this is my Saturday

Some of you may know that I work the day(night) job every weekend, so your Tuesday is my Saturday. This puts me at odds with the world sometimes, but most times, I can do what I please with plenty of breathing space around me.

Filling a thread order this morning I couldn't imagine how I let this one get away! Just the amount and intensity of chaos that usually grabs my attention. Somebody beat me to it!

Good music, errands, and stuff, beautiful things, and later, a date with the Gooby. There might be pictures.

 

stopping, or not

I always struggle with when to stop, especially when I'm working down at the one or two-thread level of embroidery.

 Choosing to place a needle to the right or the left of a single thread, it's easy to lose sight of the whole.

Step back, feet away and see if it feels done. Is the story complete?

So goes the book editing. What looked like just the right word yesterday, grates on my nerves today.

Resolving to NOT, keep second (third, fourth) guessing myself. Trusting that 99% of those first words came from a well-informed place. I'm off to the wet office with a fistful of pages to chew on.

Things are thinning out over at Dirty Threads. As long as summer seems to be holding on, I'm prepping for one more batch. Blues, roses, brown and greens....what else? Let me know.

no Dorian

Don't be fooled. That Caribbean tinge means I didn't spend enough time working the long-handled scrubber around the floor today. The later into the season, the more work, but I'll take every day Summer has left for me.

I've been sleeping badly since coming home. Disjointed, post-apocalyptic dreams that never go anywhere but in anxious circles.

Thinking too much about the wrong
things. Have some images instead.

and back

It was a great trip, fun and relaxing because my people all went above and beyond for my comfort and safety.

But it's always good to get home. Back to the things I like doing, the stuff that needs doing. I didn't get much stitching done as I'm getting pretty fussy about lighting and, as bright as it was at the beach, it was really too damn hot! The TSA didn't nab my scissors, so, it's all good.

I cleaned up the work table and finally am releasing some of the last dyed threads into the wild. My personal stash is overflowing and if I look at these one more time....

The quest was for greens. A lot of gold crept in. The Rubies and the Amethysts are too dark with little variation, but it's not like I'm going to throw them away. There are a lot of plain crazy players too. You can see them all here.

I was missed.

away

the Casino Girls terrorizing Foxwoods. Except for feeding ourselves so generously, we (for the most part) broke even.
I don't know where my beach pictures evaporated to, but the day was perfect.

It was a treat to spend a little time with the nephews that I don't often get to see.

Two charming and delightful small humans.








Every room in the house has art or quilts I've made. This was my mother's lap quilt in the nursing home. She dragged it around with her everywhere. I slept under it for a few nights.

Ocean work

homefires

Someone is wise to the fact that I'm heading out of town. Right after this, I had to pull her out of my half-packed suitcase.

She's going to need some extra coddling while I'm away.

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.

It's 5:00pm Sunday. Sad to say, it's still up there. 
Guess he decided he didn't need to accessorize.

PS...Craigslist is dead. Long live Facebook Marketplace. The same day as I decided the cap would be headed for the dump, I listed it on FB marketplace. In an hour I had six people interested. Inside another, two nice men with a small truck came, fitted it to said truck and spirited it away to a life of continued service. I'm so happy. They even scrawled a thankyou on the FREE sign. 

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.

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.

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 and hung it from the rearview. Gripping the steering wheel, he leaned forward, mesmerized.

She stopped a few paces in front of the car. Her hands reached for the stars, then she crouched low and brushed the wet grass with her fingertips. No candles, no incense. Then 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."

He’d covered the cracked plastic upholstery with a plaid flannel blanket. Like a bird on a wire, she perched on the edge of the seat. He reached under the dash, a motor whirred, and the patched convertible top lifted slowly, folding back on itself.

“You got it fixed!” The sky was clear, full of stars, and cooler, less humid air washed over them. They were in some kind of clearing; the grass manicured. “Where are we?”

“A golf course.” Jack looked around, pleased with his choice. “Listen. When I called before, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. To talk, you know?”

He was about to light a joint, but she took it from him and tucked it into the ashtray, then put her fingertips on his lips. She couldn’t say ‘fuck’ and wouldn’t say ‘make love’. He sucked her fingers into his mouth, then they stripped each other out of their clothes. The confines of the front seat of the Skylark was nothing to two people hell-bent on taking up the same space.

"Prophets Tango"  by Deborah Lacativa 2021