saturday chores

I'm putting the rest of the dye equipment away for the season. The poly blankets are rinsed clean and dry. I can't bring myself to throw away this ironstone platter and will try one more time to mend it somehow. It's so big and heavy and the break so unbalanced that, so far, no glue has been strong enough. I'm willing to go the duct tape route if I can find white. It's been a good, useful friend.

I took the current utility quilt outside to see just how many chips I'd made and what the overall size would be.  Enought by far!

Now the trick is to sash them up and/or whack away with the rotary cutter until they are all the same dimensions.  Then comes the layout to please the eye and finally, the sandwiching and machine quilting. I am fresh out of purple!

season's end

Oh well damn.

The Braves have lost the wild card game, Chipper got a clutch hit one more time but our season is over. I won't go into the gross controversy because it will be in the news tomorrow and you'll be sick of it. I already am.

Time to turn the hourglass over and let the sands run until opening day next spring. My hat, glove,  and transistor radio go back into the ballpark bag until next year.  I don't know how some people "do" multiple sports. It's emotionally exhausting.

Meanwhile the studio is a hive of industry, if not heavy creativity. I'm just playing for a bit while heavier things brew. I've finally found a use for those little sharpie+alcohol scribblings. But I think I'll toss a few into the washer to confirm that this stuff stains for life.

I wish I knew what words to put into Sweetie's mouth here but basically it's a threat that if I try to sit there again today she's going to make me bleed.

jumping the day

Although I worked late and slept badly, Sweetie wasn't going to let me sleep past seven this morning so I was up and out early taking this basket to the park again. They finished the resurface of the walking trail around the pond so I was able to occupy a bench and stitch in the bright morning sun for while, mental wheels spinning on other things.

There was a new list of artist calls in the email this morning which caught my attention for the first time in ages. Yesterday I spent the morning tuning up both the sewing machines in preparation for turning out a series of small kid quilts that will go up to the new market in NY. It's nice to have a way to use up some of the good quality cotton that I dyed in seasons past but had gotten away from using in my own work. Each of these will be a gem in it's own right poised for years of service and love for some little person. Not just quickie baby blankets..my voice and mark will be on each and every one.   Are those aliens creeping around on your blankie? of course they are.

the resting stitch

After a long day at IKEA and an afternoon of Atlanta traffic in the pouring rain, all I wanted to do was curl up in bed with my sewing basket and a cat.

I had intended to start something new. Something small and stitcherly but instead, I  dug this little false start out of the bottom of the basket, set aside a few weeks back.

After a little picking out and relocating some elements it began to dawn on me how hard I have been fighting against the very nature of cloth, the warp and the weft, always crossing never meeting. I have been working hard at turning cloth into paint and will have to give that some more thought. How that idea might be a signpost, marker or warning.

On the other hand, the real paint arrived today, along with a barrel of new dyes, that will all have to wait until late April or May before the fun can begin again, but I knew all that when I placed the order.

the end of an era

I was never a big baseball fan until we moved from NY to Atlanta.

I was working for AT&T in 1996 when the world series matched the defending champs, the Atlanta Braves, against the New York Yankees. As a forced transplant I felt like I was living in a foreign country. More than one of my coworkers referred to me as "the Yankee" so it was assumed that I would be rooting for my hometown team.

In fact, as a family, we were not big sports fans at all. I was amazed at the rabid intensity that the locals fans attached to this rivalry and when the Braves lost, how determined they were to support the team in the coming season.

Little by little we started to follow the team and get to know them as, unlike the teams in New York, the players made them selves available to their fans by participating in various community functions and contributing their time and energy to local charities which was unheard of  with the celebrities of both the NY teams. They were the A listers who didn't have to wait behind any velvet ropes in Manhattan. Not so the Braves. For the most part, the Braves lived here, they played here and were a part of the community. Jim was doing physical therapy when this tall, scruffy looking dude came in to have his arm worked on. Jim asked me "Do you know who that is?" Blank stare from yours truly."It's John Smoltz". I just wouldn't  recognize them in their street clothes.

 Game by game I became a fan. Smoltz, Maddux, Glavine, Galarraga  and the Jones boys, Andruw and Chipper. After an unheard of nineteen years on the same team, Chipper Jones is retiring this year. Even though the Braves have qualified for post season play, today is his last game of regular season play. And the game is here at Turner field again the arch rival NY Mets..my Dad's team.

 I clearly remember the first time we all went to see the team play. We has seats somewhere in the outfield on the third base side. I had brought binoculars and was seeing what I could see when my son Jake said, loudly enough for several rows of other fans to hear, "Mom, stop looking at Chipper's butt!"

Honest, Jake, it never occurred to me!

I just called Dad to remind him to watch the game but they are all piling in the car to visit Mom's grave for the first time...it continues to be a year of great change. the wheel keeps turning.

thanks for all the thrills Chipper.