Wednesday, March 30, 2016
Colors of the days
I'll lead with the pretty pictures and I can see now that a few of these need tinkering, but I'll stay my hand because these are the concentrates that I will work with, so a little bit goes a long way - even with my predilection for waste. I need to find a good sized disposable syringe, the turkey baster is too big.
While waiting for these to come up to room temp, I replaced the agitator dogs in the washing machine- the final phase of restoring it to useful life before having to knuckle under and buy a replacement. No washer = no dye season. Never mind clean clothes. I work from home. Clothes?
I followed this funny video and found it to be much like playing with Lego. Years ago I tore down and rebuilt the carburetor in our lawn mower and MANY years ago, swapped out the engine and tranny in my '63 Ford Fairlane. Most satisfying endeavors. The washing machine thing was not nearly as hard on the fingernails, but Kids, it's Nasty in there! Building computers from scratch is a joke by comparison. Hands-on feels good. What's next? And where the hell did I put last years seeds????
Sunday, March 27, 2016
I missed Ostara...
...so I'm celebrating today while everyone else is Eastering.
I should have taken this outside for better exposure, buts it's drizzling and I've lost the tent cover over the dye deck to rot and old age.
The fun part was trying to read the labels on the powdered dyes. 90% have faded away which doesn't speak well to the way I stored them.
Only time will tell if this batch of dye stock will be valid.
I stuck to the twelve. I'm particularly happy with what looks to be a very neutral black. No more cheesy plastic squeeze bottles. I invested in a dozen 16oz. mason jars which rack up nicely on the bottom shelf of the fridge.
No more fooling with this stuff today, although I'm tempted. I have a writing project with a deadline. These will keep until we get some sunshine. And I'm happy with this salvage job:
I should have taken this outside for better exposure, buts it's drizzling and I've lost the tent cover over the dye deck to rot and old age.
The fun part was trying to read the labels on the powdered dyes. 90% have faded away which doesn't speak well to the way I stored them.
Only time will tell if this batch of dye stock will be valid.
I stuck to the twelve. I'm particularly happy with what looks to be a very neutral black. No more cheesy plastic squeeze bottles. I invested in a dozen 16oz. mason jars which rack up nicely on the bottom shelf of the fridge.
No more fooling with this stuff today, although I'm tempted. I have a writing project with a deadline. These will keep until we get some sunshine. And I'm happy with this salvage job:
Friday, March 25, 2016
the provenance of twine
One of the prototype cusspots.
This one was made from 12 strand cotton string that came from the first post office that my mother worked at in Goldens Bridge. They used to tie bundles of mail and magazines with this stuff. In a pinch, they could have used in a hanging. When the old PO was closed, they were going to throw four giant cones of this in the trash. I was twelve and I knew it was wrong. This was the very last of it.
This is about the size of a baseball and was covered car grime. A soak in laundry detergent, no bleach and it looks like the day I made it and will go back to catching coins in the console of his car.
All this whiteness has me itching to stoke up the dye deck this weekend. I feel the need for color.
This one was made from 12 strand cotton string that came from the first post office that my mother worked at in Goldens Bridge. They used to tie bundles of mail and magazines with this stuff. In a pinch, they could have used in a hanging. When the old PO was closed, they were going to throw four giant cones of this in the trash. I was twelve and I knew it was wrong. This was the very last of it.
This is about the size of a baseball and was covered car grime. A soak in laundry detergent, no bleach and it looks like the day I made it and will go back to catching coins in the console of his car.
All this whiteness has me itching to stoke up the dye deck this weekend. I feel the need for color.
Tuesday, March 22, 2016
sweetness
There's nothing sweeter than unexpected company on a Sunday morning.
(My camera needs its eyes checked)
Monday, March 21, 2016
the Sordid Tale continues...
"The Error of Her Ways" (cont.)
Picking everything out wasn't as bad as I anticipated. Music helped. The base cloth is a sturdy, service weight damask, not too vintage, so it can take a little punishment without falling apart.
