Saturday on the dye deck

 I'm not doing any marathons anymore. A full day of dyeing just kicks my ass to the point where I'm useless the next day. This much is manageable. And because I have to work tonight, there will be no sneak peeks. These panels are going to cook out there the 85 degree Heat until tomorrow. Supreme batching.

This lot is mostly plain cotton. There were several yards of varying weights of muslin. A few more of those linen tea towels (there must be two dozen of them) and a cotton nightgown with a fancy cutwork  yoke and shoulder straps. I may wind up keeping that for myself.

just a toe in the water

 

a small sample of nearly fifty pounds of vintage cloth.

Not that I had any doubts, but all of this cloth will take whatever color I give it - voraciously.

Most of these things are linen of varying weights and weaves. Yardage. Hand towels, table drapes, decorative things all oddly unused. I'm still thinking much of it was a bridal trousseau for a bride who may have been left at the altar.

This dark piece is a very odd apron, made to pin at the shoulders rather than tie. 

  

These pieces have been in clean, dry storage for thirty or forty years. Maybe more. When I opened the boxes, the fragrance (I'm being nice here) reminded me instantly of several of my Italian aunts. Dusty, sweet and cloying. The fragrance "Maja" comes to mind. I was on a mission to expunge the odor. 

Machine washing in Synthrapol, Dawn, and baking soda almost did it. 24 hours in the sunshine and fresh air did more.

A long dye batching overnight on the deck, then another hot and frothy machine wash. Another 24 hours on the line finished the job. If you think I'm ironing this stuff, you're crazy. It's as tough and wrinkly as my Italian aunties were.

Going forward, I'm just going to spew this stuff around the deck and leave the heavy lifting to the weather. 

catching a break, a breath, and a wave

 

Cold, cold this morning. I left the heat shut down because of the Mold Men monkey business in the room below mine. They get to wear hazmat suits. I get to tape up all the vents and electrical outlets and worry myself baldheaded over where each cat is and what's that smell? 

 

They came to retest, took back their nifty hepa filter machines, and swore we'd pass. The appraiser was here, took some more pictures with a trainee in tow.

It's all out of my control now, but my real worry for the day was Charlie getting major dental work done that needed anesthesia. What's a Nana to do about that but fret.

He was FINE. Mom and Dad by his side and came by today to show me all his silver choppers. He's FINE.

Early this morning I found this piece in the project bag. It had a big maybe on it when I tucked it away. After minimal fiddling, this morning I gave it the green light and basted it while listening to some music with (almost) no thoughts in my head. As if.

A secondary character gets called up to The Show. (It turns out that Lady Gray, isn't a lady at all and we are told it's none of our damned business what is under her dress. Smack.) ---this is what writers do.

These are the last shreds of damask in my stash. I'm so hoping the new arrivals will be suitable for the tricks I want to teach them.

There are a few new colors that hitchhiked here along with some soy wax from Dharmatrading. There will be resisting!

This freckled cloth is so delicate and soft. It feels like baby skin. 

Strange business today. After Jake and Charlie left, Sweetie and I tucked ourselves in for the mandatory siesta (I work until 12:15am).  Twenty minutes into my allotted hour, a solid thump on the front step woke me. I'm expecting two big boxes of cloth from NY so I staggered downstairs to thank the delivery person. Opened the door. Nothing. Hmm. I went back upstairs to see if the truck was still in the driveway. Nothing. A second thump from below. Again, nothing on the doorstep. Assuming my ears were failing to report properly, I walked around the house looking for the source of the sound.  My imagination? Why would anticipation wake me from a much-needed nap.

A call to my source for tracking numbers assured me that the boxes were still on the camels plodding their way here, ETA Monday evening. 

The sounds? To be continued. I really want the parrot. You know the one.

Good night all.

not quite ennui

 

I feel like this sunset. Unsettled. The ongoing mortgage refinancing saga is exhausting. I hate it. It all reminds me of how completely spoiled I was when Jim handled this kind of thing. Remodeling, replacing appliances, anything like that. I was sent away - the beach, a friend's place, hotel, didn't matter. I came home when the last of the sawdust was swept up, my only job was to enjoy the end results and praise the GC, of course. 

Our weather here doesn't know whether to shit or go blind. I put off planting seeds until this past weekend. I hope the indigos are hardy. I still don't know what I plan to do with it if it survives living in a 20-gallon fiber tub. 

