The cure

It's day four of this malady that a second test said is NOT covid, but I have my theory.

My body, equipped with vaccinations and booster, recognizes this invader and deals with it, but imperfectly.  The Rona symptoms (respiratory struggle, no sense of smell) come and go within hours. In between, it manifests as a five-alarm head cold.

Nothing for it but to sit out in the fresh air and sunshine and hand wash chunks of cloth. And nap when needed. 

Washing soda ash solution and excess dye out of cotton damask is labor intensive but tactilely satisfying. 

On the first pass, an orange-sized ball of cloth feels slimy and will jump out of your hands and splat color on your bare feet.

 Add just a drop of Dawn to the second pass and trouble doubles. The damask weave and the density of the fiber whip the detergent into foam.  

A hot water pass calms everything down and soothes my paws. Back to cold water for the final two or three passes to make sure the water runs clear. 

Then I snap them out and hang them over whatever; lawn chairs, railings, the old thyme and lavender shrubs (you may smell them.)

Then, the next day I found that a lot of these had dried to a pale mess so I set up for overdyeing. What caused the color loss? Old dye? Not enough time in the soda ash? There's no telling. 

 Washing these out today and then most of it will get blended into the Hot Scraps inventory. 

Next gen art

 I was sick enough this morning to cause me to take a covid test. Counting on that negative to be fact because I have stuff to do.

Charlie's school had a digital learning day today. As if all of the second grade wasn't enough. Five hours in a semi-darkened room at the laptop. Fifteen-minute assignments drag on past an hour because he hunts and pecks. 

The worst out of the way, I found a Learn To Type for Kids game and left him to it. He's delighted that his fingers have brains. What bothers me is that he'll never learn cursive. I will teach him his signature. With my favorite fountain pen. Eventually.

It was really fine out today. After the traditional lunch trip to Sonic, we hatched out the dirty threads. The Cassiels.  The reluctant angel from Wings of Desire. 

They were pretty murky looking at first. The carrying cloths all circles and stripes. 

Hopefully dry by this time tomorrow.

Wings of Desire

 Acknowledgments first. I could not have managed this day without Colin's help. If I had to go under the house to turn on the water, I'd still be down there sleeping with the spiders and snakes. And the heavy lifting? Toting shit to and fro? He handled all of it, on his day off. I am grateful.

The dirty threads are rolled up in these five little bundles. Poaching in the autumn sunshine. Forty, fifty? 

I swiped the name for this dye set from the film even though I'd never been able to sit through the original. The concept of spirits wanting more from eternity has been on my mind. 

Of course, you know I'm a drop-dead, cry-like-my-heart-is-breaking fan of the American version from '98, City of Angels with Nick Cage, Meg Ryan, Denis Franz, and Andre Braugher.  It's one of those movies I haven't rewatched in ages because it just turns me inside out.

Beyond the emotional workout, I desired different things from the colors this time. I wanted greens that lurked in the weeds. Ocean and sky blues, inky purples, and rotting pumpkins. But you know how it is with wet cloth, so we'll all just have to wait until late tomorrow. 

All of this is vintage damask and most of it will be going into the Hot Scrap Mix.

There are dyes and magic sauce left over. Sunshine blazing through Sunday. I'm going to rummage in the closet to see if there is anything left that could use some color.