But..web research is telling me I am well and truly screwed for using an indelible (hello!) metallic gold ballpoint ink to so arrogantly lay out the lettering. Such chutzpah!
The solution I'm too familiar with is laying in a needle-turned patch of the same base material with the tiniest, most invisible, made by blind Bavarian nuns, stitching and then, getting the damn words right, bless you Beatles.
Picking everything out wasn't as bad as I anticipated. Music helped. The base cloth is a sturdy, service weight damask, not too vintage, so it can take a little punishment without falling apart.
But..web research is telling me I am well and truly screwed for using an indelible (hello!) metallic gold ballpoint ink to so arrogantly lay out the lettering. Such chutzpah!
The solution I'm too familiar with is laying in a needle-turned patch of the same base material with the tiniest, most invisible, made by blind Bavarian nuns, stitching and then, getting the damn words right, bless you Beatles.
Relax baby, it's gonna be OK.
Sunday, March 20, 2016
ugh and shit
That little badge I've been working on? It took me a week of mulling to decide on the text. Another few days of drawing the letters with my finger before I committed to the gold metallic pen. I was pretty smug about how nicely I fit the words around the perimeter of the design. That should have been a warning.
And in the end, the love you make is equal to the love
you take.
Did you see the error? Neither did I until I was finished stitching. Sigh.
Wednesday, March 16, 2016
Scary, isn't it.
Nothing like yesterday, though.
While I was at the park yesterday I scored a few good books from the Little Free Libray on a stick. I owe them a bunch, now that I think about it. Morbid has been the flavor of the day, politics aside.
"A Morbid Taste for Bones" is probably out of print so I'm keeping this yellowed little paperback. I was first introduced to the work of Ellis Peters while I was checking out anything and everything that was unabridged audio back when I had two hour daily commute to the Deathstar.
Imagine my surprise when I investigated the authors backlist to find that Ellis Peters was a little old lady who was dead and not writing any new adventures for Brother Cadfael. Then I stumbled on the BBC TV production of one of her books, "the Virgin in Ice" and I was reminded of how well-written drama can break your heart wide open.
And while I was doing the dishes this morning, I wrote a scene that has been wanting and waiting to trouble and terrify me. Good day and it's only noon.
Monday, March 14, 2016
practical matters
The sun coming in over the sewing chair is rich in the mornings, strong until 11 almost, but once the trees get leaves all that will change. For now, I'll take advantage of it if I can.
The washing machine heard me boasting about getting a good deal on those lumberjacks yesterday so it decided this would be a good time to up and die. Not if I have anything to say about it.
We jackassed it off the base because I thought we had to take the back cover off. Then I did a little web surfing and found the trixie technique for getting at the works - flipping the lid and yanking off the cabinet from the front. It was nasty in there.
In search of a clog, hoses were disconnected, but I forgot about the several gallons of dirty water still in the tub, even though we siphoned off most of it. Damp carpets will look cleaner someday. There was NO sock blockage, although I did find an ATM card in the basket that I hadn't even missed yet.
The next part to be investigated/replaced is the timer. Part ordered and an excellent tutorial found. All I need is a strappy t-shirt and crack-revealing jeans.
The washing machine heard me boasting about getting a good deal on those lumberjacks yesterday so it decided this would be a good time to up and die. Not if I have anything to say about it.
We jackassed it off the base because I thought we had to take the back cover off. Then I did a little web surfing and found the trixie technique for getting at the works - flipping the lid and yanking off the cabinet from the front. It was nasty in there.
In search of a clog, hoses were disconnected, but I forgot about the several gallons of dirty water still in the tub, even though we siphoned off most of it. Damp carpets will look cleaner someday. There was NO sock blockage, although I did find an ATM card in the basket that I hadn't even missed yet.
The next part to be investigated/replaced is the timer. Part ordered and an excellent tutorial found. All I need is a strappy t-shirt and crack-revealing jeans.
