finishings

.

 I've been sitting with this one for a couple hours now and am satisfied that it's done, on the surface of things. Tomorrow, while the turkey is in the oven, I'll back it with something appropriate and try to decide on how I want  to orient it so I can stitch my mark in the corner.

Voodoo has sequestered himself on the floor level of a large bookcase where I keep just a bowl of clean water for them. He is studying the infinite, slumbering and dreaming. It's been a very good life.

I'm thinking the one below will win out.

When Charlie was younger, he'd snatch you bald-headed if you gave him a chance. I wore my hair up in a bun for about six months.  He's stopped pulling my hair, thank goodness. Now he will stroke my bangs when I hold him and if I'm down on the floor with him, he'll get behind me and pull the loose ends free of whatever clip I've put my hair up with, carefully, gently.  I caught him at it today with my phone and finally realize that he's singling out the white hairs.

the long week

It just feels that way, I guess.  And I didn't even have to cook, except for a couple of pies which came out perfectly. For the first time, I followed instructions and put little strips of foil around the edges so they wouldn't get over-cooked. It really works.




Colin and I joined Jake, Missy and Charlie at Missy's father's place up in the Georgia mountains for the Thanksgiving feast. The house, with it's wonderful wrap around deck, was aswarm with toddlers this year. Charlie and his cousins Jack and Charlotte milled around in a state of perpetual motion and astonishment. I was too busy to take pictures. Saturday, I'll cook a bird for our little crew.

a few more lines

It keeps asking for smaller things. tighter focus. A few lines of code is turning into an epic.

Dropping down from the  4x 12wt cotton to four strands of machine rayon to carry one strand of gold or silver metallic.

Needing a little mindless escapism, I am watching the American Music Awards. For a few minutes, I was feeling lost and out of touch.

After a few more minutes, I realized that it wasn't I who was lost and out of touch.  There is nothing enduring going on there at all.

Here is where I find the most meaning and fun lately. I spend thursdays and fridays with Charlie and experience the world anew through his eyes.

playing catch up

this scrap pulled me in this morning

Lest ye think I either shuffled off this mortal coil or have been snatched into the witness protection program. No excuses beyond being absorbed by life and it's trivialities. All the little things that make up our time. I've been needing to buy some new 1.75 reading glasses. The last pairs I bought were cheap and are warped and scratched. My eyes have been tired from fighting with them, so there's been no stitching at all this whole week until this morning.

"codelines" continues

I left the space heater on in the studio knowing that the morning light would be waiting for me in the sewing chair. It's passed now, an hour is enough. I'm lingering over this piece like a box of truffles. There will be another right behind it or maybe, a kid quilt or two. No Christmas gifts. I won't put myself under the gun like that. It's enough that I've promised my crit partner a rough draft manuscript by New Years!

the marked day

I hate the way the calendar we use wobbles through time. Dates falling on different days, year in and year out. The sloppy flux of numbers on paper. One day, more or less, in a whole month of days, so I'm not going to pin any crown of thorns on this one.

By some fool's measure of time, it's been two years since Jimmy had to leave us. On some days, it feels like forever; on others, just yesterday. It's been hard on all of us who counted on his love, his calm presence, his confidence in all things.

He and I never talked about this day as if not believing it would come could hold it back. Yes, once or twice toward the end. We made our promises to each other and kept them. He is proud.

We do what we must, what he would insist we do. Live life and love it, joys and heartaches coming in all flavors, bitter to achingly sweet. I don't feel as if he is receding from me in time. Each day that passes brings me closer in time to where he is.

So here's to you my darling. All my love, all my life.