I'm good on thread for now and the river basket is overflowing. The problem is, I have to set cloth and thread aside for a while so I can prod the book to life.
But there's still plenty. I took all pending orders to the post office this morning so mailboxes across the country will be lighting up by the end of the week. Let me know when they arrive!
I'm going to call this group the Summer Run. This basket is actually heaped high now!
It's going to be days before I can start to curate sets of six and post pictures, so if you don't want to wait, and trust me to pick six (with a little coaching from you) email me with a little guidance of what your set should look like.
Or you can wait for the pictures.
I've lowered the price because times are strange and we could all use a little breathing room. Stitching shouldn't be a luxury.
It's too big to show in one piece. 84" on a side, not counting the teeth. But it's just the size I wanted. Now I can put away the duvet and feather quilt, which, nine nights out of ten, winds up on the floor.
At this point in the process, I'm going to use it as it. Let the pieced front and the muslin back get comfy and close without any pins or stitching.
Then, as the spirit moves me, I'll start stitching them together with some 12wt. Sulky cotton. Nothing crazy, four to six stitches per inch.
I need to remember to work with the backside to me so I can see what's going on. Stitching will be mostly lost in all that print on the front. Words? Spells? Song lyrics? Whatever comes to me at the time. For now, stitch needs to take a rest.
It covers the top of a king-size bed and reaches the floor on both sides. I really wanted it square, so some cutting and shuffling are in order.
At first, I was going to make the square by folding the length in half and seaming the three sides closed, but it's a bit wonky. Time to drag out the laser level.
Once all is on the square, I may consider that gray damask for the flip side. I'll pin them together first. See if it's too much weight. If they aren't too heavy together - this is just a chill chaser, not a winter blanket - I'll stitch on them together, see how the needling feels. More likely, I'll buy some unbleached muslin for the back. Keep things simple.
I invited three large damask tablecloths to the party. Two became primary and secondary table moppers, work surfaces that picked up the scatter from the thread dyeing process.
I almost forgot to fix both of them with soda ash.
I'm debating how to cut them up. Add them to the available scraps.
I'm going to start with fairly larges pieces, say 24" square, give or take. I'll iron them too. See the shine.
Here's a close-up of this one. The black didn't hold as well as I'd hoped.
It's been a long time since I've been so pleased with the fruits of a dyefest.
Keys to remember. Patience & Pacing. It's a lot of physical work in hot and sweaty conditions. Prep everything in the days before. Mix colors fresh, right after coffee. Label your colors! Good to know what works and what doesn't so there's no waste in the next go-round. Measure if that's the way your soul pinches you. I don't.
Wait until after midday to begin. Tent or hat a must.
Music!
I put two large damask tablecloths down on the work surface. They are informed by spills and scatter.
They will need a splash of soda ash water if you want to keep the color. Or not, they can come to the next dyefest for a rematch.
The new colors made a big difference. Cotton Candy and Hot Pink jumped right in and set things afire!
The blues ran true. Lapis a strong player. I never buy green. Greens are born.
So all of this, cloth and thread, sat under the rising Strawberry moon until a thunderstorm swallowed it whole. They rinsed in the rain, then baked in the humidity the next day. More rain, all the while steeping in the scent of my neighbor's magnolias.
I'm still deciding what to call this batch. It will come to me while I'm winding them off.
Right after this sunset, the pink moon peeked over the opposite horizon for a few minutes before it was swallowed whole by a thunderstorm. Cloth and thread remain out in the elements until tomorrow. A very special batch.
I'm planning a big dye day tomorrow, pacing myself. Lots of thread and cloth are already prepped and waiting. These are new colors. I will be using some of the old as well and blends, of course. I rarely use colors "straight out of the can".
I will be dyeing about a dozen skeins of that cotton/silk twist.
There will be black and white, like bakery thread, a range of pinks and greens (missing from my personal stash).
Are there colors/blends you've been wanting to see? Leave your suggestions in the comments.
A morning spent waiting for something else has produced this. Lighter and bigger than I thought while working at the machine.
I may slice and splice once or twice. There's another quarter with a few more dashes of color, but I don't think I'll have enough to do both sides this way. Some other cloth and manner will step in.
When both sides are done, I'm thinking I may overdye them. One in saffron the other turquoise. Cohesion.
No batting, just front, and back that will be stitched together with my running quarter that never, ever goes in a straight line. Think of spaghetti. But not with the Dirty Threads. I have spools of 12 weight Sulky cotton that flies through the cloth with a slash of Thread Heaven aboard. It stands up to use and laundering best.
...is getting an upgrade. (In case you don't know, my Dixie Mink is an oversized, denim workshirt.)
Salem has taken to hiding in my cloth closet, nesting up in a small basket that held a few almost finished badges. I took them out, taped off the cat hair (she's a first-class shedder) and I'm in the process of stitching my own gang colors on each sleeve.
For the moment, I've abandoned the robe notion. All these weeks of isolation, I've been wearing a few long, sleeveless gowns that I cobbled together from scraps. That wonderful, soft Provence cotton. The last thing I need is another "my eyes only" garment.
If I'm to keep living I want to declare a few things in public. Still contemplating what to put on the center back.
I live in a suburb of Atlanta, which I'm sure you know is in turmoil, along with other American cities, in response to the murders of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd.
