wet thread porn here)

The cloth this time

 

It's going to be awhile before I can get all the cloth processed. One piece at a time, hand-rinsed, washed, rinsed, and depending on the run-off, maybe repeat the entire process.

There's a lot of textures and embroidery across a variety of types of cloth. Most of it came to me ironed to perfection. Sorry, it's not going out that way.

...and there's another medium - sized batch of cloth still steeping in the magic sauce and there was plenty of dye left in the shakers. We are expecting storms midday, so that's going to be my first order of business after coffee . 

We voted yesterday. I'm in the Georgia 13th House District and our candidate won! I was quite freaked out to find that only 23 votes were cast ahead of me at 1pm. But folks showed up.

The plan is, once the scrap basket is full, I'm going to pack and weigh a scrap bag and then take a video of an unpacking so people can see just what they are getting for their money. 

My companions

 The elders...Salem and Bailey 

And the young guns. Bong and Sophie. 

From go to done ~ gratitude.

 

From running the list and making ready. 

Thank you, Colin, for the heavy lifting and water management. 

For the music that keeps me moving forward when the sweat drips into my eyes. 

Thanks for the dappled shade from the mimosa seedling that has become a tree in the past few years. Alas, your days are numbered.

Thanks to the donors who saw potential in old and unused linens, sheets, napkins, and garments.

Thanks to the patrons who have supported this madness with loyalty all these years.

and thanks to Serendipity for turning out some very fine first fruits. 

These are the kinds of results that keep me going.

August slip sliding away

 

 

Bringing black back into play was a shock. A little of that shit goes a long way. There may be some real mudhens in this batch.

Summer has turned her face and looked over her shoulder at us coyly. "I'm almost done with you, peasants." 

Mid-nineties during the day and mid-sixties at night, and after a few days of neglect, the pool has taken on that green tinge that won't be turned back.  It's my fault for buying one last tub of chlorine tabs.