Saturday, March 12, 2016
passing time
I was going to call this post "killing time", but it's such an awful expression when you think about it. Lately, if anyone was to tell me to my face that they were just killing time I might smack them!
While I got even more fussy with the corded lines on this piece, I waited for a phone call from the tree guy.
The house phone was ringing the other day and out of sheer spite, I answered all prepared to send some telemarketer, politician or bill collector to a venomous hell with my snappy repartee. Instead, I took a cold sales call from a local tree company who must have scouted the property from the street even though my concerns are in the back yard.
He came, he saw and he conquered me with an amazing price for felling a group of trees that have been threatening my pool for years. The time has come. Well, it will come later in the summer after I've sold a few pounds of cloth and/or a few gallons of blood.
In the meantime, it's Spring Break at the Froggy Club Med. This strange climate year has emboldened a host of tender-voiced leopard frogs to come out ahead of the shrieking tree frogs. Who will eat whom? All of them will be evicted in the coming days.
I cleaned and relocated my favorite, deep-voiced wind chimes.
While I got even more fussy with the corded lines on this piece, I waited for a phone call from the tree guy.
The house phone was ringing the other day and out of sheer spite, I answered all prepared to send some telemarketer, politician or bill collector to a venomous hell with my snappy repartee. Instead, I took a cold sales call from a local tree company who must have scouted the property from the street even though my concerns are in the back yard.
He came, he saw and he conquered me with an amazing price for felling a group of trees that have been threatening my pool for years. The time has come. Well, it will come later in the summer after I've sold a few pounds of cloth and/or a few gallons of blood.
In the meantime, it's Spring Break at the Froggy Club Med. This strange climate year has emboldened a host of tender-voiced leopard frogs to come out ahead of the shrieking tree frogs. Who will eat whom? All of them will be evicted in the coming days.
I cleaned and relocated my favorite, deep-voiced wind chimes.
Sunday, March 06, 2016
unhinged
Is it just me?
The almost complete lack of winter (as lame as it is here in Georgia) has me unsettled and not recognizing these days as Spring.
Our pool is a pit of green slime, the algae never died off and turned black like it usually does. We are going to have to move up the purge a whole month.
I spent the morning avoiding all (current) media input. It's verging on toxic. I've done my part - did my investigation, made a contribution, slapped on a bumper sticker and voted. For a few days, anyway, the whole process can just catch a handbasket to hell.
What I'd really like is to go to a baseball game..no radio, no TV, just watch and listen, maybe stitch a bit while they are out there having private conversations on the mound.
The almost complete lack of winter (as lame as it is here in Georgia) has me unsettled and not recognizing these days as Spring.
Our pool is a pit of green slime, the algae never died off and turned black like it usually does. We are going to have to move up the purge a whole month.
I spent the morning avoiding all (current) media input. It's verging on toxic. I've done my part - did my investigation, made a contribution, slapped on a bumper sticker and voted. For a few days, anyway, the whole process can just catch a handbasket to hell.
What I'd really like is to go to a baseball game..no radio, no TV, just watch and listen, maybe stitch a bit while they are out there having private conversations on the mound.
Monday, February 29, 2016
spring?
Seasoned readers will think "oh, oh. she's been doing a whole lot of nothing." but, not so.
Mending, putting new bindings on old service quilts, actual zipper replacements - real old school stuff. I have new callouses.
It was warm enough to leave doors and windows open today and I was outside looking at the dyedeck wondering what would be next.
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
spring wear
Friday, February 19, 2016
utility
I've been looking at the large chunks of good quality commercial cotton I still have as I shuffle tubs and containers around trying to make room in the closet.
The Janome behaved well recently and the activity was rewarding mentally. This kind of design work sparks flow. Winter weight quilts or two layer flings..tops are tops.
I've had to make some major changes to my manuscript - pacing issues - and looking at this quilt, I'm realizing that good design is good design, no matter the medium.
