the cloth at work

I love seeing what other people do with or feel about the cloth I send them.

The reason I parted with it in the first place was because it had no place in my imagination (at the moment I packaged it up) and my hope was that someone else would be sparked by it.

Grace does it every day. Her photos alone are creative inspiration for me.

idling

My dye project is going to have to wait until late Sunday, unless the new writer's group gets cancelled this coming Saturday. We are under the weather armageddon threat here in GA, meaning a few flakes might put in an appearance.
I' keep busy, thanks.

I made the rash mistake of clicking on these in an ad somewhere on the web and now they pop up no matter what web page I go to. Really? Maybe?

I love the sexy-cool of Converse but the last time I tried on a pair and walked around the store for a minute, my feet felt like they had been beaten with lead pipes. The new Chuck Taylor II promises to have remedied that..I'll have to have another walk about before I commit,

fish mess

Well, the commercial (RIT) dye remover did it's thing. This is pretty much how I remember the cloth. No wonder I dyed it. It's as uninspiring as the pink was garish.

My next move? I'm going to cut out a couple of clumps of fish and overdye them separately. Time for a kitchen table dye fest now that I have heat in the house.

I'm not going to think about the colors until I open the box of dyes, but a strong amber comes to mind. That would hopefully cast golden fish in water as murky and green as my swimming pool is right now.

Snail's pace here.

Electronically (mis)guided dreams

This piece of cloth turned up in the stash churn the other morning. You know, stash churn, like how you are supposed to take a pitchfork to the compost heap?

Anyway, this piece of commercial batik has been in my life since I don't know when. It's got a supple, soft hand. I know it would be wonderful to applique with - all those tiny, needle turned stitches.  I know there are one or two of those pink fish on the very first not-quilt I ever made. I have doled them out like bits of treasure, but the  pink on navy really bothers me.

Back in the day, I had a long, halter top dress made from cloth just like it, a different print. Gold on blue. That hippy, India thing. The only thing holding the girls in place were two half inch straps of the same cloth that tied behind my neck. There was some cloth that saw some action.

So while I was handling this cloth yesterday, I was listening to some sample sound from BrainFM, no affiliation just yet.  Still just listening to the soothing electronica.

It was a "focus" segment and I'm just holding this cloth, recognizing for the first time that the fish were arranged head and tail as Pisces. Thought about my long ago dress. How I could have parted with that cloth when it was done as a garment and I did wear it to death.

 Last night I dreamed that I cut all the fish out of this cloth and re-arranged them, appliqueing them in various groups and files, some chasing colorful bugs or worms, some belly up with black Xs over their eyes...all kinds of activities. An enormous amount of work going into this imaginary Fish Blanket. Crazy. Still, my hand itches to pick up the scissors.

I'll have to overdye them first.

sunday stitch

Sunday is improving. Over the past two years, it's been a difficult day to be alone if I didn't have visiting planned.

I went to my first meeting with a new writing group yesterday and it was just what I've been looking for.

Now a chunk of Sunday will have to be given over to Saturday housework, the stuff I let languish all the rest of the week. A day for projects, catching up and finishing. I need to get back to having books on CD while I work.

I cleared the dancing table in the studio enough to fire up the Janome and do some long promised mending. From there it was a short hop to the river basket to see what was waiting for my hands.
What am I going to do when Downton Abbey is over?

meditation

I came into the studio this morning to fill a fabric order.

No music, no TV. Just the sound of the cold wind through the hollies under the big window, the sun blazing through.

With an empty mind, my hand kept finding the most amazing bits, shreds and pieces.

Grace reminded me how the smallest bits of cloth have a magic and integrity all of their own. As if to say, "I'm the one and only piece in all  existence just like this. What will you make of me?'

I've been busy working on a short story since Christmas and finding that fiddling with words can be every bit as compulsive as working with cloth. You move a piece from here to there and there is a whole different tale. The unintended consequences never end. Stopping and taking a stand can be difficult. Pleasing the masses? Impossible.

