sounds like this

After a very long and tiring day yesterday I finished work around one am and set about shutting some windows. It had cooled off after the rain and damp was creeping in .

 I opened the slider to the deck to make sure none of the cat crew were lurking on possums outside and what do I hear, distant but clear - a few intrepid tree frogs waking up from winter naps to tune up with their wooden combs dragging one tooth at a time over cigar boxes. They sounded tentative but hopeful.
 

 It made me smile and  I realized that winter's worst was past and there would be long, lazy summer days before we knew it.

and TGIFF!

Rx

Not fun.
I spent the best part of today at the cardiologist office being lit up with isotopes and drugged to extremes so we could all watch my heart tango in 3D on a computer screen.

I told them I could not run (or crawl) on a treadmill because I get nauseous from movement that goes nowhere..some middle ear nonsense - so I got the chemically induced version of a stress test. It leaves you feeling like a day old banana peel on the sidewalk.

All the things  I brought to pass the waiting time..books, journal, stitching.. were mere baggage cause I was too tired, hungry and yukky feeling to do any of it. I was glad I brought my blankie along for warmth, all the places for waiting were over air conditioned and ring ring...the nurse just called to say that all the tests came back normal - a Clydesdale's heart working just as it should. No worries mate!

fingers drum steering wheel..

  Sheesh..145 or so completely boring looking cars grinding by at about 3 mph. I'm going to lay in a stock of cans of spray paint in the trunk of my car for the next time I get stuck at this crossing.


Idle minds churn weirdness;
"This is a work of fiction. If you recognize yourself and you don't like what you read, you are guilty and should shut up and go away cause I know where the bodies are buried. If you like what you read about yourself, send flowers. Or money."

comment settings

Somehow the settings for allowing comments from All and Sundry got screwed up here (imagine! who could have possibly been tinkering with stuff that wasn't broke??) and some were not able to fling flowers or poo. Please have another whack at it and let me know ....


Thanks for letting me know, Arlee. 

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.