Next door neighbor’s yard crew showed up for the first time this season today. After asking them to take their ladder off of my Rose of Sharon sapling near the curb, I retired to the basement. Two leaf blowers went on and on but I didn’t care. My new plan. My sanctuary!
Cleaned out three bins of fabric, worked on D’s quilt until I ran out of bobbin thread, and made this little collage, above.
The initial three-house black and white was a gelatin print made with a cardboard and onion bag resist.
We just had an early and simple dinner: grilled cheese sandwiches and leftover soup. For real sustenance, we listened to Biden’s speech from this morning.
I’m not talking about the rise of tyranny around the globe, the shameless demagoguery of racist GOP Senators, or the horror show of Ukraine. I’m talking about unfinished quilts, books I have purchased but not yet read, and inherited and collected stuff that needs sorted.
Also yesterday I made the mistake of reading a few sections of a journal from 1995. Whew! Fortunately this is not a forum to discuss such matters but let me just say I see the value of re-instituting a practice of self-forgiveness.
These are mostly first world problems and they exist in a terrain of gratitude, but they also are harsh enough to create a choking sensation.
So today I picked one particularly bothersome unfinished quilt and resumed work on it. Because I can. Because it’s do-able. It’s a loosely-patterned log cabin in blues and greens, sized for a couch. It’s intended for D. Part of why it’s been languishing is that in several places I pleated the back by accident. Ugh. Initially, I started unpicking but got discouraged and gave it up.
I’ve decided to keep going and sew right over the pleats and then create a new back instead. It’s not a great fix, but the result will be functional and pretty enough.
This involved clearing off the work surface, threading the machine and bobbin with new thread, and finding my grippy-gloves.
Long-married couples with dogs joke that they ought to greet their partner with all the enthusiasm and love with which they greet their dog — at least now and again. “Oh HELLO! How’s my big boy? Are you such a good boy?”
On this morning’s walk I realized that it wouldn’t kill me to praise myself with the same enthusiasm that I praise my dog — at least now and again.
Finn doesn’t react to Marmaduke dog from the brown duplex. “YES! What a good boy!” I restrain my tongue recently at a couple of critical junctures. “YES! Atta girl!”
Two loud city buses lumber past and Finn doesn’t lunge. “YES! What a good boy!” I take off my semi-decent pants and new sweater before bleaching the toilets. “Atta girl, Dee!”
Finn lifts the paw irritated by a piece of salt. “YES! Good, good boy! How smart you are!” I start following query and MSWL hashtags on twitter. “Smart move, Dee! Keep at it!”
(MSWL stands for Manuscript Wish List. It’s a good resource for finding out what kind of books agents are interested in).
You get the idea.
Meanwhile, the slow down of sewing continues. Same with taking pictures. I hope this is some sort of mild seasonal arrhythmia or a function of writing-focus. But it’s weird and disorienting.
I backed and basted a small geometric study in vibrant colors and started quilting it. It’s crib-sized but I don’t expect grandchildren any time soon or perhaps ever, so why?
That’s the winter talking. Don’t mind me.
You wrote a post in spite of feeling mute and grey. ATTA GIRL! You have nothing, really, to report, but you reached out. Good, good girl!
We just learned that my brother-in-law was exposed to Covid on Saturday, so we are waiting to hear the results of his test. Fingers crossed, he’s okay.
On a more minor note, we’d been planning to have Thanksgiving dinner at their place.
All this by way of saying, I just got back from the grocery store. Rather than get a small bird for $32, I bought a hefty breast for under ten. When I got home, husband immediately lamented the absence of dark meat. True enough, and there will be no glorious leftovers for sandwiches or fettuccine but hey, I’m the cook around here and I went for simplicity.
After reading a restaurant review over at Donald McKenzie’s blog, diningwithdonald, I got a hankering for roasted cauliflower with a tahini sauce, so I bought the ingredients for some version of that as well. I’ll report back.
Mostly though today I am mildly obsessing about commas. My friend recommended the book, Eats, Shoots & Leaves for assistance. Thank you, Dan Preston! I’ve just started it and it is hilarious. Who knew?
I am more than halfway through my novel’s professionally-provided edits and I can’t tell you how many changes concern hyphens, commas, and dashes. It’s a little embarrassing but also eye-opening.
In other news, a Tarot deck arrived, one that I ordered so long ago I’d forgotten about it. The American Renaissance Tarot. Can’t wait to explore.
Also, a friend gave me an old jacket made of silk kimono scraps. I’m currently saying NO to most offers of this kind but made an exception for this. Thank you, Sue!
Lastly, a quilt I made K years back has needed repair. Some of the thinner cottons disintegrated. Appliqué is the way to go here.