Pleasing myself? Who better.

Other thoughts today are with Grace and little old Cinche,  now winding down her journey on this plane.

the blur

I'm sure someone has coined a name for it somewhere - the span of days between Christmas Day and New Year's Day. One day does tend to blur into the next.

I spent a chunk of it coddling Charlie who needed a little extra attention. My cell phone camera is on its way out, but I love this shot with nothing but the swirling exuberance of color and those grays!

Judy Martin knows about grays. For all the magically tender color of this piece, I've figured out that it's the grays that give it bones. At least to my eye.

I've not  made any resolutions but cleared two goals. The completion of my first short story in time for a 1/2/16 deadline (which was extended to 1/9 when I wasn't looking) and a true resolution to get back outside and resume the walking cure.

Today it was a mere quarter mile around the dirty duck pond at  Bethesda Park. I'd like to put that little tracker app back on my phone but it will probably burst into flames and I'm not quite ready for a new one yet. Sometimes, the camera works.

Happy New Year

There was cloth this morning! Fabric orders, picked packed and shipped and I'm still taking pieces and stuffing them into the river basket for some oneday tomorrow.

Thinking of family and many distant friends, women of the cloth, who are still at it beyond all boundaries of trend and times. So inspirational.

There has been (good) writing all day. Chinese food is on the way.  Fireworks and gunfire echo outside and the sun just set. The new furnace just kicked on. Later, there will be movies and a bottle of champagne that's been languishing in a high cupboard in the kitchen since '99 (I think). If I can get it open and it's drinkable....

Christmas 2015

For all my friends (and the list is growing) who do not look at FB.

I'm Batman!

Charlie is on the mend so we all brought Christmas to him instead of making him travel. He charmed everyone in the room, but then we are a bit biased.

my last Christmas Moon

Something woke me, six and change, the face of the Christmas moon as it shivered on the pool and through the crystals hanging on the high deck. There were small rainbows flitting all over my bedroom.

I went out like I used to every full moon and took my cards with me. Always, there is one card that presents, either falls or is back-to or you draw it. It was she/I washed in brilliance.

::More Whiffs, Glimmers & Left Oeuvres::: Moments that Sing in the Heart

::More Whiffs, Glimmers & Left Oeuvres::: Moments that Sing in the Heart

making

It wouldn't be almost Christmas without last minute hand-mades.  This will be a little sit-spot for Charlie. I have a green one just inside the deck door in my bedroom and he delights in standing on it and turning in circles like a dog in tall grass.


We were having big fun yesterday, but inside an hour, his annoying cold/teething symptoms took a turn for the worse. I had forgotten how wrenching it is when a baby fevers and there is little you can do beyond hold them.

I remember wishing I could be sick instead for both of mine. Would that we could have such a choice.

On my way to him in a few minutes.

Christmas Past

 

 I have to dig these out of the closet, give them fresh batteries and see what Charlie can teach them.

Every vote counts.Swearwolf

Spawn #1 is vying for a prize and he's in the running!


Go there, listen to the piece (it won't kill you, I promise!) and then vote. It may ask for your FB stuff. Accept if you will.

Listen first and then vote here

ready now

This was back in 2011. It doesn't happen often, but it can.

home update.

I wrote it over here today.

Many thanks for the kind and thoughtful replies on Facebook.

relapsing

I've been filling orders for fat baggies and I keep coming across little pieces of cloth and saying "No! This one is mine." and stashing them in the River basket.

Although I don't know where this is taking me, I'm thinking it's a good thing.

(and for whatever digital reason the piece behind the red is really as green as holly in person)

poised for mayhem

I'm going to need something to calm me down over the next day or so. I plan on finishing this little folly for a friend who admire it a while ago. As of tomorrow morning, I'd rather be anywhere else, but I'll have to be here and bear it.

I finally bit the bullet and have made arrangements to have our long dead  HVAC plant replaced. A team of men are scheduled to start work at eight and the whole thing should be up and running by lunch! His lips to God's ears!

