small trials

Coming up for air after the worst head cold in memory. For forty-eight hours I was too sick to complain. Grateful to be upright and quasi-functional. I was so grateful for two full and productive days poolside last week  that it didn't matter that I was sneezing and sniffling until I sat down at the computer for the day job and realized that I couldn't talk or make sense of what I was seeing on the screen. Over-medicated much? None of it was making a dent in any of my symptoms and I discovered that more was not better. To bed.

It's past and over. So what used to take 24 hours now takes 48, a concession to age that I'm now willing to acknowledge.

This basket of delights is a fat baggie (picked with gloves and a mask!) that will be flying home tomorrow.

signs

Even here at the oasis there are signs.

staycation

I feel a little traitorous to my own slice of heaven out back, but my pool is well on its way back to its off-season pond state and no place to hang out.

This is the pool at the condo where a good friend lives, a few minutes away. It seems like none of the residents are aware that the pool will be kept open as long as the weather permits and it's been hot and sunny. Not sunny enough to get a scorch, but hot enough to make swimming glorious.

The ten-day forecast calls for more of the same, so this is pretty much where I'll be until Fall finally has its way with us.

reflexes, deep and wide

I came upstairs to start revisions on a chapter and instead, just spent twenty minutes burrowing through my private stash searching for the right shade of blue and not finding it.

Remembering that Procion discontinued Bonny Blue and any shreds I had left are gone. used up.

This is nothing more than a thought right now and will probably spin off into vapor, but I was reading my email at the same time and went to answer one. Instead of picking up the mouse, I picked up a spool of blue thread, cut a length and threaded a needle before I realized what I was doing.

the GO'keefe

Without any conscious decisions along those lines, I've turned a pair of men's Levis into quite the womanly, utilitarian item. The choice of lining and pocket fabrics were really a matter of what was within reach of the sewing chair, I swear.

 In the beginning, there was going to be some embellishment, but when I get done hand setting and stitching the lining into place through all that denim, I can promise you that this one will be finished and ready for action.

Back before the internet, 1988 to be exact, I had a nifty little mail-order business selling detailed instructions for the DIY crowd. I ran little one-inch ads buried in the back of a few craft magazines because that was all I could afford.

Every single day I'd get mail with cash or stamps inside and then next day I would send out my four-page, lavishly hand printed and illustrated instructions for AZZBAGS. I also offered to "Do it for you", but I never had any takers for the service. No surprise, given where I was advertising.

Jeans were a disposable commodity back then, as now, so there was no shortage of cheap raw material. I made hundreds of these bags and other accessories and sold them briskly at craft and art fairs. Those were fun days.