Nine

 

It's hard to take in this span of time. 

Some of you may know that Charlie was born about nine months after Jimmy left us. One door closed. Another sprang wide.

Yesterday morning I took him on a snipe hunt for records. He's interested in "ancient" technology, so a visit to a vintage junk shop with a record room was entertaining. I told him that record albums were interesting even though I had no way to play them because of the printed information, including song lyrics. We picked through the three and six-dollar bins and came away with a few gems in good condition. 

Side note - Jazz records, even used, are very expensive. We stuck with pop and rock. 

By the time we got home, there was a big box on the doorstep and I got to introduce him to the sublime pleasure of spinning a platter. The sound from this little portable is terrible, but he had nothing to compare it to. As much fascinated with the mechanics as the music. Fortune smiled - this player has the ability to wirelessly connect to Bluetooth speakers with great sound. Jake will set that up.

It was such a delight to watch him so absorbed in something that was my teenage lifeblood.

Dirty Threads - shops updated 7.31.23

 

If you've ordered anything in the past week, it will be shipped tomorrow. 

My personal stash is running low. Time to plan another dye fest. 

Wild hearts

Things to consider before pillaging another WIP for shapes of any kind:

How many layers of what type of cloth will I be working with?

Will cut lines of stitching unravel in time? 

Can it be faced or will it need to be bound?

Hand-bound or machine? 

This was originally built on a piece of heavy linen. Tough stitching and snipping. I will set up the Janome to put a fine satin stitch on the edge.

These are all things I didn't think about before starting because I was so focused on the design. 

In my writing, I've gotten too focused on the details and lost sight (did I ever have it?) of the design and the whole story.  

Packing for the last short week of summer with Charlie. Leaving stitching behind this time.

Heartburn

 Grrrr. After arriving on time and waiting 45 minutes only to hear  there were five patients ahead of me, I gave the receptionist a "fuck this shit" face and told her I was out. She commiserated silently - the waiting room was packed. I will call to reschedule. On with a quiet day.

All the wandering hearts may have been practice for this: ripping some hearts out of a UFO whose days were numbered. There are lots of those laying around.

 The same thing is likely for the story I've been wrangling. 

The heart has been obscured by plot wriggling. It may even be missing.

Summer winding down

 

I stitch or read. Think about writing. We play cards and listen to music. The most remarkable thing? The boy has taken a liking to Jazz. Old school jazz. Oscar Peterson, Lester Young, Coleman Hawkins. Of course, he heard it all from the days when he was in the crook of my arm.

When the sun gets past the yardarm and there's some shade we enjoy a nearby pool. Just us. They go back to school next Friday.