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.
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.
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?
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.
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