lull before the storm

I'm supposed to be doing a half-dozen different things: getting up to speed with my coding. learning how to interface with potentional cover designers. prospecting the web for images pertinent to the same.

Instead, I'm trying to keep a mild cold from becoming a spring behemoth. Thinking about looking at the ProChem site for new dye colors. Stitching alien instructions. Listening in on conversations between my characters. Shaping the plot of the next book with each stitch (telling my phone the details so they won't spin off into the ether). Worrying about distant family. Thinking about distant lives.

Low tide stuff, but action is required. Library. Orange juice.

ps : and this

Charlie Monday

Six am alarm. I drove through the dark to get there like when he was a baby. It was very foggy and I zoned out and almost missed a turn.

It's been a while since we've had a whole Monday. Screw all the presidents, we had a great time. Charlie informed me that Herbert Hoover kept pet alligators. Who knew?

What a relief for me. No news or politics. No reading, no writing, no research. No stitching or cloth. As little phone as possible. Just focus on him and the doings.

Late in the day, we watched a movie together that had us both laughing. Of all things, Shaun the Sheep: Farmageddon, probably the funniest thing on Netflix right now.

Then his Dad picked him up and I signed on to my shift, humanity restored.
.

Saturday

My sleep/wake cycles have been sacrificed to family duties for a few days. I keep asking myself if this is Sunday.

Charlie stayed overnight Thursday. All the cats see these sleepovers as an invitation to Circus. With all four of them, kid and cats, in my bed I got about two hours of sleep. I dropped him off at a friend's house for the day on Friday and was home by mid-morning. A twenty-minute nap turned into two hours and that awful "what day is it?" lost weekend feeling that persisted through my shift at work.








Saturday dawned sharp and cold. The sunlight by itself almost too harsh to work by so I balanced it with the task lamp, but I was restless. Couldn't settle into a stitch or sequence. There was editing to do and reading for a friend.

I'm resigned to let this take it's sweet time to manifest. Let it rest and not get obsessive with progress.

Gifts came. The best kind. On the bottom, a long-coveted treasure from afar. Thank you!

Colin is busy reclaiming the living room from a cluttered hoard. "Cutting for Stone", I thought I'd lost. Yet to read and want to.

The two books on the top of this pile were from deep in our disordered stacks. I'd say they've come from beyond, including a note, a slightly delayed valentine. One of my first Tarot books and Marcus Aurelius' Meditations, provenance unknown. The note was between them.

love, always

rounds

A different kind of orb.
I've started to cut away small portholes in that vast sea of green.

Sometimes there's something good underneath, sometimes not. Then I have to fiddle something into the hole.

The messages are falling into place: my characters are speaking to each other again and I am eavesdropping and making notes.

full and frosty

After yesterday's wind and rain, the temps fell. And fell.

It snowed on and off all day. Just enough to make your eyes dart around. Nothing stuck of course. Snow always gives me homesick, Christmas feels.

My tarot cards will get a waltz with the moon later.

No fear

It's interesting how some people seem to be afraid of secret messages. Rest assured, if I have something important to add to the conversation, I will stoop to crude language at a third grade level to accommodate those who need it.

 In the meantime, I watch my country try to eat itself alive . Notice the word "try".

I believe that the oppressors will choke to death on their own agenda because there are far too many good people who oppose the self-serving ugliness of the current administration.  Those who support that evil agenda will forever bear the stain of their fear and greed. We see you.

What to do? Only what one person can, one moment to the next. Be kind. Vote. Keep your knives sharp.

partial fresh starts

Just a scrap from the floor while I was rummaging through a pile of finished pieces. Still wanting to take some to the copy place to make prints.

Just a scrap but it has magic.

It was so warm out today. If I had believed the weather report and planned for it, I could have dyed thread!

As it is, I'm going to be pilfering from my inventory tomorrow for whatever greens I can find.
The work in progress is needing a lot of green.

And thrilled to have finally found my six-inch maple hoops. I started updating the holiday tablecloth back around Thanksgiving. It's been buried under a pile of miscellany since then.

Those starts. I was supposed to NOT watch the news today. Instead, I watched and listened to history as Adam Schiff gave his stunning summation to the senate.

I did get out and walk the back trail at Ron Reagan park. A whole seven-tenths of a mile if their signs are to be believed. Next time, I need to bring my own folding chair .

mending life

Taking charge of things that I can affect in real time.

I've donated, made calls, and will vote. Other than that, I'm  out.  Social media outrage, no matter the platform, is a waste of time. It's certainly no place to get valid information.

I know who my people are and will stay in touch.

This is one of my Dixie Minks, really no longer fit for wearing in public, but it's like a favorite cardigan. The right elbow was worn through and there was a "lose your glasses" hole in the chest pocket. Fixing it up was time well spent today. Worthy.

catching up the week

Shocked? Don't be. I won't have a gun in the house for a lot of reasons, but it's good to know that I can use this tool should the situation arise. The bullets were expensive and look like jewelry. Crows would steal them.

This was my first time firing a real handgun and it was pretty much as I expected. Noisy, even with ear protection, and pretty quickly, boring. You can't see it in this image, but I got him in the carrot. That is a dead snowman. I have half a box of bullets left over.

I asked for a .45, which is rather large, but I have big hands, and this was the gun I used in a scene in my book. I also needed to know if it could accidentally discharge if dropped and had that confirmed by a very knowledgeable person.

I think I know why fake gangstas hold their guns sideways. They have no intention of shooting anyone, just making a lot of noise.

This morning I was reminded of the magic of making reprographs of finished work. Maybe a trip to Fedex/Kinkos over the weekend to make some prints from new work.

Note to self - do not forget masking tape for removal of cat hair, etc. This method is SO unforgiving of the messy life of a studio.

And (drum roll, please) my editor finished reading my manuscript and I couldn't be more encouraged to go forward as a self-publisher.

There is still so much to do. I have to convince myself that production and marketing are as absorbing and interesting as writing.

Tall tale in progress.