The company rep was here yesterday and I'm satisfied that my husband would have approved. Not the cheapest outfit or equipment available, to be sure, but the best for the house. Step one in restoring home. Heat and AC for the first time in many years. Civilization!

~

Voodoo  1998-2015   

finishings

.

 I've been sitting with this one for a couple hours now and am satisfied that it's done, on the surface of things. Tomorrow, while the turkey is in the oven, I'll back it with something appropriate and try to decide on how I want  to orient it so I can stitch my mark in the corner.

Voodoo has sequestered himself on the floor level of a large bookcase where I keep just a bowl of clean water for them. He is studying the infinite, slumbering and dreaming. It's been a very good life.

I'm thinking the one below will win out.

When Charlie was younger, he'd snatch you bald-headed if you gave him a chance. I wore my hair up in a bun for about six months.  He's stopped pulling my hair, thank goodness. Now he will stroke my bangs when I hold him and if I'm down on the floor with him, he'll get behind me and pull the loose ends free of whatever clip I've put my hair up with, carefully, gently.  I caught him at it today with my phone and finally realize that he's singling out the white hairs.

the long week

It just feels that way, I guess.  And I didn't even have to cook, except for a couple of pies which came out perfectly. For the first time, I followed instructions and put little strips of foil around the edges so they wouldn't get over-cooked. It really works.




Colin and I joined Jake, Missy and Charlie at Missy's father's place up in the Georgia mountains for the Thanksgiving feast. The house, with it's wonderful wrap around deck, was aswarm with toddlers this year. Charlie and his cousins Jack and Charlotte milled around in a state of perpetual motion and astonishment. I was too busy to take pictures. Saturday, I'll cook a bird for our little crew.

a few more lines

It keeps asking for smaller things. tighter focus. A few lines of code is turning into an epic.

Dropping down from the  4x 12wt cotton to four strands of machine rayon to carry one strand of gold or silver metallic.

Needing a little mindless escapism, I am watching the American Music Awards. For a few minutes, I was feeling lost and out of touch.

After a few more minutes, I realized that it wasn't I who was lost and out of touch.  There is nothing enduring going on there at all.

Here is where I find the most meaning and fun lately. I spend thursdays and fridays with Charlie and experience the world anew through his eyes.

playing catch up

this scrap pulled me in this morning

Lest ye think I either shuffled off this mortal coil or have been snatched into the witness protection program. No excuses beyond being absorbed by life and it's trivialities. All the little things that make up our time. I've been needing to buy some new 1.75 reading glasses. The last pairs I bought were cheap and are warped and scratched. My eyes have been tired from fighting with them, so there's been no stitching at all this whole week until this morning.

"codelines" continues

I left the space heater on in the studio knowing that the morning light would be waiting for me in the sewing chair. It's passed now, an hour is enough. I'm lingering over this piece like a box of truffles. There will be another right behind it or maybe, a kid quilt or two. No Christmas gifts. I won't put myself under the gun like that. It's enough that I've promised my crit partner a rough draft manuscript by New Years!

the marked day

I hate the way the calendar we use wobbles through time. Dates falling on different days, year in and year out. The sloppy flux of numbers on paper. One day, more or less, in a whole month of days, so I'm not going to pin any crown of thorns on this one.

By some fool's measure of time, it's been two years since Jimmy had to leave us. On some days, it feels like forever; on others, just yesterday. It's been hard on all of us who counted on his love, his calm presence, his confidence in all things.

He and I never talked about this day as if not believing it would come could hold it back. Yes, once or twice toward the end. We made our promises to each other and kept them. He is proud.

We do what we must, what he would insist we do. Live life and love it, joys and heartaches coming in all flavors, bitter to achingly sweet. I don't feel as if he is receding from me in time. Each day that passes brings me closer in time to where he is.

So here's to you my darling. All my love, all my life.

seething

On a gentle note, our feline codger, Voodoo appears to be on the mend, taking larger portions of food. Sitting up and complaining loudly about the room service and hogging the bed.