The cloth speaks.
The Janome behaved well recently and the activity was rewarding mentally. This kind of design work sparks flow. Winter weight quilts or two layer flings..tops are tops.
I've had to make some major changes to my manuscript - pacing issues - and looking at this quilt, I'm realizing that good design is good design, no matter the medium.
The cloth speaks.
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
you know I'm procrastinating
when it was new |
In the meantime, the first quilt I made for Charlie has finally gotten the long promised and long overdue mending. I have not turned on the Janome since this quilt was first made more than eighteen months ago. I suppose I should clean and oil it.
I don't know what I was thinking when I discharged already tender cottons on the quilt top. Some of the pieces began to fray and develop holes just from day to day wash and wear.
At first, I was afraid I was going to have to deconstruct the entire thing, but the backing is substantial commercial batik so I'm counting on some sturdy, well-placed shirting patches and a new binding to hold things in service another year or two. I'll finish hand stitching that binding when he's sleeping tomorrow.
new now |
Tuesday, February 16, 2016
hearts progress
It seems that this is where I fall back when nothing else is possible. Reflexive self-care.
I have a five alarm head cold that is already passing. Cold medicine leaves me with breezes blowing between my ears. No thoughts.
I have a five alarm head cold that is already passing. Cold medicine leaves me with breezes blowing between my ears. No thoughts.
Saturday, February 13, 2016
art at work
3D art pieces born again as Toys! Charlie especially likes the one in the foreground for its handle.
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
back to badges
I went back in to the studio this morning and started a new badge, adding on to the series I started two years ago.
Finding those UFOs yesterday and digging into their history has proven to be a catalyst for a much-needed mental rest, although, while in the design phase of the project, I'm finding paralelles to writing that I never did in the past. I think it's because I focused on this one..."the Heart of Life", a personal favorite that sold pretty quickly.
I found the post about the genesis of the badge project which includes a good shot of this piece in progress.
I can remember selecting and rejecting cloth, then cutting and folding and moving the shapes over and over until it was right.
Selecting and building the blended threads, choosing and executing each stitch. There was no hurry and no room for "whatever". I gave this little thing my all. That's what it takes, no matter what I'm doing or I'm not going to be satisfied with the outcome. This one will get finished soon and I'll mount it to a small canvas. They will all be for sale.
Finding those UFOs yesterday and digging into their history has proven to be a catalyst for a much-needed mental rest, although, while in the design phase of the project, I'm finding paralelles to writing that I never did in the past. I think it's because I focused on this one..."the Heart of Life", a personal favorite that sold pretty quickly.
I found the post about the genesis of the badge project which includes a good shot of this piece in progress.
I can remember selecting and rejecting cloth, then cutting and folding and moving the shapes over and over until it was right.
Selecting and building the blended threads, choosing and executing each stitch. There was no hurry and no room for "whatever". I gave this little thing my all. That's what it takes, no matter what I'm doing or I'm not going to be satisfied with the outcome. This one will get finished soon and I'll mount it to a small canvas. They will all be for sale.
Tuesday, February 09, 2016
wondering
We had snow showers all day today and the light was unusual. I was in the studio early and sat looking at the design wall for a while wondering what happens to the work when artists die. There are eight or nine pieces nailed up there for lack of better storage and will on my part. Nice and flat they are. What a pain in the butt for the families left behind!
Yes, for reasons I won't dwell on, I missed both of those deadlines so the pieces that I started in 2012 and finished in 2013 probably they won't seen any exposure at a national show what with restrictions on the age of pieces. Or is that bit of fiber tomfoolery becoming a thing of the past?
Then the sun broke through and I got this shot of "Consolation" 2012.
It worked it's charm on me. No one out there has enough money to buy this one.
Yes, for reasons I won't dwell on, I missed both of those deadlines so the pieces that I started in 2012 and finished in 2013 probably they won't seen any exposure at a national show what with restrictions on the age of pieces. Or is that bit of fiber tomfoolery becoming a thing of the past?
