Shifted

Our Sunday breakfast didn't pan out. Nobody had an appetite.

We look a little shot. Me, hungover from not enough sleep. Charlie, not up to himself either. Once we got out from under the spell of a little Lego and "Stickman" on TV, it was warmer outside than inside, and we headed down the block for the tiny playground someone installed on a wedge of county property in the neighborhood.

We were about halfway there when he wrapped his arm around my leg and said, "There's something in my ear hurting me."
That and the boogers point to a low-key Charlie Monday tomorrow. We'll see what fun we can wring from the day.

away

...if only for a day. No stitching, no writing or editing. I did take a book, "Tell the Wolves I'm Home"
So far, so good.

Lake Lanier, only an hour away. It's not the ocean, but on a beautiful day like today, I'll take it.

A man-made reservoir, the rocks along the shore seem to come from another planet.
Today, I started a rock collection for Charlie. Rocks big enough that he cannot throw them.









I'm usually good with rocks. I have no idea what this beauty is, but I'm pretty sure the red spot is a garnet.  This is about the size of a brick.

Warmth

this next round of threads will include a warmer spectrum

a hot Charlie Monday

I accidentally left my cell phone at my son's house yesterday after spending a day with Charlie. It was a tough day for all parties.

We went to the park and had a good time, but when it was time to go, he gave me a dose of the Toddler From Hell. He didn't want to leave and was mad about not having a vote.

I did what I did when his father and uncle were that age- said, "See ya!" and walked away, heart lurching. It took him ten paces to stop asserting himself and call for me.
     "Nana! Don't leave me!"
I turned around and told him,
     "I'll never leave you, Charlie, you just have to catch up to me is all." And I put down my bag and waited for him.

He did, but he'd worked himself up into a fit of crying that persisted the blessedly short time it took to get back home. A quick wash and a snack with Curious George and he was fine. But we will talk about it next time I see him because I know he'll remember it. I just want to be sure he remembers the instruction and not the fear.

Vigil continues

The line at the post office was ridiculous today. I gave up and went to the park.

My timing for everything has been off lately. As in the "What's today?" kind of off.  Comes from working weekends and late nights at the change of seasons, I think.

Writing has come to a full stop. A necessary one, although stories still spin in my head. After a day with Charlie yesterday I needed A. a serious nap, ill-advised at 6pm, but it was that or just go to bed for the night, and B., to do something different that did not involve writing, editing, reading or second-guessing my existence.

I chose stitch, and this piece has been hanging on the design wall, dusty and bothering me in its unfinished state. It was started back when Jimmy was first diagnosed and I clung to it like a life raft some days. It was also connected with "Band of Brothers" on Netflix which we were watching together at the time so I put that on TV last night because I recalled that I liked the music.

The first episode was about soldiers training to become paratroopers and I remember Jim chuckling and saying how little had changed about that aspect of the service. When he was awarded his jump wings, they were pounded to his chest, the prongs deliberately drawing blood.

Jim was proud of his army service and I think he would be pretty pissed off over the state of our leadership. Like many, he would mist up at the national anthem, but I believe he would also be okay with taking a knee. That it's not about a damn song or a piece of cloth, but human decency. He was nobody's fool and would call bullshit out loud no matter who was leaking it. He was a good and decent person before all else. Shit, I miss him.

space out of time

taking some time this evening to bring the dirty threads to some unfinished work.

.

writing about it

"All the colors of the waking world were sucked into the tiny campfire and thrown up to the stars in a gush."

excerpt from "The Monkeytown Murders"

Dirty Threads ready to rock

..the Cassinis
and Those Who Stand and Wait
are up and ready to go here

Cost me a pint of blood to the friggin' mosquitos!!




And this happened today.

Basis

The groundcloth for the Cassini threads. Project potential limitless.

do-overs

Now, this is what I had in mind!

It took two passes, but it was worth the trouble. This is the Cassini group.

I'll label and post them tomorrow in the store.

Sunday doings

There was a late-night chemical miscalculation and the hair went from Brass Monkey Blond to Mouse's Ass Brown. I worked until after midnight but was awakened before daybreak by drunken Mariachi Karaoke from the crack farm one block over.

