Light a Fire

 

I've been walking in some pretty tight circles lately. It's time to shake things up, day by day. As the interview said, "Someday is here."

There is nothing more aggravating to me than having all the materials for a project on hand and not even coming up with an excuse for not getting on with it, so, tomorrow I'm going to get this one mounted on canvas, fiber mummy style.

Has it really been eleven years since I first tried this? I have a half dozen pieces in the closet that turned out great that never got the marketing they deserve.

Something else to be remedied because it's coming up on time that I need to get that shit rolling.

But first, the work. 

My backbones

...according to the MRI and the doctor, are some decrepit shit. 

I won't bore you with all the medical jargon. My own eyes glazed over after fifteen seconds. No Shit!

I'm three inches shorter than I used to be and can hardly stand up straight or walk any length of time. 

The good "But" came next. There is stuff to be done for it that does not involve surgery or shots. Good stuff. Aquatic therapy! (Did she notice my webbed feet and gills, you think?) Chiro, core training, drugs. Did I mention drugs?  

All of this leading to a positive improvement dependent on my diligence. I'm so diligent. So That nonsense dealt with, the audiology tests upcoming and hearing aids likely. I may be ready for the Marines by my next birthday.

Until then, I could not have gotten through this week without the help of my crew, my darlings. I'd hold an award show, but I know how y'all are.

What's real.

 I'm out of practice. Rising before dawn, driving in the dark. He was on schedule even if there was no bus to meet. After a long day of digital school at home,  he was eager to work on his own project. An Idea Jar. 

"Nana. How do you spell ...." 

Jake and I coached him through sounding out 'dance', 'play', 'pretend' and others of his own conjuring as he did his best printing on slips of construction paper.

I could hear the key turning in the lock on the magic trick of reading and writing.  

Five years ago, I watched him take his first steps. This was better by far.

Some fun!

The past year has been hard on everyone. Impossibly hard for some. 

We have a long way to go yet and need to reach out to each other. Things will never be the same and in some cases, right on.

I want to celebrate the changes, the facing forward, and lean into life.

In a small celebration of Spring and other welcome changes, I've dug into my hoard (yes. I have been greedy) and sprinkled in a couple of Bailey's colors and will wrap them in a nice chunk of hand-dyed lightweight linen as a prize.

April Fools, or a day thereabouts when he's in my care, I'll ask my co-pirate to draw a winner. And this time, we are GOING WIDE, as in International entries are welcome. 

To enter the drawing, pop your email in that blue box to be notified when Prophets Tango goes on sale. One entry per email, of course.

If you already have, you're IN this drawing. If you're not sure, email me and I'll confirm it for you. And I promise, no spam and I will not sell your email to anyone. That would be crazy. And if you'd rather not sign up and still want a shot at the goodies, email me anyway.

I know a lot of textilians are also readers. We work hard at balancing our brains. But even if "...a genre-bending romantic saga with a deep twist of paranormal, a hearty dash of thriller, with the heat index on incinerate..." is not your cup of tea, I'll bet you know someone who'll thank you for turning them on to Prophets Tango. 

A good time is guaranteed for all, stitchers and readers alike!

The Bailey Brights

 

Just as I finally got comfortable, he trampled over me like a herd of wildebeest. Stood on my hip. Rumpused up to my shoulder then back to my feet. Sasquatch working a mountain ridge. 

I got up. The day had poured from murky to golden. Headache be damned. 

The new linen arrived earlier and I'd prewashed a big square. I grabbed it from the machine, bundled a double handful of skeins in it and went down to mix some magic. 

Bailey followed. 

This is on him.