Story

"...i am so so Done with this scene in this country...just so Done
with it, I pledge my allegiance to cloth and thread to
women who make things...colors, cloth, paper, children, families,
gardens, meals that feed, warm places for animals, for the
good men in their lives that give back, that make lives for the
good men and hold them up..."

 

A quote from a friend. I'm sure many of us are feeling this.

I was domesticating myself yesterday, something I only do when what I really want is to be breaking things. Wreaking havoc. There was a week's worth of dirty dishes, all my everyday clothes in the laundry, etc. I was listening to the speeches before the first vote.
I broke a plate and cut my finger.
I used HOT water on the clothes.
But my mind went elsewhere and I organized and wrote the next book in my head. Got the notes all down. Yes, bits and pieces are already around, but like bits and pieces of cloth, they need to be given purpose. A point. Listening to the speeches before the first vote, my story took wing.

Women have more power than they know.

Maybe you have stories?

Here are some curated groups of cloth and thread. A place to start. Or maybe just a place to escape to.

the list

Way back in '92 I was working for AT&T as a telephone operator. Good money and benefits. Not a bad job if you were thick-skinned and unconcerned with a stranger's opinion. I personally found the daily quota of assholes amusing, but at any time, up to 20% of the crew was out on stress disability. Did I have something missing, or something extra? I never figured it out.

Then AT&T dropped the bomb. Our office was closing. We could quit, retired (if eligible) or relocate - take "lateral" positions in Pleasanton, CA, Silver Spring MD, or Atlanta. I forget how much notice we had. Months.

They brought in outside soft skills coaches and counselors. The union helped some I recall. There was a career counselor. An Episcopal minister with a handful of degrees in something. I can only suppose he was qualified to put us through a battery of tests...the kind of thing all over FB these days. "What you should be when you grow up". That sort of thing. At some point, we were asked to write our top three job choices (?) on a blackboard. I wrote:

Phone Slut
Writer
Supreme Court Judge

Two out of three ain't bad, to quote Meat Loaf.

weeks fly by

A piece from the last (I swear) dyefest. There was a nice clutch of threads too. None of it posted yet. I may make up some bundles tomorrow.

I've been putting in what feels like 18 hour days.

A new project on the horizon, too.

No school today, so I spent it artfully in good company.

a day out of time

Today is the first weekday since school started (August 6 down here) that I wasn't up before dawn to get Charlie up, fed and off to school. They have some family time today and I got to sleep in. Like I could.

I watched the full moon dance through the trees, consulted Sweetie on the state of her sandbox, made coffee and got on with it. My place, my things, even myself have been so neglected for so long in favor of other projects, a morning shower felt bizarre.

Now I'm in the studio looking over the cloth and threads that got rinsed in the light pass that Florence gave us. There's been no rain since and nature is parched. But it's clouded over with showers promised. I have a post office run, then I'll be back. I need to clear the design walls. To make way.  Go through these things and decide if and what to keep for future dreaming.

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Running with it

One more day of summer. We heard they might keep the pool open another week or so if the warm weather holds. I'll take what I can get. This was coupled with a Braves win - in fact they swept Philadelphia.

Then a very hedonistic trip to Whole Foods. Sweet Sunday. I also got some decent words on a page. But first...a nap.

fun with sick days

This is where the contamination began, but I wouldn't trade that long, lazy Wednesday. He'd spent the whole night throwing up and was reluctant, afraid to eat. We went through a lot of juice and a lot of low key kids tv even though it was glorious outside. A brief car ride made him green.

The next morning, I was my turn. No pictures, please.

Late in the second day, I took my laptop outside for some real air, but it was still very hot in the sun and the glare just didn't work.

Still, it was pretty out after a full day and night in my dark bedroom. Waking up on serious "E" was interesting too. Something I may try with intent, fasting.








I carried these tiny things around for a while, kidded myself that I would make them into a book. If they travel anywhere, I promised to sterilize them first. A strong sneeze would blow them away, they are so delicate, eight x four inches?

Then fretted about whether or not this purchase would arrive alive. It did. I went two days without coffee because there was no point in consuming it, but we've gone without power here often. We still have wires strung on poles and a lot of old, drought-ill trees in the area. The current cheap coffee maker is losing its grip on "hot" and I'm sick of shelling out for a new one every two years.  When we lose power,  I will still be cooking with gas and there WILL be coffee!

Fever lifts, circles, then returns.   I miss someone holding my hair.

That was sometime yesterday. I don't remember. Spent Wednesday with Charlie who was home from school due to a stomach virus that had him barfing through the night. He was chipper and back to school the next morning, I didn't fare as well.

It felt like the flu. Symptoms linger a bit today, Friday. I'm sure the worst is over.

L'chaim!

I found a better location in the library. Those are herbs and lettuces in a hydroponic garden. They harvest every so often. Greens going to a food co-op somewhere.

The machine makes a distant gurgling sound, like a brook. It also makes me have to get up and pee hourly. Not a bad thing.

Writing here, ten to one each day. It's going well. I know we pay taxes, but the library should put out a tip jar somewhere for the use of this beautiful place.

Jimmy's friend Donald was still a bachelor when he came to our wedding in June, 1977. He probably stopped off at a grocery store on the way to nab us a gift, a lovely Dieffenbachia which we named Louie. Through the years, I've divided it, cut it back, given away sections - over and over.

This spring I repotted it for the first time in many years. Poor thing was a mess. Way down in the bottom of the pot was this shriveled, hairy, black kernel. I wasn't even sure what it was, but I dropped it in an empty pot and used the end of the potting soil to cover it. Tucked the pot in a dark corner with the Christmas cactii.  Just the other day, I found this. L'chaim!

June 4, 1977

Charlie Monday

This is just the Best!

Looks like he's mastered the fine art of Monday.

just a little Florence here

A little wet-cloth porn for all the textilians. I hatched this one out to see what might be going on and because I have no idea when I'll be able to mess around with the rest of these.

From the looks of the weather map, we are in for a week of this damp crap.

I started early but I got caught in the light rain anyway and just kept on working. Clean-up is cut to a minimum.

waiting for the wind & rain

Setting up for a gorgeous one a day or so ahead of Hurricane Florence dragging her wet skirts over the ATL. Oh, we'll get more rain than we need at once, hopefully, not too much wind for the tired stressed out trees.

It's hot and humid as hell. I should be headed for the pool, but I'm here in the library stalling about putting the hard eyes and the sharp ax to the last half-dozen scenes of my book. Even though I wrote the closing scenes over a year ago, this revision/rewrite is coming to a close, and, although I know there will be more, the process is giving me pangs. I dawdle, I procrastinate - I've even dug up an old short story (really an excerpt from the next book) and prettied it up for submittal to a short story contest. Deadlines and restrictions. What to leave in, what to take out...(thanks Bob)

I was in Kroger, supposed to be buying batteries (I refuse to believe those are D cells in that thing!) and what did I buy instead? A dozen quart mason jars. I also found a small tub of soda ash tumbling around in the trunk of the car. What's that you say? Too busy dyeing thread and cloth to write? What could be next? Stitching? These old pictures gift me a lot of vicarious comforts. The known is sweet.

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