Something old reimagined

I tried replicating the Santa's Sleigh font. It sure doesn't come naturally, pen on paper, that is. I was test-driving my text stitch here using a crewel needle and the full six strands of DMC, doubled. To be fair, the project will have larger size letters. Twice this. Still, it fell clunky and a colossal waste of thread. 

I'll be happier if I lay the text out with my own font (the top photo) - a bastardized slab serif instead of trying to be letter true to Santa's Sleigh. 

Back in the day, I was a font whore.  Snapping up freebies from sketchy warez websites at every opportunity. Probably caught computer cooties more than once that way. 

Then I fell in love with one that had to be purchased. With MONEY. It's called Decoracha. You can see the charm. I think at the time it was only available commercially and for Mac users. I got over it but will refer to certain characteristics of it in my own font whenever spacing calls for flexibility.  I need to sit with a sketch pad and just draw letters for a while before I even think of stitching anything.

Grubbing around in the cloth closet, I found the perfect piece for the project. It's lightweight contemporary linen so I know it is young and strong, still, I'm going to back it with another layer because it's a big project that's going to take a lot of handling. 

This linen was most likely a table mopper. I like the light linen for that because it is as absorbent as paper towels. Then there was some Soft Scrub discharging. I can tell by the blue halos. 

The whole piece of cloth has a mystery touch that suits my purpose of the spell.  

I'm going to do all of this the hard way, starting with ironing a grid into the cloth. 

Letters to words, to sentences. 

All of it's the driving wheel of the writing train. 

You never know what

minutes are going to matter. 

 

Strange view updated for Monday

 Visitors parked across the way. The lavender cast in this color is missing. I don't know when it arrived or left but I must have looked at it a hundred times. Somehow wanting it to fly away like so much vapor. I swear I had a pair of Easter shoes that were the same color. Anyway....

But I've been busy shoveling around words and sentences. It's thirsty work. And damn little to show for it at this point. This book could get out of hand page-count-wise very easily. 

How to add a new adventure only retelling necessary details from the first three books? The main characters went through a lot of changes in a short time. From strangers to married in only five months. That's a lot of heat. Now, how to keep that pace without getting carried away. 

Fuck if I know how to do that.      (out loud!)

Dee's to-do list is enough to send me back to bed. 

The only thing I promise today is to buy and distribute more birdseed. Throw in some cheap peanuts and raisins. Winter is going to be long and hard for the feathered folk.  I don't have a feeder. Just throw stuff on the ground up under the crape myrtles away from the cat crew. That bare spot on the ground in the picture sees a lot of action. If it gets above freezing, I'll put fresh water in the big clay dish. 

 At this moment a gang of bluejays is warring with the squirrels. Doves patrolling. In a while, they will leave and the littles will take over shuffling the leaves around to get at what the big greedy ones missed. Sparrows, wrens, chickadees. Midday I may see bluebirds and cardinals fussing with one another.

This week I will vacuum upstairs and clear off the work table.  Laundry with clean sheets will happen along the way. Maybe.

summer dreams

I really shouldn't complain. It's not like we've had days of below-freezing temps and inches or feet of snow. The featureless wet/cold of winter here wears on my nerves. It sneaks up on you and eventually sneaks away.

I've been cruising the web for beach vacation stuff. Just looking really. Destin is six hours due south and Savannah is six hours due east. Seven if you loaf but then I need a half-day nap to recover. 

The health and safety issues around car camping are real considerations, especially if I go alone. 

Ah, youth. 

Once upon a time, I drove to Cape Cod with some friends not considering staying overnight. Young overindulging fools slept in a hole in the sand on the beach. Rousted but not arrested by the fuzz before dawn. 

In the ladies' room, I stood on the toilet seat and poured a gallon of water over my head for cleanup the next day. 

On the way home we had to panhandle in traffic for the Mass Turnpike toll. Sheepishly offered two postage stamps and forty-six cents to the toll officer. He took the driver's license info and waved us on to face a ticket later. 

It was a fine night for a beach walk.

Words to thread

 

This picture was wildly popular on Instagram yesterday. The only reason I can think of is that many people truly have run out of fucks to give. 

I have on several accounts recently, but it's as tiring a carrying an old grudge. Dumping the put-upon, long-suffering persona is leaving some marvelous clear space for other actions. 

Another pillow? A new sentiment will need a new font. A good reason to break out the sketch pad. 

Great. Put another quarter in the jukebox. Commit the piracy of lyric lifting or just be inspired.

And there it was, right under my nose. 