Then the sun broke through and I got this shot of "Consolation" 2012.
It worked it's charm on me. No one out there has enough money to buy this one.
Wednesday, February 03, 2016
not locked up or in Tahiti
But it feels like the first one.
I've been writing critiques for a handful of other writers from a new group that I've joined. You have to give 'em to get 'em, as the saying goes.
My neck hurts, my shoulders are all hunched, there's a crease between my eyes and I have agita. No, not from working at the computer all day. From trying to be civil and instructive at the same time. It's exhausting. You can't just say "This sucks. Stop writing." The Karmic implications are grotesque! What I really want to do right now is curl up with the river basket and maybe just mend something. feh.
I've been writing critiques for a handful of other writers from a new group that I've joined. You have to give 'em to get 'em, as the saying goes.
My neck hurts, my shoulders are all hunched, there's a crease between my eyes and I have agita. No, not from working at the computer all day. From trying to be civil and instructive at the same time. It's exhausting. You can't just say "This sucks. Stop writing." The Karmic implications are grotesque! What I really want to do right now is curl up with the river basket and maybe just mend something. feh.
Friday, January 29, 2016
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
It's only January my stitchers!
There's still a lot of winter ahead of us, more for some than others.
I've opened up some containers that were stowed deep in the closet and breaking out new/old cloth to be included in the latest crop of Fat Baggies , the best bargain on the web when it comes to vintage, hand-dyed scraps.
I'm taking first picks for myself, of course, but there's just so much Lush to share! If you have a colorway preference, email mail me and I'll do what I can to feed your fancy.
I've opened up some containers that were stowed deep in the closet and breaking out new/old cloth to be included in the latest crop of Fat Baggies , the best bargain on the web when it comes to vintage, hand-dyed scraps.
I'm taking first picks for myself, of course, but there's just so much Lush to share! If you have a colorway preference, email mail me and I'll do what I can to feed your fancy.
I left these images large so you can open them up and get a close look. |
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Ancient
From way back when I apparently had nothing but time on my hands. Everyone was throwing the kitchen sink at art quilts back then, and I was intent on making stuff stick.
This piece is part of the Del Thomas Contemporary Quilt Collection and one of the first pieces I ever sold. And here is it's companion piece "Healer"
This piece is part of the Del Thomas Contemporary Quilt Collection and one of the first pieces I ever sold. And here is it's companion piece "Healer"
"Parking Magic" 22x22 2003 |
digitally printed images appliqued |
glass beads and shell |
Monday, January 25, 2016
the cloth at work
I love seeing what other people do with or feel about the cloth I send them.
The reason I parted with it in the first place was because it had no place in my imagination (at the moment I packaged it up) and my hope was that someone else would be sparked by it.
Grace does it every day. Her photos alone are creative inspiration for me.
Thursday, January 21, 2016
idling
My dye project is going to have to wait until late Sunday, unless the new writer's group gets cancelled this coming Saturday. We are under the weather armageddon threat here in GA, meaning a few flakes might put in an appearance.
I' keep busy, thanks.
I made the rash mistake of clicking on these in an ad somewhere on the web and now they pop up no matter what web page I go to. Really? Maybe?
I love the sexy-cool of Converse but the last time I tried on a pair and walked around the store for a minute, my feet felt like they had been beaten with lead pipes. The new Chuck Taylor II promises to have remedied that..I'll have to have another walk about before I commit,
I' keep busy, thanks.
I made the rash mistake of clicking on these in an ad somewhere on the web and now they pop up no matter what web page I go to. Really? Maybe?
I love the sexy-cool of Converse but the last time I tried on a pair and walked around the store for a minute, my feet felt like they had been beaten with lead pipes. The new Chuck Taylor II promises to have remedied that..I'll have to have another walk about before I commit,
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
fish mess
Well, the commercial (RIT) dye remover did it's thing. This is pretty much how I remember the cloth. No wonder I dyed it. It's as uninspiring as the pink was garish.
