fingers drum steering wheel..

  Sheesh..145 or so completely boring looking cars grinding by at about 3 mph. I'm going to lay in a stock of cans of spray paint in the trunk of my car for the next time I get stuck at this crossing.


Idle minds churn weirdness;
"This is a work of fiction. If you recognize yourself and you don't like what you read, you are guilty and should shut up and go away cause I know where the bodies are buried. If you like what you read about yourself, send flowers. Or money."

comment settings

Somehow the settings for allowing comments from All and Sundry got screwed up here (imagine! who could have possibly been tinkering with stuff that wasn't broke??) and some were not able to fling flowers or poo. Please have another whack at it and let me know ....


Thanks for letting me know, Arlee. 

what's afoot

The stars out of place

(It's a scary story, that one)

Some of you have asked what I have been up to. Not a whole lot fiberwise.

I'm still working sporadically on the Grand Rêver (below) which is coming along nicely, if predictably. The majority of my creative time and energy has been going into writing. It's been a long time since I was swept away by the creative process and it's a compelling feeling. I've been warned by a mentor not to “write myself out” but it's the last thing I dwell on at night and the first thing I'm thinking about in the morning.

The time I used to spend in the fiber studio has been completed taken over by this tale spinning. When I look back on some of my favorite fiber pieces the titles remind me that they were often place holders for untold stories and now I'm finally telling some of them. The only problem I'm having is that I am used to sharing works of visual art in progress. It would be a bad idea to start flinging rough first drafts at friends and family – I would surely be locked up.

I'll still be fiddling with fiber from time to time and will show and tell about that here especially since the new dye season will be on us before you know it and piles of white fabric sitting around just waiting to be reborn in color get my attention just like a blank page of paper.

a fork in the river

These two pieces of cloth are taking on an unintended significance. Cloth too complex and strong to be cut up and incorporated into a larger whole are like memories too deep and dark to be transcribed. Although I love both pieces I am unmoved to do anything else with them.


I ironed both today. front and back, back and front then spread them out and and looked a good long time and it was like being in the room with two belligerent teenagers. Don't bother to meet theirs eyes if they are not yours. These two seem to have disowned me. I'm almost afraid to go digging through the rest of them.

I'm a stash busting in a big way and will be posting a lot of hand dyed cloth to the store and getting some finished things up  on the Buy Art page. A liquidation of sorts. Drag it on long enough and I could almost call it spring cleaning.

headcold

I violated the cardinal Gramma's rule yesterday and went out in the winter chill with wet hair to get about six inches chopped off the ends. Later in the day I came down with an old fashioned sneezing, eye-watering head cold. I really don't buy the connection because it's something I do all the time. More likely I picked up a germ from the swarm at the grocery store. Howard Hughes was right.

Still, here I am,abed  stoned to the gills on Alka Seltzer for colds.  If I can keep my eyes open there are books to read and feathers and works in progress to stitch on before I have to work this afternoon.

 
One of the bad things about working from home is that there is little excuse for not working as long as you can sit upright in the chair and see the computer.
 
I started my shift last night well medicated and found myself strangely sanguine and sympathetic to my hapless customers instead of cynical, impatient and superior.  Who knew "nice" came in a fizzy drink? I will have to restrain myself from greeting people with

"Happy Friday! What foolish fresh hell are you reporting today?"

I want to go see "The Artist" in a theater like the Fox downtown but I'll settle for the AMC nearby.