the blues came on strong

Sunday morning started out with two tired old crones bemoaning what looked like a shitty weather day while waiting for the coffee to come down.  

Then, the sun broke through the gloom and an impromptu dyefest took off. I wasn't ready. Stuff was scattered all over. Colors chosen with squinted eyes from a low inventory. It got hotter and brighter by the minute. By the time I hit the deck, it was 94 and my hat for shade was a joke.

Still, I didn't hurry. I did have to stop and come inside for a cool down and waited for the sun to go over the trees before finishing. Clean up? Not likely.  

It's going to be days before any of this dries out.

I've been missing blue.

the Traveler

 I'm just so glad that it wasn't lost. Two round trips from GA to CA later, the Traveler is home.

Blue Wave

 

What else could I call it? Never intentional, but now, inescapeable. It doesn't even matter which way you turn it. Still a work in progress.

Perle investigations and shopkeeping

I'm not thrilled so far.

The white, plucked straight from the hank, has a glaze or sizing on it that tends to make it grabby, catching on itself and being snarlish.

Did you know it can be untwisted down to four single strands? Why would anyone do that when there's DMC? Just being nosy.

Next pass, I'll use the natural but I'll give it a stroke of Thread Heaven to grease the way. It's what friends do, right? 

I'm thinking that the coating is a lot about how Perle cotton is intended to be used - tatting, crocheting - those sorts of three-dimensional manipulations and not the tortures of the damned that stitchers are likely to put it through.

 Still, it works up fast and fat if you need to make a loud embroidered statement. Looking forward to running a few lines with the blue. I had to bring the hank inside for drying. Might be a day or so.

 

And speaking of thread, Friday is shipping day. If you've ordered Dirty Threads and/or Fat Baggies they will be heading out before noon on Friday. 

Please email me when they arrive. We have to keep our eye on these bastards.

blues investigations

 

Looking like turquoise, peacock and robin's egg are going to be up first. I used too much of the others to be sure.  Reruns are fun too.

the silent roar of chaos

 

.

I can't think of the expression, something about the hubris of making plans, having some kind of order to build one's life around. 

There was a time when we could count on the seasons, man-made holidays and traditions to set our thinking on an orderly path. Now we wander.

I have piles of potential on the floor around the stitching chair as if keeping it all in view will have some effect on my mood. It has not. Shortly, I'm going to scoop it all up and shove it onto a shelf in the closet. 

Worry is a pest. I only worry about things I can't control. Did I really write the word "only"??

And worry is as much a waste of emotional energy as guilt, giving or taking. Which path to follow?

Thinking about my friends in Florida. Elders that I'm too chicken to call because each time, my "How are you?" is answered by a 45-minute litany of medical gyrations. 

Thinking of a dear friend battling cancer, Distant friends in fire danger's path. In the path of dementia, vile beast. 

And my biggest fail. The past week has proven to me that I cannot do both. Work full time at night and be Charlie's copilot in virtual first grade by day. But that will be out of my hands shortly. His school opens on Wednesday.

 I stand down. 

Until I'm needed again.