I am here now

 Just uploaded the rest of the sets.

Just a quick and dirty shot of the business of Dirty Threads. This part is exceedingly tedious, but I do it while I'm doing other things. My hands have a life of their own.

Lefty is suffering a bit right now. While lifeguarding Charlie yesterday I took a sting to the pad of my thumb from some kind of wasp or hornet as it left no stinger, just a pint of poison.

Long ago I had an allergic reaction to a bee sting that took me to the hospital with breathing difficulties, but never since. The doctor advised me then that staying calm and not adding drama adrenaline to the situation is most effective in keeping sting issues localized if a true allergic reaction has not been previously diagnosed. 

Charlie tends to overreact to drama so I didn't tell him or make him get out of the fun. I sat still and focused on noticing how it all felt. Pain bloomed and subsided. My thumb got numb as it swelled and turned purplish but that was the extent of it. Today it's just sore and ugly. 

Meanwhile, devils (the siding people) continue banging on the walls. They must make sacrifices to the weather gods because five minutes after they left yesterday, the monsoons resumed. It's hot and sunnier today, with showers predicted for after sunset. They might just finish in three days. Pictures when it's over.

just a little madness

 





Forgive me for not responding to emails and such. 

The ongoing renovation is mind-sapping. 

 
Everything will fall into place in time. Just what time that might be I don't yet know. 

I'll get back to you.

cloth and words - riding the whirlwind.

 

I don't know if it's my eyes, the monitor, or the camera in my cell phone but some of these fabrics are impossible to capture digitally.

Grace called them Receiving Cloths - the fabric that I put on the table underneath the skeins of thread when I dye them. This lot, including these silk(?) bloomers from the '40s, came up very Monet Gardens colorwise. I've churned a lot of them into the scrap basket.

The threads - and there are a LOT of them - wait to be put in families of six and have their picture taken. Hope to get some of that done by Monday. If you want a custom set, email me:  deborah at lacativa dot com.

There are three Mystery Bundles left in the store. 

On the writing front, I'm learning everything the hard way, as usual, but it's getting done. I just ordered copies of the paperbacks that I'm going to sign for friends and family who don't/ or can't use e-readers. I get that entirely.

I'm still futzing with KDP to make all three seasons show up as a series. Anybody buying book one alone is going to be annoyed as hell even though the description clearly states that the book is a serial told in three parts.

for fun and on the side, I'm still working in the whine mine full time, being the GC on the house renovations, and anticipating Charlie's first day of second grade which will be digital. 

Pray that it's safe for them to attend in person, but this is Georgia. I don't feel bad for what I think he's missing. It's a different world these kids live in.

I remember getting in trouble in school because I refused to participate in duck and cover drills.

I had read Hiroshima and knew there was no safety. I remember bringing the slim paperback to the librarian and asking her if it was a true story. She snatched it from my hands and said, "Have you already read it?" I had.

She put it on the shelf behind the desk and said, "I'm sorry to tell you that it is."

I was nine or ten.

another eye

I miss the sunsets since Colin switched to the overnight shift at the airport but the sunrises have their own magic, as does the dead of the night. He has a great eye. 

 

Dirty Threads

I'm trying to not take too many. Only what I'm lacking for the work in progress.

These have been over-dyed and spent the night outside in a thunderstorm. Still waiting for a good wash. It will be days before they are ready to go. Even inside, it's so humid drying will be slow.

Bailey lending a paw from the bottom shelf of my herb/thread dryer. Right after this picture the rain resumed and I had to bring it inside. 

High Summer Dirty Threads

Even damp, I can tell these dirty threads are going to be riotous.

Got all those green to blues I was looking for and then some.

I speed-dried this pair last night. 

High Summer Thread

 I was in the pool scrubbing algae yesterday and had to get out. Not because it was raining, but I was waving a metal pole around in some fairly emphatic thunder. It's been like that for days. Tropical.

I know I said I'd have a dyefest rain or shine but who wants to deal with that? Something about being outside in the rain always makes me feel rushed. Not how I want to feel facing this many skeins of thread waiting for color.

Today was the day. I mixed colors right after coffee. Check that, I did not mix colors. For the first time in memory, I used colors straight from the cans without blending. A dozen of them.

The mixing came as a matter of eye and hand. So something different this time. Maybe. If the dye gods were properly appeased. I won't know until late tomorrow after everything is washed, rinsed, and dry. 

The High Summer Threads will be in the store by the weekend.

Let's not forget the cleanup crew. 

Two pieces of pretty old cotton sheeting. Not vintage, but well broken in.

Always while looking for something else

This is just the center of it. 24 x 36, I think. Oak tag, we used to call it. India ink and a speedball pen and my beloved Rapidograph. FM radio and pot. On the back "Electric Circus" Aug. 20, 1967. D. Useted. I remember that night in the city and the days making this so clearly.

And this. I was interested in reading palms. I would ask people to let me trace their hand on paper, then I'd duplicate their lines on the drawing. Then trace the drawing onto Shrinky Dink plastic with a black Sharpie, cut out the hands with scissors, and bake them in the oven. I had quite a collection of shrunken hands but never learned to read the lines.

This kid who was hanging around had paws like a mastiff puppy. He grew into them.

Because you asked.

I feel the need for....

 

..color and some fun in territory that I know well. 

Between the house stuff and the book marketing that I'm supposed to be learning about, I've been spending a lot of time feeling cornered, which is a bullshit waste of time.

Rain or shine, I'll be dyeing thread and some cloth tomorrow. The whole process may take longer than usual, but the Dirty Thread store will be restocked soon. 

Baby needs eight well-established crape myrtles come fall. I still haven't seen the house from the street, but I have seen the shocked look on Jake and Colin's faces. Two more groves like the one up by the mailbox will be perfect. A tree planted on each point of the compass in a circle about ten feet apart will give us the privacy back. Eventually. 

My thread stash is packed tight, and yet, something is missing. Greens to blues? Somewhere in that neighborhood. I need to weed this box the way I did the River Basket. I feel a giveaway coming on.

In a few, I'll be suiting up to be the waterbird when we pull the tarp off the pool. All the rain is on top of the tarp and will have to be siphoned off. Will the pool water be cold or warm? I'll find out soon.

hands on

 Do I hear myself promising I won't do that again? That sleeve for the tablet was conceived in a frenzy to have anything to do with my hands.  It was a predictably lackluster failure that will get recycled.

Looking through the river basket for inspiration, I see that it's been stocked with some pretty dark pickings for the next project. Something along the lines of Night Gardener I'll take the time to compose with the same compass headings as the book I'm laying out. Dark and scary. I think a title change is in order, too. The Monkeytown Murders feels almost lighthearted. Considering what frightens people most is challenging.

no regrets