Wings of Desire

 Acknowledgments first. I could not have managed this day without Colin's help. If I had to go under the house to turn on the water, I'd still be down there sleeping with the spiders and snakes. And the heavy lifting? Toting shit to and fro? He handled all of it, on his day off. I am grateful.

The dirty threads are rolled up in these five little bundles. Poaching in the autumn sunshine. Forty, fifty? 

I swiped the name for this dye set from the film even though I'd never been able to sit through the original. The concept of spirits wanting more from eternity has been on my mind. 

Of course, you know I'm a drop-dead, cry-like-my-heart-is-breaking fan of the American version from '98, City of Angels with Nick Cage, Meg Ryan, Denis Franz, and Andre Braugher.  It's one of those movies I haven't rewatched in ages because it just turns me inside out.

Beyond the emotional workout, I desired different things from the colors this time. I wanted greens that lurked in the weeds. Ocean and sky blues, inky purples, and rotting pumpkins. But you know how it is with wet cloth, so we'll all just have to wait until late tomorrow. 

All of this is vintage damask and most of it will be going into the Hot Scrap Mix.

There are dyes and magic sauce left over. Sunshine blazing through Sunday. I'm going to rummage in the closet to see if there is anything left that could use some color. 

Away & back

 

All forecasts pointed to dismal weather, but the sun had other ideas. The heat and humidity were shockingly equatorial for the Outer Banks in September. A strange compromise between New England's rowdy, freezing salt smash and the Emerald Coast's gentle, sterilized smoothness.

Swimmers were warned out of the water because of fierce undertows. We perched on the high-water mark, then ventured in, old lady style.

 The water was warm, edgy, and mostly devoid of life. It felt like another planet. An angry one. 

Ankle deep, the sand being snatched from under my feet by greedy waves, I said, "Mother forgive me. It's been years since my last visit." Mother sizzled around my feet, threatening to unbalance and upend me. I'd been warned. Retreat was easy, smart. 

Friday fringes

I don't know the Ens, but on closer inspection, it looks like they subbed out their monograms to the lowest bidder. Then again, I just pulled this tablecloth out of a hot wash/dry cycle. 

A raft of damask cutters (items stained or damaged) popped up on eBay and I was lucky enough to be first in line to grab them. They were yellowed, stained, and holey- just the way I like them.

  According to the voodoo bullshitters at weather-maybe.maybenot.com next Wednesday looks like a great day to get these into the dyes.

I have some experiments planned. 

I put up a few more gangs of dirty threads in the store but I won't be shipping anything until later next week. 

Post wash, they are like so much vanilla ice cream or cool whip. I plan on ironing this lot to bring out the iridescence once the color comes to roost. Photographing said iridescence will be another story.

Right now, I have to do laundry and pack!

 

I watched "The Crown" last year and came to a better understanding of Queen Elizabeth. Like many people, I'd never given a thought to the fact that she was a daughter, a sister, a wife, and a mother in a hugely complicated family all the while living with the demands and constraints of being a monarch in a world that has been anxious to shed monarchies. 

May she rest in peace after a long, hard job, well done. 

The double rainbow over Buckingham Palace was sublime.

                        Then this moved me to tears.

Ennui...

 

I have a pretty severe case of it. 

After so many years of having my schedule dictated for me, reallocating those weekly forty hours is challenging and I'm not up to any challenges so there's been a lot of listless time-wasting.  

My grandmother would have made me clean the parakeet's cage with a toothbrush. While the vicious little bugger was in it. 

Knowing why is something, anyway.  I'm having another back procedure tomorrow and will see about some physical therapy that is NOT in a public pool. I'm having some annoying breathing issues that feel like long covid and the last thing I want to do is spend an hour in a chlorinated atmosphere. 

Thank you for this, Liz. It was in my stack of "I'm gonna be bookmark any day now".  It reminded me of something important beyond the obvious. 

When I'm writing into a brick wall and getting nowhere, a neat trick is to write a scene for another character. Up to now, I've neglected the ghosts, Hope and Sam. They have a lot to say and hands to play in the sequel I'm developing. 

This was a big outing for me on Saturday. We took books to the little free library in the park where I used to walk and write. I managed 1200 steps and Charlie couldn't resist a last swipe at summer silliness.

It's a good thing I have him to remind me of simple joys.

A big week

 

I take this picture to be a good omen. A sense of community that I have missed while I was putting in forty hours a week with people I never saw or got to know.

This is the resident cat posse. Center on the mat, the youngster, Milly. Colin's Christmas rescue. She's a gonif and we are already having to restrict her caloric intake. No more basketball-sized cats in this family. It's really not good for them. 

On the left, Her Dowager Highness, Sweetie. You all know her. I indulge and spoil her. The two of us feeling the weight of life and years, arthritic and lazy.

Center on the steps, Young Thug, Bailey, the lithe fur snake who will interrupt his napping to rush onto my lap with the urgency of a child needing to be soothed after a nightmare. Sixty seconds of head scratching and poof, he's gone, back to his cat business.

Last, but not least, Lady Salem, she of the gorgeous graphics,  is still a bit troubled by Milly, the young interloper. Salem guards me jealously at night treating my hands like her long-lost kittens - licking them clean and moving them with a nip.

I am owned.

I have a few daily duties. I am honored to have breakfast with Charlie. He reads to me before and after school daily. Improving in leaps and bounds, he's found a hero writer in Dav Pilkey, author of the brilliant Dog Man Series. This, from "Dog Man: Mothering Heights"

Every story is chock full of action but sewn together by scenes like this. 

There were seven words or phrases here that prompted spirited discussions. The triple pov endings of this one made me cry, but I'm an easy mark.

He is perfecting his delivery for maximum Nana impact. 

There was a delightful adults-only day that included swimming in a still warm salt-water pool, food, drinks and a Braves game on the radio. Late that day, there was a phone call from the workplace. A wellness call, she described it. Thoughtful, if proforma. 

The next morning, I called and put them out of their misery. Who knew there was something called "off-boarding"?  The deal is done. I am free. 

The daily path is pretty much up to me and the calendar is already booking up. Today, I'll be driving to the gallery to fetch home the pieces that didn't sell.