Sunday catch up

Breaking self-regulation here. I guess you can't call it a rule if you only have the vaguest intention of it being enforceable.  There were to be no distractions from writing.

right. as if.

I uncovered this scrap again to find it unraveling dangerously and decided that it needed saving. Of course, this will grow. The way a common word becomes uncommon when paired with another. Then the phrases grow legs and gather in bunches, restive. Then the whole herd of those wild phrases takes off for parts unknown. Story!

I'm supposed to be somewhere and have one minute to figure out how to get there. I'll be back. Sorry, K. I didn't have Zoom configured on my phone. I'll try again.

Bailey (aka Killah) is annoyed when I encroach on his corner of the bed. "Bitch, this IS a Cali-king. Do you mind?"

He has been wreaking havoc on the lizard population of the deck.

Movie recommendations! "Hidalgo" with Viggo Mortenson is showing on Roku. Good even with commercials. "The Road to Perdition" with Tom Hanks on Netflix and, yes it goes this low..."Deuce Bigelow, Male Gigolo" again on Roku.

These arrived yesterday and HOLY SHIT! In what universe have I ever paid 12$ a bar for soap? This one and forever forward. The bars are big and fat- if you drop one on your foot in the shower it is going to hurt! The fragrances are intensely intoxicating and you'd better like whichever you choose because it lingers even after thorough rinsing. Lather? So rich, so gooey...closest comparison? Fresh cum.
💋💋💫

Addendum. Although I couldn't figure out the Zoom call, I was able to sit in on my first live livingroom concert that musicians are giving. Dayna Kurtz is an amazing singer/songwriter and just minutes before I had to log in to the day job, she had me in tears with "You'll Always Live in My Heart" then finished with this gem.

production

   

I'm not fond of production work. So many times in the past, I've started a pieced quilt, only to abandon the project out of boredom. My response is to not measure - free piecing and winging it, results being "eclectic" and "unique". Nice ways of saying "she has the attention span of a chipmunk". Truth.

The pattern used to make this mask must be adhered to, even as the curved piecing involved does bad things to my brain.

 I have thread. I have cloth. What I don't have is the stamina to sit in that chair for hours on end. I can feel my spine collapsing on itself, moment by moment, then I stagger to the bed and lay on my back for a nearly equal measure of time. Not good.

With no elastic (which I wouldn't wear anyway) I've resorted to cutting strips of jersey and making bias fold style ties. The cloth? I kept a few of Jim's heavyweight t-shirts. The cloth curls on itself so sweetly, so obligingly, making the ties is a pleasure. The lavender ties are from a wishful-thinking tank top of mine that's hung in the closet for at least ten years, never worn. Who knew it would ever see noble service.

I miss buying marked-down flowers from Kroger and Publix. I don't even know if they have floral departments anymore. I haven't been in a store since the 11th.  I'm also not going to any of the big box stores for the purpose of buying flats of annuals. I have seeds to go through and start.

Oh, there are new threads in the store. Reservations only for now.

time traveling

One of the things I like best about Facebook is the way it dishes up random memories.  Colin was playing crack, er, technology dealer one rainy afternoon exposing Charlie to the devil in the box. Charlie was still doubtful.


We remain well and safe. For the first time in memory, pollen levels in excess of 8000 have made me think I have a summer cold with the eye-watering and sneezing.

My day job continues, although they are beginning to offer days off because there is so little traffic. I anticipate layoffs unless the sales team has shifted its attention away from the hospitality sector.

Anyone else succumbing to Sloth in a big way?  The shower and hair wash was a delicious treat this morning. Way overdue. 

I was also mean to an online acquaintance last night. He posted a  challenge. List six concerts you've been to, one being a lie.  His list was such that I asked if he was Amish? Really, Pat Boone? The BeeGees. Harry Chapin?  Then I couldn't stop laughing at my own mean joke until I peed myself. 

I was going to start a new stitch adventure this morning but Bailey, aka Killah, wouldn't give up the chair. If you pick him up to move him, he will be back in the chair before you can turn around and plant your ass.

The sun holds on, but it's a bit brisk to go out with wet hair and the sniffles.

All that and I've lucked into a crackerjack beta-reader with a wicked eye and a sharp red pen who has confirmed that Prophets Tango is NOT ready for publication yet. Editing - the ever-shitting, I mean shifting tide of opinion and facts, flows on. and on.....sigh.

fun & filth

For all of you who do NOT waste your lives and time over at that post hole called FaceBook, I'm gleaning only the best on the days that not much is happening around here.
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A car full of Irish nuns is sitting at a traffic light in downtown Dublin when a bunch of rowdy drunks pulls up alongside them.

"Hey, show us yer tits, ya bloody penguins!" shouts one of the drunks.
Quite shocked, Mother Superior turns to Sister Mary Immaculata and says, "I don't think they know who we are; show them your cross."

Sister Mary Immaculata rolls down her window and shouts, "Piss off, ya fookin' little wankers, before I come over there and rip yer balls off!"

Sister Mary Immaculata then rolls up her window, looks back at Mother Superior, quite innocently, and asks, "Did that sound cross enough?
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In other news. I made a soap sack to put bits and slivers into for my shower. I have a vast collection of those little soap pills they give out at hotels. Some smell quite nice. They are all in the bag now. And speaking of hot showers.

 After a string of days in the Georgia pollen shitstorm (over 8000 today), I took Jack Flash to the DONT TOUCH ME OR SPEAK TO ME car wash. You know the kind. Wave your card, they wave you through. Spanking clean and shiny, I cranked up the rock and took the long straightaway home, heavy on the gas. 

