catching a break, a breath, and a wave

 

Cold, cold this morning. I left the heat shut down because of the Mold Men monkey business in the room below mine. They get to wear hazmat suits. I get to tape up all the vents and electrical outlets and worry myself baldheaded over where each cat is and what's that smell? 

 

They came to retest, took back their nifty hepa filter machines, and swore we'd pass. The appraiser was here, took some more pictures with a trainee in tow.

It's all out of my control now, but my real worry for the day was Charlie getting major dental work done that needed anesthesia. What's a Nana to do about that but fret.

He was FINE. Mom and Dad by his side and came by today to show me all his silver choppers. He's FINE.

Early this morning I found this piece in the project bag. It had a big maybe on it when I tucked it away. After minimal fiddling, this morning I gave it the green light and basted it while listening to some music with (almost) no thoughts in my head. As if.

A secondary character gets called up to The Show. (It turns out that Lady Gray, isn't a lady at all and we are told it's none of our damned business what is under her dress. Smack.) ---this is what writers do.

These are the last shreds of damask in my stash. I'm so hoping the new arrivals will be suitable for the tricks I want to teach them.

There are a few new colors that hitchhiked here along with some soy wax from Dharmatrading. There will be resisting!

This freckled cloth is so delicate and soft. It feels like baby skin. 

Strange business today. After Jake and Charlie left, Sweetie and I tucked ourselves in for the mandatory siesta (I work until 12:15am).  Twenty minutes into my allotted hour, a solid thump on the front step woke me. I'm expecting two big boxes of cloth from NY so I staggered downstairs to thank the delivery person. Opened the door. Nothing. Hmm. I went back upstairs to see if the truck was still in the driveway. Nothing. A second thump from below. Again, nothing on the doorstep. Assuming my ears were failing to report properly, I walked around the house looking for the source of the sound.  My imagination? Why would anticipation wake me from a much-needed nap.

A call to my source for tracking numbers assured me that the boxes were still on the camels plodding their way here, ETA Monday evening. 

The sounds? To be continued. I really want the parrot. You know the one.

Good night all.

not quite ennui

 

I feel like this sunset. Unsettled. The ongoing mortgage refinancing saga is exhausting. I hate it. It all reminds me of how completely spoiled I was when Jim handled this kind of thing. Remodeling, replacing appliances, anything like that. I was sent away - the beach, a friend's place, hotel, didn't matter. I came home when the last of the sawdust was swept up, my only job was to enjoy the end results and praise the GC, of course. 

Our weather here doesn't know whether to shit or go blind. I put off planting seeds until this past weekend. I hope the indigos are hardy. I still don't know what I plan to do with it if it survives living in a 20-gallon fiber tub. 

Tomorrow I'm going looking for more of these, #$%@&!  

Have you ever had a word that simply skitters out of your brain like a drop of water on a hot skillet?? PURSLANE! It's purslane. I'm tempted to get a lovely wristlet tattooed on with purslane clutched in the dragon's claws, the flowers around his neck. 

I ran out in the dark and rain Monday night to cut these and bring them in before they got knocked flat. I forgot about the ants. A small troop of them were marching around on the kitchen table all going "WTF?" as I trimmed leaves and arranged the stems. I just let them be. The window was open. Ants are smart. I also forgot about the heavy perfume. Whew, these gals are redolent. 

I don't think the darker pinks have set any buds this year. The garden needs a bunch of TLC and a few bags of Black Cow. 

We were hoping to get the truck up and running. It cranked and ran, beautifully and smoothly, but today, Jake found something leaking wrongly. Something that may be a bigger pain in the ass than we anticipated. At what fine delicate point do I stop throwing good money after bad? 

I spent some time making some much-needed changes to the manuscript while the nuts and bolts of self-publishing continue to reveal themselves as pesky, complicated, but not unsolvable. I'm just not in the damn mood. One at a time, questions will be answered.

In the meantime, we live life.

1st dibs

 

I only kept three this time and I hid them away. For now.

The rest are in the store. 

Changing

 

I wasted a lot of time looking for words yesterday. Words I couldn't put my fingers on. I have to write a short bio for the back of my book and I'm starting to consider cooking up some high, handsome bullshit.

Who am I and why should it matter to readers? I've been sharing bits and pieces of myself on the web for years. If a reader is interested, they won't have much trouble finding out more about me if they can remember how to spell my last name.

Some time in the future, I'll be restricting access to this blog - some kind of subscription thing, I don't know what yet. I'll make it as painless as possible so I can go on being me, here. (Oh, the hubris!)

Lost glasses found!  Where else, but in the toy basket in the back seat of my car. We had a fine afternoon complete with gas station pretzels and blue Gatorade. Dear boy picked all the salt off a bit of pretzel "So your feet won't explode."

 Soon, he will be able to read to me as easily as I read to him. 

No PT today.  I was going to cancel because bad, lazy reasons when I received a message that my instructor has had a death in the family. Another beloved, distant elder cut down by COVID. 

Too many empty chairs in the world. 

second chances

 

Making Dirty Threads is not science. There are so many variables. Forget one thing and you get some epic fails. 

Too muddy, splotchy, pale. Bad color choices. Dyes (the way I use them) are a lot like pottery glazes. What you see in the container is rarely what you get once things are rinsed and dried.

So I set aside the Uglies and when the spirit moves me, I give them another run. The new process is working out well, especially for do-overs.

This bunch was a minute of my frazzled patience away from being cut off the cards. One vicious swipe down the center with the big shears into a pile of two inch strings to go into the trash. 

I took the time to save them and I'm glad I did. They'll be up in the store shortly. 

But today is for other things. Family and home. Balm and bane. 

It's a beautiful day. Nothing will grow here but grass, there's so little sun. The mailbox garden will be exploding with color within the week, fingers crossed.