My next move? I'm going to cut out a couple of clumps of fish and overdye them separately. Time for a kitchen table dye fest now that I have heat in the house.
I'm not going to think about the colors until I open the box of dyes, but a strong amber comes to mind. That would hopefully cast golden fish in water as murky and green as my swimming pool is right now.
Snail's pace here.
My next move? I'm going to cut out a couple of clumps of fish and overdye them separately. Time for a kitchen table dye fest now that I have heat in the house.
I'm not going to think about the colors until I open the box of dyes, but a strong amber comes to mind. That would hopefully cast golden fish in water as murky and green as my swimming pool is right now.
Snail's pace here.
Wednesday, January 13, 2016
Electronically (mis)guided dreams
This piece of cloth turned up in the stash churn the other morning. You know, stash churn, like how you are supposed to take a pitchfork to the compost heap?
Anyway, this piece of commercial batik has been in my life since I don't know when. It's got a supple, soft hand. I know it would be wonderful to applique with - all those tiny, needle turned stitches. I know there are one or two of those pink fish on the very first not-quilt I ever made. I have doled them out like bits of treasure, but the pink on navy really bothers me.
Back in the day, I had a long, halter top dress made from cloth just like it, a different print. Gold on blue. That hippy, India thing. The only thing holding the girls in place were two half inch straps of the same cloth that tied behind my neck. There was some cloth that saw some action.
So while I was handling this cloth yesterday, I was listening to some sample sound from BrainFM, no affiliation just yet. Still just listening to the soothing electronica.
It was a "focus" segment and I'm just holding this cloth, recognizing for the first time that the fish were arranged head and tail as Pisces. Thought about my long ago dress. How I could have parted with that cloth when it was done as a garment and I did wear it to death.
Last night I dreamed that I cut all the fish out of this cloth and re-arranged them, appliqueing them in various groups and files, some chasing colorful bugs or worms, some belly up with black Xs over their eyes...all kinds of activities. An enormous amount of work going into this imaginary Fish Blanket. Crazy. Still, my hand itches to pick up the scissors.
I'll have to overdye them first.
Anyway, this piece of commercial batik has been in my life since I don't know when. It's got a supple, soft hand. I know it would be wonderful to applique with - all those tiny, needle turned stitches. I know there are one or two of those pink fish on the very first not-quilt I ever made. I have doled them out like bits of treasure, but the pink on navy really bothers me.
Back in the day, I had a long, halter top dress made from cloth just like it, a different print. Gold on blue. That hippy, India thing. The only thing holding the girls in place were two half inch straps of the same cloth that tied behind my neck. There was some cloth that saw some action.
So while I was handling this cloth yesterday, I was listening to some sample sound from BrainFM, no affiliation just yet. Still just listening to the soothing electronica.
It was a "focus" segment and I'm just holding this cloth, recognizing for the first time that the fish were arranged head and tail as Pisces. Thought about my long ago dress. How I could have parted with that cloth when it was done as a garment and I did wear it to death.
Last night I dreamed that I cut all the fish out of this cloth and re-arranged them, appliqueing them in various groups and files, some chasing colorful bugs or worms, some belly up with black Xs over their eyes...all kinds of activities. An enormous amount of work going into this imaginary Fish Blanket. Crazy. Still, my hand itches to pick up the scissors.
I'll have to overdye them first.
Sunday, January 10, 2016
sunday stitch
Sunday is improving. Over the past two years, it's been a difficult day to be alone if I didn't have visiting planned.
I went to my first meeting with a new writing group yesterday and it was just what I've been looking for.
Now a chunk of Sunday will have to be given over to Saturday housework, the stuff I let languish all the rest of the week. A day for projects, catching up and finishing. I need to get back to having books on CD while I work.
I cleared the dancing table in the studio enough to fire up the Janome and do some long promised mending. From there it was a short hop to the river basket to see what was waiting for my hands.
