delightful chaos

Chaos yes, but no trash or garbage. That was part of the mission yesterday afternoon. Two large bags of Garbage to the recycle and a large box of fabric sent off for someone else to "appreciate". I found whole yards of commercial fabric that I could track back to one of my earliest treks to MaryJo's 
maybe six or seven years ago. I know it's going into great hands.

As for the rest of this, little by little I'll dig it out and reorganize along the lines of some new priorities.

Dilemma #1: Can a 10x11 foot room really hold three large comfortable chairs?


and what's with those stupid wire racks taking up air in the closet?

Please don't notify "Hoarders"...it's surely not TV worthy.

Karma

It warmed up a bit today and Karma met me in the driveway when I got back from running errands and a stint at the pool. She was stamping her feet and demanding to see what was in the Publix bags. She has taken to climbing into the vehicle if you fart around too long with the door open.

Here she is taking some sunshine out on the dye deck wrapped in an old wool scarf which she did not fuss about. Lately she seems to be studying on some internal truths. Under all that fur, she is so frail I cannot tell her ferocious purr from trembling with cold.



She is becoming more eccentric by the day as her health declines. Sometimes though, I think she is just sitting around thinking up new ways to make us all worry.

I was up half the night checking on her. She decided to make camp in the boy's bathtub but was refusing to drink from the ever dripping tap- not a good sign- but she was all too happy to take water from a syringe, a teaspoonful at a time. I'm sure champagne would have gone over well. Anastasia has nothing on this Queen.  She has figured out that yowling from inside the always open dryer gets instant attention. However much longer she is with us she will be spoiled rotten every minute of that time.

gifts

I have been stalling posting about this gift, partly because I really wanted to photograph it outdoors on a warm sunny day - wishful thinking even here in Georgia. Secondly I want to write eloquently about the artist and her devotion to her family and her art but she does it so much better here.

I was gifted with this exquisite and exuberant crib quilt just by raising my hand and saying "ME" at the right time. She makes traditional,completely hand made quilts because she simply wants to. needs to.  Her reasons are complex and personal but like any artist, she wants her work out in the world, not folded up in the closet. Alhough it came to me untitled, I'm calling it "Serena's Pride".

the missing weekend

Argh...is it Monday already??  What became of my weekend? It was a blur because I spent the whole weekend in the company of cranky cats. Jim and Colin both had to work this weekend making Saturday and Sunday feel like any other week days. The big outing was a trip across town to Whole Foods where a party was going on..samples of everything under the sun around every corner, even wine.
 
So I got some reading done, cooking, cleaning, and stitching on a few different projects at once - the piece that's becoming the Monster dream and those aforementioned postcards. I decided three was plenty. It's clear to me that on any given day it's either the needle or the pen.

basking

"Now" by Clara Fialho"

Clara Fialho is a New York artist who makes magic on a grand scale, this one is 48"x60".
Nothing like starting a studio day with a little sunshine. thanks Clara!

I want to finish off those postcards  on the machine, but first, I have to find it under an avalanche of crapola but I'm not going to let housekeeping deter a little creative time. The other day a friend of ours who organizes estate sales gifted me with a large bag of really fine table linens, mosly vintage damask napkins. "Smallish" I sighed as I started going through them but after the wash and dry it occurred to me that lots of small things seamed together could create a grand grid, a starting place for whatever comes next.

I've been spending an hour or more each morning writing and it feels as if  I have been working my way down inside a nautilus shell, almost claustrophobic with the isolation of the activity. Writers  really can't just hang a work in progress on the design wall for all to have a look at; editing and rewriting are essential steps. It looks like you have to be a little bit crazy to be a writer and if you're not when you start, you probably will be once you get into it. Today I will get out of my own head for a while.