On FB I wanted to say "This was more fun than a fast fuck in a hot shower" #veryeasilyamused.  But I censored myself. You, my friends, get me full blast.

something for everyone

Spent the whole afternoon yesterday, winding in a trance while I watched a poor choice of entertainment. The Netflix series "Ozark" examines the predicament of a seemingly ordinary family enmeshed in the workings of a drug cartel. It just keeps getting deeper and darker. I bailed.

Of course, I couldn't find the imaginary stash of cardboard spools so I used the last of my business cards. Put to good use, finally.

the Cone set

It will be a few days before I sort these out, curate some new sets, and get them posted for sale.

We are under a county mandated lockdown. I haven't been inside any retail establishment since 3/11 so it remains to be seen when I'll be able to ship these. But if anything grabs your fancy, I will be taking reservations against the better times the near future will bring us, if we all take good care.

And this for some solid hilarity 

The world has caught a virus so I’ve written you a poem We need your help to cure it, so stay the fuck at home. And if you have got twelve kids or you’re living on your own, Lock it down and isolate, and stay the fuck at home. If you think you’re not at risk here, you’re living in a dome, It spreads faster than a hookers legs, so stay the fuck at home. I need the gym, I need the beach, I hear you bitch and moan. You need to grow a brain cell and stay the fuck at home. But I feel fine, I don’t feel sick. I’ll go out on my own. How thick are you, you selfish prick. Please, just stay the fuck at home. From LA through to Berlin, and Wuhan through to Rome, There’s people dying every day, so stay the fuck at home. If you need to contact family, use Facebook, Skype, or phone, We’ve got the fucking internet, so stay the fuck at home. The only way to slow it down is isolate, not roam. Please help the world get back on track and stay the fuck at home. Stay the fuck at home, stay the fuck at home. Don’t you be a fucking dick, please stay the fuck at home.

Come on, sunshine.

75 and climbing

By the time I finished spooling up all the DMC I had, it was in the mid 80's and blazing bright. I really will have to speak to the management about putting up the new tent back there.

Your eyes do not deceive you. That drift of white laid out on the table is a vintage, damask tablecloth. It has a slight scorch mark and so went unloved a long time on eBay until I snatched it up for a song.

Today, it makes its debut as the 2020 dye season Table Mopper. The ground cloth for whatever dye fests may occur at the Lawrenceville Frankenstein Dyeworx in the coming months. At the end of the season, the cloth may become the centerpiece of a larger work, or I might hack it up and sent the bits 'round the world.

Here the innocent spools shiver in the secret sauce, waiting their turn on the table.

Joining them, a handful of strips of muslin from a long-abandoned log cabin project. Color wouldn't hurt. The carrier this time? A box of buggy oatmeal from deep in the pantry. Expiration date? I didn't look.

The victims, born again, all crusty with salt, sugar, dye, oatmeal. The cone carried the last yards into battle because I ran out of winding cards. The color, on the bottom, will be a surprise.

They are out there now, under the stars and a bare sliver of moon, owls serenading.

I'll wash, rinse and dry them tomorrow.

for now, I'm so done.

the fineness of the day

Wild violets, I think. They are everywhere in the upper reaches of the lawn where there is sunshine. I never noticed them before.

Got out for a quick drive to drop off some things to a friend who shouldn't go out for a while.

The action in the parking lot reminded me of  "Let's Sell/Buy Drugs" from way back in the day.  Two cars parked ten feet apart, facing in opposite directions. Drivers at the wheel. The principals get out, each proceeds to the opposite vehicle's trunk, keys handed over by the respective drivers. Goods and cash inspected and approved. Transfers made, keys returned and off we go, whistling.

I've been cranking out kitchen stuff between calls, using up the odds and ends of cotton string. They make good potholders, placemats, dish scrubbers - whatever.

How wonderful to be so plain, so solid, so useful.

I settled in to do some stitching, watch a little TV. Sweetie jumped up on the bed, turned over the little river basket and proceeded to examine the contents.
She has a seething resentment over her lack of thumbs.

Sweetie joined us in 2009 and is enjoying her status as Dowager Queen of the household. We indulge her every whim.

The coyotes are barking out in the woods behind the house and all three cats hover nearby, pretending to sleep, one eye open.

Makers make

Charlie did this drawing over a year ago. It's been hanging on the refrigerator all that time. In crayon, I tried ironing it onto the fabric but nothing transferred, so I'm stitching right through the paper with the idea that I'll be able to pick or wash it away when I'm done.

Bad idea? Hasty? Just a few small rebellions when you're stuck in the house and time seems both short and long.

I don't know why I was being coy about where and how much purple to use. Now that I think about it, if I wind up in the pest house at least they will remember the lady with purple hair if they can't remember or manage my name.

The whole time my husband was in treatment for cancer and when he was here at home, I was with him. More often than not, holding his hand to the last moments and beyond. The thought of someone I love and care about having to be in the hospital alone is more than I can bear to think about. Any and all distractions are welcome.

And to the point of being out of time or coy, I give you this.

the hardest part

It's been twelve days since I spent the day with Charlie. He was sick with a small fever a week ago Monday - back before a fever was terrifying. It was gone Tuesday morning, and he was fine and has been fine, but by the school rules, he had to stay home so I spent the day with him. It was the first day that he's missed school all term.

I didn't know then it would be the last visit we'd have for a while since we've all agreed that it's safest for everyone to limit our circles of contact.

We facetime, but I get the feeling that young children expect more from an electronic device than facetime with Nana can give. There are no big hugs, no silly business or fart noises. I miss him terribly. There is so much I still have to teach him. Learn from him.

I'm having a good cry along with "Yentl". Each and every time I watch it.