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.

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.

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?

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.

Other thoughts today are with Grace and little old Cinche,  now winding down her journey on this plane.

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.