what's afoot

The stars out of place

(It's a scary story, that one)

Some of you have asked what I have been up to. Not a whole lot fiberwise.

I'm still working sporadically on the Grand Rêver (below) which is coming along nicely, if predictably. The majority of my creative time and energy has been going into writing. It's been a long time since I was swept away by the creative process and it's a compelling feeling. I've been warned by a mentor not to “write myself out” but it's the last thing I dwell on at night and the first thing I'm thinking about in the morning.

The time I used to spend in the fiber studio has been completed taken over by this tale spinning. When I look back on some of my favorite fiber pieces the titles remind me that they were often place holders for untold stories and now I'm finally telling some of them. The only problem I'm having is that I am used to sharing works of visual art in progress. It would be a bad idea to start flinging rough first drafts at friends and family – I would surely be locked up.

I'll still be fiddling with fiber from time to time and will show and tell about that here especially since the new dye season will be on us before you know it and piles of white fabric sitting around just waiting to be reborn in color get my attention just like a blank page of paper.

a fork in the river

These two pieces of cloth are taking on an unintended significance. Cloth too complex and strong to be cut up and incorporated into a larger whole are like memories too deep and dark to be transcribed. Although I love both pieces I am unmoved to do anything else with them.


I ironed both today. front and back, back and front then spread them out and and looked a good long time and it was like being in the room with two belligerent teenagers. Don't bother to meet theirs eyes if they are not yours. These two seem to have disowned me. I'm almost afraid to go digging through the rest of them.

I'm a stash busting in a big way and will be posting a lot of hand dyed cloth to the store and getting some finished things up  on the Buy Art page. A liquidation of sorts. Drag it on long enough and I could almost call it spring cleaning.

headcold

I violated the cardinal Gramma's rule yesterday and went out in the winter chill with wet hair to get about six inches chopped off the ends. Later in the day I came down with an old fashioned sneezing, eye-watering head cold. I really don't buy the connection because it's something I do all the time. More likely I picked up a germ from the swarm at the grocery store. Howard Hughes was right.

Still, here I am,abed  stoned to the gills on Alka Seltzer for colds.  If I can keep my eyes open there are books to read and feathers and works in progress to stitch on before I have to work this afternoon.

 
One of the bad things about working from home is that there is little excuse for not working as long as you can sit upright in the chair and see the computer.
 
I started my shift last night well medicated and found myself strangely sanguine and sympathetic to my hapless customers instead of cynical, impatient and superior.  Who knew "nice" came in a fizzy drink? I will have to restrain myself from greeting people with

"Happy Friday! What foolish fresh hell are you reporting today?"

I want to go see "The Artist" in a theater like the Fox downtown but I'll settle for the AMC nearby.

delightful chaos

Chaos yes, but no trash or garbage. That was part of the mission yesterday afternoon. Two large bags of Garbage to the recycle and a large box of fabric sent off for someone else to "appreciate". I found whole yards of commercial fabric that I could track back to one of my earliest treks to MaryJo's 
maybe six or seven years ago. I know it's going into great hands.

As for the rest of this, little by little I'll dig it out and reorganize along the lines of some new priorities.

Dilemma #1: Can a 10x11 foot room really hold three large comfortable chairs?


and what's with those stupid wire racks taking up air in the closet?

Please don't notify "Hoarders"...it's surely not TV worthy.

Karma

It warmed up a bit today and Karma met me in the driveway when I got back from running errands and a stint at the pool. She was stamping her feet and demanding to see what was in the Publix bags. She has taken to climbing into the vehicle if you fart around too long with the door open.

Here she is taking some sunshine out on the dye deck wrapped in an old wool scarf which she did not fuss about. Lately she seems to be studying on some internal truths. Under all that fur, she is so frail I cannot tell her ferocious purr from trembling with cold.



She is becoming more eccentric by the day as her health declines. Sometimes though, I think she is just sitting around thinking up new ways to make us all worry.

I was up half the night checking on her. She decided to make camp in the boy's bathtub but was refusing to drink from the ever dripping tap- not a good sign- but she was all too happy to take water from a syringe, a teaspoonful at a time. I'm sure champagne would have gone over well. Anastasia has nothing on this Queen.  She has figured out that yowling from inside the always open dryer gets instant attention. However much longer she is with us she will be spoiled rotten every minute of that time.