Wearing " I Can't Breathe" is what I feel, but do I have the right?
The only thing that gives me any hope is VOTE.
We ventured out yesterday. Charlie has a pretty good grasp of what's going on and was eager to be my masked Ninja. He's really too big to be riding in the cart, but for both of us, it's safest. Inside the front entrance of every Publix, there is a bench that he climbs to get in and out of the buggy because I can no longer lift him.
This reaction came when a man who was not wearing a mask, cut in front of us as we observed the Please Stand Here tapes on the floor. Charlie is still five and he gets it.
The woman waiting on us in the deli knows us well enough that she doesn't have to ask what we want. We all watched the man as he walked off. She shook her head. I said it for her, not quite loud enough for the man to hear because I was with Charlie.
"Asshole".
Saving this one for later. I start a new shift today. 5pm to 1:30am. The sweet spot of the night. Most of my adult life, I've chosen to work lates. That's when interesting things and people are happening. I don't know how nine to fivers can stand the boredom.
BUT, at the moment, there has been an influx of calls from the most selfish, entitled and rude people I've had to interact with since I was a telephone operator for AT&T. It's been a long time since anyone has opened a conversation with "Listen, bitch." My easiest reply is no reply at all. A supervisor once called my silences "New York Deadly". Sometimes I remind people that they are being recorded. That gets me a hasty hangup or both verbal barrels in a new volley of abuse. Either way, I win.
I'm always grateful that I don't have to go home to that person whose life is in the shitter because their gym is still closed and I can't tell them when it will reopen.
On balance, many people ask how I am faring. They are glad to hear that I work from home, and generally want to engage in any kind of conversation beyond the business at hand. We laugh to hear each other's cats or dogs demanding attention. We aren't supposed to, but I do. It's the night, after all.
Now we're having fun. Thanks, Liz, for reminding me that we are not knitting. It doesn't matter if the pieces are two to four feet. It's all good. ⭐⭐⭐ I can remember gnashing my teeth for want of just six or seven inches of that certain green I was using.
Beyond the cross-stitch that my grandmother tasked me with when I was five (with these same, maple hoops) I'm self-taught. Pretty sure I never invented anything that didn't already have a proper name.
I call this stitch the wrapped rope, which is likely something I lifted from a sailing tutorial.
It's a simple way to make a stitched line show up better, cast its own shadow.
Here I'm using three strands of DMC cotton and a single strand of metallic machine thread for a little sparkle, all four threads doubled and knotted. The main stitch is the simplest split stitch.
Go slow if you fool with that metallic stuff. It heats up with too much friction and tends to snarl.
When I'm taking a curve, I've learned to make the stitches a little bit smaller to preserve the line. Sometimes I draw the letters on the cloth with a pencil. Sometimes I wing it. Making the decision to STOP and back out a stitch that didn't sit right is a moment to moment thing. You'll be glad you did it.
Once you have your line, wrap it by sliding the need under each stitch at a 45-degree angle in the direction of the curve. Try to not catch the cloth underneath. There's little resistance, so this part tends to go quickly but snarls always lurk, so take each one slowly. Admire how cool it looks.
Sometimes I cut the thread down to just three strands of DMC if the letters are small or space is tight and I want to reduce bulk.
Play with it, see what you like, what you don't.
If you have questions, I'll watch the comments and get back to you.
It's pretty much finished except for a little punctuation and getting turned into a little pillow. I'd love to find a feather pillow to fit it. And some herbs to stuff inside. A dream pillow.
I've been floundering lately, so I've cast this circle for myself.
The last thing I did here was promise a stitch tutorial. I took a clutch of pictures that turned out crappy.
Then, LIFE, and boy, am I out of practice and shape for being Nana! It's disturbing how much that skillset (and the flesh) has deteriorated since BC (need I explain?)
No excuses, unless you count sloth & ennui.
And where do I get off lecturing a five-year-old on the dangers of uttering the words "I'm bored" ?
In the first picture we are parked across the street from a construction site where, right at the edge of the road, a squad of excavators and dumptrucks were frantically laying waste to the countryside for who knows what. They were trenching and laying yard-wide pipes, building mountains, climbing them precariously, then knocking them down - so something huge. We were both fascinated for about 20 minutes.
I don't know what I would have done without the assistance of his uncle. Colin is passing through a second child/teen hood with the video games, et al that he and his brother did without when they were kids and such stuff out of reach, and thank goodness.
I know y'all must be sick of seeing these by now, but this was yesterday. Today they are gone. I haven't looked yet but there was a pretty heavy rainstorm in the last few hours. I hope the wind didn't knock the vase over.
Salem and I were waiting for a friend to arrive. After much sweat, swearing, and soil stabbing, the irises have all been rehomed to make room for my annual extravagance of annuals and anything else I can coax out of the dirt from seed. Note demon Baily at 3 o'clock preparing to raid our tranquility.
Earlier in the day, I continued the studio rummaging turned up actual elastic, both quarter and half-inch, and a bunch of small shreds that had been bundled together with what intent I don't
recall. I do remember that Timeless Treasures check was once a two-yard cut. It made me dizzy to look at then and now. This is all that's left of it.
work continues here. LESSON. I should have done a mockup on paper instead of scribbling directly onto the cloth. The words and lines are crowded, and the letterforms are too studied, but it's growing on me.