Tomorrow I'm going looking for more of these, #$%@&!  

Have you ever had a word that simply skitters out of your brain like a drop of water on a hot skillet?? PURSLANE! It's purslane. I'm tempted to get a lovely wristlet tattooed on with purslane clutched in the dragon's claws, the flowers around his neck. 

I ran out in the dark and rain Monday night to cut these and bring them in before they got knocked flat. I forgot about the ants. A small troop of them were marching around on the kitchen table all going "WTF?" as I trimmed leaves and arranged the stems. I just let them be. The window was open. Ants are smart. I also forgot about the heavy perfume. Whew, these gals are redolent. 

I don't think the darker pinks have set any buds this year. The garden needs a bunch of TLC and a few bags of Black Cow. 

We were hoping to get the truck up and running. It cranked and ran, beautifully and smoothly, but today, Jake found something leaking wrongly. Something that may be a bigger pain in the ass than we anticipated. At what fine delicate point do I stop throwing good money after bad? 

I spent some time making some much-needed changes to the manuscript while the nuts and bolts of self-publishing continue to reveal themselves as pesky, complicated, but not unsolvable. I'm just not in the damn mood. One at a time, questions will be answered.

In the meantime, we live life.

1st dibs

 

I only kept three this time and I hid them away. For now.

The rest are in the store. 

Changing

 

I wasted a lot of time looking for words yesterday. Words I couldn't put my fingers on. I have to write a short bio for the back of my book and I'm starting to consider cooking up some high, handsome bullshit.

Who am I and why should it matter to readers? I've been sharing bits and pieces of myself on the web for years. If a reader is interested, they won't have much trouble finding out more about me if they can remember how to spell my last name.

Some time in the future, I'll be restricting access to this blog - some kind of subscription thing, I don't know what yet. I'll make it as painless as possible so I can go on being me, here. (Oh, the hubris!)

Lost glasses found!  Where else, but in the toy basket in the back seat of my car. We had a fine afternoon complete with gas station pretzels and blue Gatorade. Dear boy picked all the salt off a bit of pretzel "So your feet won't explode."

 Soon, he will be able to read to me as easily as I read to him. 

No PT today.  I was going to cancel because bad, lazy reasons when I received a message that my instructor has had a death in the family. Another beloved, distant elder cut down by COVID. 

Too many empty chairs in the world. 

second chances

 

Making Dirty Threads is not science. There are so many variables. Forget one thing and you get some epic fails. 

Too muddy, splotchy, pale. Bad color choices. Dyes (the way I use them) are a lot like pottery glazes. What you see in the container is rarely what you get once things are rinsed and dried.

So I set aside the Uglies and when the spirit moves me, I give them another run. The new process is working out well, especially for do-overs.

This bunch was a minute of my frazzled patience away from being cut off the cards. One vicious swipe down the center with the big shears into a pile of two inch strings to go into the trash. 

I took the time to save them and I'm glad I did. They'll be up in the store shortly. 

But today is for other things. Family and home. Balm and bane. 

It's a beautiful day. Nothing will grow here but grass, there's so little sun. The mailbox garden will be exploding with color within the week, fingers crossed.

Beaches

 That's the title of the piece in the header. I have to dig it up and take a closer look. Try to recapture a little of the ease, the relaxed-ness of it.  

This week had the potential stress level of burning me bald-headed, but I've managed to hold the line against imaginary bullshit and future projections. Deal with stuff moment to moment. 

After missing last week, yesterday's aqua therapy session left me jelly-legged and tomorrow promises more of the same. Focusing on the exercises -not just going through the motions- will be worth the work. It's all about the Core.

The last thing I stitched was so tight, so overwrought it makes my hands and head hurt just to look at it. There are flames in its future. A ritual cleansing. I can't start anything new until then.

There is a raft, a caravan, of vintage cloth in my future. The provenance connected to my history. A strange circle of time and ownership and a reminder of the futility of holding Things precious. More when I have something to hold.

the dirty thread trade...

 

...is heating up.  Not too many sets left, but take heart. Georgia weather is heating up too.

Although a lot of backyard gardeners are mourning the loss of a round of seedlings thanks to a near freeze, all my seeds are still in their paper packets. Smart? No, just no time to get things done.

After the success of last year's herbal horticultural intensive, I'm ready to try something new and have seeds for both Japanese and Ossabow Island indigo.