Other arting

I've used this melamine plate as a palette since we moved here in '93. I was dazzled by the Nam Dae Mun farmers market. Aisles full of food that, for the most part, I couldn't imagine eating, but the inexpensive cookware, dishes, cutlery, and gadgets were like catnip. 

Today I upgraded a piece of dry wood to a walking stick. Or a shillelagh, or wizard's wand. I do very poorly with canes. Trip myself and lose them. A shoulder-high stick helps my posture and mobility. This one should also keep trolls at bay when it's finished. 

I need beads and bells.

This venture was inspired by the King of Wands.

An inner spiritual change is often heralded when this card appears. The King of Wands invites us to act as he would to solve our problems. His vision is one of ideal reality, and his vision is that humanity might always be better than it is. He is the warrior of light who stands up for something that matters, and his appearance is an invitation for you to do so as well. If there is a cause you wish to support, but you are unsure of your position, you may proceed with the knowledge that your base of power is strong. Enjoy the King's power and authority, but be sure to use it for productive means. Take your responsibilities seriously, think of new ways to do things, and never stop believing in yourself. (J.Rioux)

art by David Palladini

 

We were missed - updated

 

Back from the country, the cats spent the day letting me know they were peeved with my absence, but Charlie's brief visit was welcomed. He is warily gentle with them.

They have a pair of guinea pigs now, but I don't think they have a lot to offer beyond learning how much care goes into keeping caged animals safe and healthy. 

He wants to have two cats, but that is not my call so he gets to enjoy visiting with mine. 

We spent a lot of time talking. He wants to know what life and the world were like when I was his age. We are time travelers flitting back and forth between now and then.

Home now, I have a weekend to breathe and relax before I get back to the adulting stuff.  Since I quit the day job,  I find it's good to pay attention to the weekend otherwise the days all run together.

I'm not getting out enough and will have to attend to that. 

Georgia's gray and wet winter is delivering. Chores out of the way, I chill. 

Moments after I typed this, Jake called asking me to come fetch him and Charlie. There had been a  wreck. Everyone was cleared by EMTs on the scene. His truck looked pretty bad. I got to them in a half hour and waited there for Missy to come take them the rest of the way home. Life turns on a dime.

New pov

Before any wayfinding, the starting place ~ gratitude.

This instant? Grateful that this ancient Win7 Acer booted up and gave me access to the only graphics program I ever spent any time learning. PSP5 still gets my banners done! 

But a warning to me to not allow skills to rust. Stay busy with a wider array of tools and objectives.

Do you think that banner is a sunset or a sunrise?

the need for change

We pulled over when we saw them on the hill.

 I  rolled down the window and honked out a passable donkey "Howdy!  They left off snacking and trotted right up to the fence. No reply but, the swiveling ears. I dub them Colorado and Maine.

The first week of winter break behind us, I'll have a long weekend at home and in the studio, then back to the county.

Change is in the air. I'd make a list, but that's the kiss of death. The things I've been thinking will come to life. 

Meanwhile, I'm spending this evening with Stanley Tucci looking for Italy in all the damned kitchens and restaurants. In Umbria, a squadra of women hunt boars.

 

Christmas, ever bitter sweet

 

A deep dive

 

I

I watched "Maestro". I'll wait a while before I comment on the film.

  

    We spoke once. 

     How many of you can recall how rich and immediate a human voice could be on the phone? Real phones connected by wires and switches of copper presided over by women. The Operators.

 

It was a dark early winter evening. I connected a call somewhere in Manhattan. Three rings and a woman answered with a curt "Yes?" I sensed a secretary annoyed at having to work late. 

    "I have a person-to-person call for Leonard Bernstein," I pronounced it exactly like the caller had. 

   The woman said, "Who's calling?"

   That was none of her business because she wasn't Leonard Bernstein and this expensive service would not start earning for Ma Bell until the man himself was on the phone, but I had to be businesslike about it without being snotty. 

    "Is Mr. Bernstein available?"

She got the message and clunked the handset down.

   I knew who he was to a point. In 1969 I had little musical interests beyond Led Zeppelin, Santana, or the Stones. I had never heard his voice.

  

   "You got me out of the bath. This better be good." Wet or not, he lit a cigarette. His voice was thick and sexy.

    I went pro. "Mr. Bernstein?" 

 "Yes, my dear, put them on but I'd rather talk to you."

    

  How full of snappy comebacks do you think I was at twenty? Zip.

   As trained, I evaporated. Closed the switch, wrote down the time to the second, slotted the punch card, and took the next call. Smiling.