What am I going to do when Downton Abbey is over?
I went to my first meeting with a new writing group yesterday and it was just what I've been looking for.
Now a chunk of Sunday will have to be given over to Saturday housework, the stuff I let languish all the rest of the week. A day for projects, catching up and finishing. I need to get back to having books on CD while I work.
I cleared the dancing table in the studio enough to fire up the Janome and do some long promised mending. From there it was a short hop to the river basket to see what was waiting for my hands.
What am I going to do when Downton Abbey is over?
Tuesday, January 05, 2016
meditation
I came into the studio this morning to fill a fabric order.
No music, no TV. Just the sound of the cold wind through the hollies under the big window, the sun blazing through.
With an empty mind, my hand kept finding the most amazing bits, shreds and pieces.
Grace reminded me how the smallest bits of cloth have a magic and integrity all of their own. As if to say, "I'm the one and only piece in all existence just like this. What will you make of me?'
I've been busy working on a short story since Christmas and finding that fiddling with words can be every bit as compulsive as working with cloth. You move a piece from here to there and there is a whole different tale. The unintended consequences never end. Stopping and taking a stand can be difficult. Pleasing the masses? Impossible.
Pleasing myself? Who better.
No music, no TV. Just the sound of the cold wind through the hollies under the big window, the sun blazing through.
With an empty mind, my hand kept finding the most amazing bits, shreds and pieces.
Grace reminded me how the smallest bits of cloth have a magic and integrity all of their own. As if to say, "I'm the one and only piece in all existence just like this. What will you make of me?'
I've been busy working on a short story since Christmas and finding that fiddling with words can be every bit as compulsive as working with cloth. You move a piece from here to there and there is a whole different tale. The unintended consequences never end. Stopping and taking a stand can be difficult. Pleasing the masses? Impossible.
Pleasing myself? Who better.
Other thoughts today are with Grace and little old Cinche, now winding down her journey on this plane.
Saturday, January 02, 2016
the blur
I'm sure someone has coined a name for it somewhere - the span of days between Christmas Day and New Year's Day. One day does tend to blur into the next.
I spent a chunk of it coddling Charlie who needed a little extra attention. My cell phone camera is on its way out, but I love this shot with nothing but the swirling exuberance of color and those grays!
Judy Martin knows about grays. For all the magically tender color of this piece, I've figured out that it's the grays that give it bones. At least to my eye.
I've not made any resolutions but cleared two goals. The completion of my first short story in time for a 1/2/16 deadline (which was extended to 1/9 when I wasn't looking) and a true resolution to get back outside and resume the walking cure.
Today it was a mere quarter mile around the dirty duck pond at Bethesda Park. I'd like to put that little tracker app back on my phone but it will probably burst into flames and I'm not quite ready for a new one yet. Sometimes, the camera works.
I spent a chunk of it coddling Charlie who needed a little extra attention. My cell phone camera is on its way out, but I love this shot with nothing but the swirling exuberance of color and those grays!
Judy Martin knows about grays. For all the magically tender color of this piece, I've figured out that it's the grays that give it bones. At least to my eye.
I've not made any resolutions but cleared two goals. The completion of my first short story in time for a 1/2/16 deadline (which was extended to 1/9 when I wasn't looking) and a true resolution to get back outside and resume the walking cure.
Today it was a mere quarter mile around the dirty duck pond at Bethesda Park. I'd like to put that little tracker app back on my phone but it will probably burst into flames and I'm not quite ready for a new one yet. Sometimes, the camera works.
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Happy New Year
Thinking of family and many distant friends, women of the cloth, who are still at it beyond all boundaries of trend and times. So inspirational.
There has been (good) writing all day. Chinese food is on the way. Fireworks and gunfire echo outside and the sun just set. The new furnace just kicked on. Later, there will be movies and a bottle of champagne that's been languishing in a high cupboard in the kitchen since '99 (I think). If I can get it open and it's drinkable....
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