Still in mourning for Cassini, I decided honest work would be good, so I went back into Revision Hell with the current WIP. After a couple of aimless hours, I've concluded that it is a steaming pile of shit! Many tasty little turds, nonetheless, shit.

Since I have to be back on the day-job clock at four, combinations of excess alcohol, illegal drugs, or reckless sex with trolls are off the self-pity menu. The solution? Jumped in the Flash and motored to Publix for Red Velvet Cake and Coffee ice cream. I'll drape the mirrors in black, take a nap, and start fresh tomorrow.

Around all that mess, these:

Wearable..

                  Only time will tell. A couple hours, give or take. (JS. That's you on the right)

We'll take another look tomorrow when they are dry. The one on the left, mine, is a lot greener than I like, but a yellow base what else could I expect. I have a remedy in mind. The other is just Carnival Time!

tooling up for color

Look at these huge crystals! Rock salt for ice cream with facets like big, smiling faces just waiting to get to work with the dyes. No more of that spendy pink Himalayan salad stuff. Used it all.

Packages and letters are away! Mollymook, Camperdown and Polvadera, heads up! A week to ten days, give or take.

My friends live in places with names as interesting as the new colors who arrived yesterday: Raven, Robins Egg, Avocado, BlueViolet, Daffodil and Golden Brown.

I have to figure out a whole new way to dye indoors. There will be a technicolor bathtub and sink. For fun, I'm going to make a smock, a large rug and a set of towels, all cotton, only for dye fests.

the fire this time

I was rummaging through the closet for something fall-ish to wear rather than kick the furnace up a notch or two. My go-to yoga pants from last year were crumpled in a corner, dusty but clean enough.

In one of the pockets, this scrap of a damask napkin dipped in fire. I took a dozen pictures of this scrap and got a dozen variations of red. This one comes closest, but it's still off. It's as if my eyes can look, but they can't really see.

Sometimes, all it takes is a scrap - this is hand size. Irregular.- to get a fire going.

I've had too many brands in the fire lately and it was easy to let a little brush with a hurricane dampen all of them. Time to get back to work.


If you've ordered something from me in the past few days, thanks for your patience. Although we suffered little real damage, we are still putting life back on track.

post storm

We are wet and bedraggled. Nothing blew away or fell down. So far. But we have power (now) heat and a roof over our heads that is in one piece, so no complaints.


I did get to spend half a day with Charlie before his folks got home early ahead of the worst of it.




No Publix, no park but a bunch of fun.

pre-storm still

It's too early in the day for selfies, but it's so beautiful outside. Chilly enough for the Magic Invisibility cloak. It is heavy with layering so I save it for sweater weather. It needs some work.

Yesterday, nature was holding her breath. Today the pulse has quickened. My wind chimes are tuning up.

The sky is clear, but the trees are anxious. Milling around gently now, opening their arms and faces to the warmth of the sun like they know they aren't going to see it for a while. For some of them, maybe never again. I wonder how much they know.

At some point in the day, I have to clear off the dye deck. stow stuff, invert small containers.
I also want to get some pieces out with dye so they can be rinsed by whatever remnant of the hurricane makes it way here.

preview

Elements became story

(I was plotting even back then. This post from February 2012)


"Grand Rêver"  2012

It's been pinned up to the design wall where I can see it while nothing much is in my head.

It provokes stories.
How words become sentences and sentences take on life when they gather to become story.

( turns out this is my 1400th post. Sheesh, what wind.  I could have had that bloody novel in the can by now!)

consumerism Tuesday

I'm off to the post office with Fat Baggie orders picked from this wildly bunch. I dug a big tote from deep in the back of the closet and uncovered some wild and dangerous characters.  There are three bags available and a whole new batch of screamin' dirty threads getting ready to post.

in the works

Despite a heavy round of what's now called "adulting" I prepped and dyed a new batch of dirty threads and while I was slinging crystals, I put this sleeveless linen blouse down on the deck boards to catch the overspray and scatter.  They have all been batching a while now.

I'm thinking through how I want to handle dyeing shirts. This is a test.


These are two views of the table cover that I've been using all season. It's a flannel fitted shit that probably has a high percentage of synthetic in it. I don't expect it to hold on to these colors. Sad that.