This Wednesday the weather bug is showing mid-80s with partial sun, so you know where I will be - out on the burning dye deck. 

I'm trying out some new production processes that, so far, are a lot more ergonomically friendly for me. Time will tell.

    Now that I've gotten the blurbs where I want them, I'm reckoning with a much-needed epilogue for Prophets Tango. Something tasty that will sew up a few minor loose ends and offer a taste of the sequel to be conjured up like a  Demon's Dance. 

This is the fun stuff!

Spill

 

I had a hard time photographing this one when it was dry. There's a green glow that the camera just doesn't pick up. Maybe it's my eyes.

I'll dig around for its provenance and original title, then repost pictures of it dry. 

It was on the floor in the closet. Seemed to be asking for action, so I tossed it in the washer. Warm water, a little detergent, gentle cycle. 

My only concern is that the gold had a trace of metallic in it but acrylic paint will outlive cockroaches. I'll know more when it's dry.

Found these pictures taken prior to shipping. My old Canon A95 was a gem when it came to getting colors right.  My cell phone, not so much, and I hate fiddling with filters. It feels like cheating.

Update. Seems like "Spill"  (56x43 2011), has done a little traveling. I should have kept better track of this stuff.

August 11 - September 10, 2011

ART QUILTS LOWELL 2011: The Sea
An exhibition of the finest art quilts in Canada and the United States. This year the theme is "The Sea".

Opening Reception: Saturday, August 13, 3 - 5 pm, during the Lowell Quilt Festival.

Juror: Gerald Roy, Member, Executive Board, National Quilt Museum, Paducah, KY; Chair, Acquisitions Committee; Member, of National Advisory Board, Administrator, Quilt Appraisal Certification Program - American Quilters Society, Paducah, KY; Acquisitions Board: New England Quilt Museum, Lowell, MA.

Today, quilts are finally overcoming their old-fashioned reputation. Once perceived as blocklike, follow-the-rules fabric sandwiches, contemporary art quilts — with the emphasis on art — break the conventional code.

The quilt artist seeks to innovate by applying art principles and art experience from other areas like drawing, painting, and sculpting as well as working with the tactile richness of fabric and adding the textures of quilting stitches.

As defined by The Art Quilt Association, "The contemporary art quilt is an original exploration of a concept rather than a traditional pattern. It experiments with textile manipulation, color, texture, and a diversity of mixed media." 

The concept for this year's Art Quilts Lowell at the Brush Gallery in Lowell is The Sea and there is a remarkable breadth of interpretation and media by 31 artists from all over the US and Canada.

 

This Year's Artists

Betty Busby - NM Victoria Carr - MA Gerrie Congdon - OR Lisa M. Corson - CT Nancy Crasco - MA Grace Errea - CA Diane Franklin - MA Sandy Gregg - MA Carol Anne Grotrian - MA Beverly Hertler - NJ Rosemary Hoffenberg - MA Lauren Horowitz - NY Janice Jones - MA Deborah Lacativa - GA Susan Lenz - SC

Ingrid Lincoln - Manitoba Valerie Maser-Flanagan - MA Jeanelle McCall - TX Lorie McCown - VA Penny Prudden Myles - MA Suzanne R. Neusner - NY Gay Ousley - TX Gladys A. Perkins - MA Wen Redmond - NH Susan M. Rouleau - SD Norma Schlager - CT Carolyn Spiegel - NY Pamela A Stanton - MA Carol Ann Waugh - CO Diane Wright - CT -

beleaguered

Charlie and I both had sore throats over the weekend. His was bad enough to stay home from school and have a doctor verify that it was not strep. "Just something viral going around" is not the comfort that it was back in the day.  Still, with coddling and cartoons, he's bounced back. Me, a step behind him.

In the midst of this, I was trying to finish up the three blurbs I need for the book, one for each Season. Imagine trying to sum up 300 pages in under 200 words. Advertising - that's all it is - is a mind game that will make you crazy. Now I know what Don Draper's problem really was.               

I stared at a blank page for four days just trying to come up with one or two sentences. When I gave up looking, the solution crept into a dream. I scribble a few words on the back of my voided stimulus check. I think I've got it. 

Then my laptop went belly up! Refusing to succumb to planned obsolescence, I dug in my heels, protected my files, and turned that balky bitch inside out. Delete this, copy that, and download a WTF while I'm at it. The damn thing actually reverted to Windows 7 from 10. Devils inside?  I fixed it, but I'll never trust it again. As soon as I have a real hour, I'm getting after the restoration of that Remington Model 1. 