The weather got seriously cold overnight and I got the rest of the houseplants in at the last minute. This morning, from the prime seat in the bathroom, I observed something moving the jungle vines of the jojoba plant. Something as yet unseen lurks.

The french knots continue to blossom on "code lines". and speaking of french...

The tragedy in Paris.

I have no platitudes here. No merciful thoughts for the innocents. I want to run through a crowd of these animals and help them to their damned reward with my rusty machete. And won't they be shocked when they find out just how pissed off Allah is at their actions and attitudes. I am out of patience with religious fanatics of every stripe.

Contemplative stitching is difficult when what I really want to do is paint the streets with the  blood and brains of terrorists.

Pause for Crass Commercialism...

...which means somebody needs something that costs money!

In case you were wondering just what a Fat Baggy was, this picture should help clarify and what a deal they are.  First, there is tea and an episode or two of "Downton Abbey" reruns or something like it - engaging but not demanding. "Predator" and "Aliens" work just as well.

I sit with one or two large tubs of random, hand dyed cloth and select small pieces making sure I don't repeat myself. Then I roll them up like tiny Cuban cigars and cram them into these little bubble mailers until I can just barely fold the flap over and pull the glue strip. And people buy them!

I've learned it's smart to write the address on the envelope before I stuff it. Writing on the stuffed ones is like writing on an angry hippo. On average they weigh out at the post office to be 1.5 pounds, give or take an ounce.

I'm working from these two tubs right now. There are at least six more. My stock is well churned and shuffled through. Some of these pieces go back to dye sessions from several years ago.  If you've bought one in the past six months, I'm willing to bet that you've already used up much of it.  Time to restock!!

respite

A little sunshine, a spoonful or two of kitten food and some water. Voodoo may be working on his tenth or eleventh life.

He curled up next to me  last night and I listened to him breathe, his purring like a locomotive idling in a siding. Little by little he quieted and the spaces between breaths grew so very long.

More sun and warmth for him tomorrow. He can watch me drag all those houseplants indoors. Winter will be hard on him this year.




It was clumsy, but I stitched with him in my lap for as long as I could hold the position. The swarms of french knots are working out nicely. There's always tape for cat hair.

anchors

The Kantha stitching was gone with a flick of the pick and left a few rows of shadows that will fail as I handle this piece.   As I suspected, the solution is my old favorite, the French Knot. They do the construction work and yet remain unobtrusive, only gaining design strength if I group them or make them fall in lines. These are done with four strands of 12wt Sulky cotton. There will be lots more.

I'm kind of in vigil mode today.  Voodoo is feeling every bit of his seventeen years on the planet and is needing a lot of attention. He spent the night with me last night, mostly cause he couldn't get up and relocate.

ongoing stitchery

I'm not liking the white running stitches. Too much going on. Quiet white space is needed here.

 I'll let it rest a while before I take the scissors to it.

a new holiday

We haven't done Halloween here in years. I got tired of handing out candy to stunted thugs and mini-hookers who didn't seem to know that the tradition called for a little verbal give and take, such as "Trick or Treat" and "Thank You!" We had many years of great trick or treating in the past complete with the one scary house on the block with the lights out. It's my turn.

My house is dark and scary on a sunny day - no decorations of any kind since I retired the lace ghosts. I'll make sure there are no lights visible from the street and spend the evening in peace.

Today I shopped for what I'll be making a new tradition, my own take on the Day of the Dead. Tomorrow there will be lasagna, music, beer and fond memories.

Tonight, I'll pamper my cold with a stitch in and sketching out a new novel. I'm going to back this with a cotton batt so I can do something with all that white space. organize it with stitch.

struggles

Got an email late yesterday. Well, me a bunch of other folks, I'm sure.
Sorry. None of your work will be traveling to Art Quilts Element next spring. 

Seems like such a long way off. All I can think about is what's happening here.
It sure makes all other endeavours look puny.

I found this scrap in with a load of socks. Looks like more B&W pieces will be in the works.