A glimpse inside the sausage factory

 

Milly has claimed the sewing chair for the moment. At least she's content to watch - no kittenish interference or playing from this one. She conserves her energy in an admirably human fashion. 

The studio is mostly reconfigured, but I have orders to fill. 

The scrap basket was looking a little anemic when I spied a stack of really colorful cottons on the shelf. I was well into ripping into them when I realized that this was the Kona cotton that I bought and dyed to make a couple of summer shifts for myself. Last summer.  Oh well. Nothing like a change of plans. If I had made a couple of schmattas no one would ever see all this glorious cloth. Now it's going to be in the world. 

If you buy a scrap bundle, a suggestion. Fill a big bowl or the bathroom sink with warm water and drop or two of Dawn. Give it all a gentle wash and rinse. There might be a tiny bit of pink in the water but it won't stick to anything non-organic. Finger-press the bits out to dry flat on an old towel. You might even get crazy and iron them! 

painting to move the needle

 

 

Some time ago, years now, I bought some stuff to paint with. The intention was to paint directly on unprimed canvas. Straight to the cloth.

The project got derailed and the tools tucked deep away.

During the reorganization, I found them. Golden color concentrates. Medium and heavy gels, matte and gloss.

No canvas around, so 18x24 inch multimedia paper. Heavy. A step away from card stock. Brushes that I have had since the late '60s. I never went cheap on paintbrushes.

Once the pallet is set up, I'm off to the races. No plan, no direction, and sure enough, no backing out. Every stroke a commitment. 

And it's messy AF. I'd forgotten about that part. Clean-up time

I have them both up on the blank wall in the studio. Tomorrow I'll know how they stand up to the light of day. Think about how this fits into my profound lack of plans.

 

The morning after

January 1. 6:49 am. 

This is fog and smoke from the ton or two of explosives set off within a mile of my house. I don't want to call them fireworks because there's rarely anything visible. They just don't get high enough. But the noise! Poor Bailey spent the night under the bed. The girls were unphased.  There was a surprising lack of gunfire throughout the evening. 

It was almost 8:30 before the day could show its face.

And here's mine. Unfiltered and not-yet-caffeinated. Gimme a minute.

A year of unexpected grace

 

2022 was very hard on people in subtle ways. 

There was no pre-pandemic normal to go back to.

People craved escape, in any form. Some creators came through in astonishing style.

Some of us makers muddled along.

Little birds grew strong wings. Families found new nests. May 2023 be gentle on us all.

Home

 

Look familiar? 

I'm in the process of moving out of the studio and back into the master bedroom. It's going to take some getting used to.

Remembering the studio's morning light and the street view. Moving personal stuff out. Leaving art/writing stuff there.  Remembering it was all scattered anyway. So much less stuff than before. 

While I dragged stuff to and fro, he keeps tradition.

The seven-degree weather was belied by blazing sunshine this morning and I got caught up in adding another reveler. 

The TV was already gone. Just music, sunshine, and list-making

Last night was the first night back in the big bed. As if I'd ever get it all to myself.

Merry Christmas!

Away

 

I spent a few days with Charlie at their new place. We wandered, investigating the territory. Found a grand library where the let him borrow books and a game before he even had a library card! 

Three stalemates at Connect Four makes me think chess could be next.

Bad weather and no internet led to shenanigans. 

Charlie's sky

 Never in this lifetime have I seen so many stars, but it's so achingly familiar.  

Then there's this

They Fly!

Tonight, they will sleep in their new nest.

I am so happy for them.

 

I didn't cry until the truck disappeared around the corner.

Full sleeve?

 

Maybe using up all the thread in my stash will be the spur for an indoor dye fest. 

I have to do some digging in history to find when and if I tried dyeing thread in my kitchen in the past. The memories are not good ones. Weak colors. Skips and misses. Tangles?  A mason jar half full of turquoise sprung a mysterious hole. There was blue and blood everywhere and I never found out why.

There will be research.

In the meantime.

I may be one of the few people you know who does NOT have a tattoo. I wouldn't put anyone's art on my skin permanently. But this star fell a bit off-center and needs to be balanced with something. Then something else. And more. I could have a full sleeve, but I'm pretty sure that's going to involve opening the seam to have room to work. 

***

It was 75 degrees by noon.

I put some of the houseplants back outside. We'll chance a few more days of moderate temps. 

The shift is on

 

On Friday, Jake met Charlie at the bus stop after school. They packed for the weekend and drove to their new home. Missy met them there and they spent the whole weekend painting and whatever else a house needs to start looking like home before the stuff arrives. Smart.

The official moving day is still in flux. Fortunately, their furniture is in storage with family only fifteen minutes from the new place. More importantly Granny, Aunt, Uncle, and little cousins are also that close. That is an immense comfort to me.

It was quiet around here. Colin was at work and I was left with four felines who couldn't seem to settle anywhere, hunting from room to room for their housemates. In and out the cat door, fussing over previously shared territories. 

I will learn how to be alone again. It's only an hour and ten minutes' drive to visit and you know how I love to drive.

Cloth & stitch is better than getting a tattoo.