Let's add a little more drama. We have MOLD downstairs. No shit! Doesn't everyone in Georgia have mold somewhere? The Mold Men will be here to suck it up on Monday. All this mess in service of an attempt at a mortgage refinance. Fun and games with numbers on paper. I'd rather eat dirt.

Today I managed to get a few more sets of thread up in the store and Fat Baggies are back.

SOLD🌞CC

T

sky watching

 For those of you who don't waste time on FB, I post these most evenings. Colin works at a small airport nearby with the best views of the sky. These were taken minutes apart. 

One of these nights, I'm going up there with a camp chair and just sit out on the ramp and watch. Wait for the moon to rise and the stars to come out. 

caesura

 

A pause. Hopefully one that refreshes and restores.

Priorities reordered.

Back in a few.

derailed

 Just basted the parts I wanted to see again. Not fit to handle scissors.

What I thought would be a routine trip to the dentist turned into a marathon. I won't bore you with the details. Lots and lots of novocaine and whatever else they give you left me not in charge. Driving through Lalaland on autopilot with the music up loud will get you lost. It was a beautiful day for tooling around wondering wtf I was. Hungry but knowing there was no way I could eat anything. 

Once I finally got home, I sat with the cloth and rooted through my stash for a few hours. It's a mess in there now. I'll clean up sober.

 

Pool day

Not quite ready for. Close-up, Mr. Demille.

Cleanout is going to be some crusty business this year. I'm just happy to see the water level holding.

I had my first aquatherapy session at a swank fitness club today.

Muscles I haven't used in years are aggravated. 

This technical side trip worked out well.
 

Later, best part of the day. We have Four-leaf clover.

gardening madness

 

Here was my big excitement for the weekend. The garden place. I'm admiring my own restraint. No fooling around with any vegetables this year.  Only came away with a Carolina Jasmine and some moonflower seeds for the upcoming arbor. I'm thinking about some kind of mosquito netting and proper seating so I can spend more time out there. More about that in future posts.

I lost half an hour looking for a photo from the film "The Postman" - I'm a sucker for Kevin Costner - but couldn't find the one I wanted, where he comes riding by to snatch a letter out of a little boys hand.

 I would be only too happy to stand at the top of my driveway to hand off my letters and packages to someone trampling by on horseback. Tomorrow it will be me going to the post office. 

On the runway

 

The first. *Not* typical of the rest, just first readied because there was some special handling. 

I know I'm going to need more along these lines.

Sets of six are up here.

 What are you looking for? Eclectic? Close cousins? 

Regrets. International customers, 

The LOSS rate of small packages both in and out of the US is still staggering. The bottleneck seems to be US customs. I'm still doing research, but it may be a bit longer before I'm comfortable shipping overseas. 

Conjuring Dirty Thread- the Pixies

 

That's right! It's finally TIME!  The first 2021 dyefest on the Lawrenceville  Frankenstein Burning Dyedeck is underway.

(Not this lot. These are long gone. But you get the picture.) 

The blanks are in the magic sauce. There are 2 yards of fairy weight linen on the work table and that Ralph Lauren top sheet waiting to receive them as they get their Blessings.

If you have a color in mind, let me know. The colors won't fly until the sun grins over the yardarm. 

This batch of Dirty Threads named in honor of yet another unsung woman, Pamela Colman-Smith, also known as Pixie. She is responsible for the artwork on the Tarot that most are familiar with, my home deck, the Rider-Waite. 

Pixie may well find her way into my next novel.

Down in the kitchen making Walt & Jesse proud.

summer soon

 

Good things from small packages. The cat crew helped me find my missing address book by barfing in the small traveling stitching bag and knocking another basket over in the process. 

The mail brought small, tender wonders. 

There is so much going on right now that if I let it, my head would spin. Instead, I fix my eyes on the near future. Hyacinth vines and flowers overhead shivering with honeybees.

Years ago, Jim turned a 10x10 slab of concrete into a haven by building an arbor. These vines and others covered it, the blossoms hanging down. Roses climbed up the outside. All I had to do was give water and enjoy. 

I'll build a new one, sit under it, stitch and write. Like George Washington and his figs. 

We have a winner!

  There were 81 entrants! Thank you all for playing!