Memorial memory

 Jim's been gone seven years now. We used to sit together and watch TV. He watched. I stitched.

As I'm studying this one now, I remembered him asking, "What are these evil little fuckers up to?" 

There was something sinister going on but I didn't know it. Just a tone that came through. A mood.

I almost chucked this one because I didn't like the way the random seed stitches looked, but I was too lazy to pick them all away. 

Then I sacrificed it to the Fiber Mummy experiment. Given that ten years have passed and it's still pristine, I'd say the experiment was a success.

The plan is to mount some of the ever-growing pile of small, stitched pieces on canvas using the same technique. 

The intention, of course, to take them from bits of fancy work to Art, more consumable by the masses.

Jim would be out looking for canvases for me or building the odd sizes I needed.

He always knew my moods even when I didn't. I will always miss him.

The Red

 

What did I know of this Red thread? Nothing. All I knew was that when I got him off the bus yesterday it was so warm we left without any kind of jacket. This morning for the ride home, I dug this shirt out of my closet. How old? The badges are from Jake's cub scout days. I was a den mom for a season. Jim did the overnight camping thing. I was happy when he quit.

It's a really cozy fleecy stuff. I might have worn it once. If I chop off half the sleeves, it will make him a nice bathrobe.

I don't wear red. Some hot pinks and rust once in a great while, but red? Nope.

I use it very sparingly in my work.

I think I OD'ed on hot colors in 2007. Every time I take this one out and unroll it, I'm shocked.

                                                                            "Limbo"   38" x 68"     2007  

diversions

words can wait.

Since I made this post, Georgia has gone blue and there has been a recount, by hand.

Now to get Warnock and Ossoff elected to those senate seats.

While I sat in the sewing chair, Baily jumped up on the window sill that faces the driveway. The screen popped out and he fell two stories. 

By the time I got down the front door, he was strolling up the path, unharmed. He allowed himself to be examined and then went about his business. My heart rate took a lot longer to come down than he did.

 Worked while I waited for Charlie's bus.

fresh starts

Still taking it all in. 

There is a poisonous snake in Our House, the Whitehouse.

I have a high level of concern about the fact that the Shitweasel refuses to concede. He continues to infect his base with his delusions. Caravans of trucks with loser/traitor banners roam the Georgia highways. His enablers in the GOP seem to be out to lunch. Even members of his family have tried to get him to see reason.

Is he stealing the silverware? Salting the lawn? Trailing slime over the furnishings? 

I want that fence taken down as soon as possible.

On balance (I am a Libra) Biden's team is already attending to the most important concerns of the nation. All will benefit. There was no gunfire in my neighborhood. No celebrations.

Stacy Abrams' Fair Fight is working to make sure our two senates seats are blue, representing the true will of the people.

Another Monday is well under way.

Fuckin' A!

 

Blue Wave 2020. I put the stitched nameplate in the mail on Thursday without even taking a picture of it.  Have fun with it, Liz.