Proclamation

The secret is out. Told my manager today. After 19 years plus, I am retiring from life at the office. Countdown to the last work day of November 15th, 2011: 84.

I shall be a full time artist. My! How well that resonates!

There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.  - A. Einstein

Many thanks to Guy Tal for that quote. Read about his journey to his creative sweet spot.

Cranky factors

After Saturday night's dinner, my friend remarked that I always get cranky when I get together with my side of the family.

True.

I sewed a little gift for my mother's birthday. She tossed it aside with disgust.

I learned my sister doesn't keep in touch with my Chicago cousin even though they went together on a cruise of the Yangtze River a few years ago. Because of my cousin involvement with Hispanic friends, advocates of immigrants' rights.

I learned my sister's fiance won't travel to any third world countries. Not at all. Explains why my sister travelled with my cousin. Explains those hateful e-mails that my sister forwards.

Another sister remarked on the abundance of gray hair. Said it makes me look old. Told me to dye it. She'll turn 60 in October.

This same sister lives next door to my mother yet arrived without her. When questioned about my mother's tardiness, she jabbered excuses. And kept jabbering until I vanquished her into the restaurant while I waited outside.

That's half the family. The other half were too far across an immense round table in a noisy room to have a decent conversation.

Yes. I got cranky.

Washed out

Yesterday was a bust. I took the day off work to attend to four different things. But the universe did not cooperate, so only one of four done. It wasn't a total loss though. Watered the vegetable garden. Cleaned the laundry room (dye studio). Made a zucchini salad for dinner. Stretched in yoga class. A day of smaller accomplishments.

Here are the neutrals, out of their dye baths, dried and ironed. Colors are a bit washed out. I may not be using enough dye. Or it's the muslin.

The light gray cloth is from leftover dye solutions. Going for a solid, it was bagged to batch. But it developed a rectangular patch and a line with slightly different hue. It had laid atop the washer, near the west facing window where I'm guessing the top layer and fold might've dried out. Couldn't tell when it was wet.

But all is not loss here either. I learned four things: the color leanings from each combination; the dye-ability of the muslin; the unflat container bottom caused funny markings on the cloth; and to give a little more thought about the batch spot. A worthwhile experiment for my first time dyeing solo.

Washout!

Can you hear the opening guitar sounds of Wipeout by the Surfaris? Don't know it? Watch and listen here. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-a, washout! Sorry, this mind works in mysterious ways.

Today it's washout. No - it's not a total failure! The other definition: removal or erosion of something by water. You dyers know!  

Yes'm! I finally dyed solo! Here're the bathing beauties.

Kinda dark. Kinda colorless. Eh?! They're supposed to be! It was an exercise to explore neutrals from three basic dye colors. Wait until they're done with their baths. Dried and ironed they'd be pretty as a peach plum! Stay tuned . . .

Reflecting life

In a public place with a lot of luggage. More than I can carry. An important matter calls for me. I am torn. Left unattended, they may not be there later.

Anxiety. Awoken I realized I've had this dream before.

Trip tik

A road trip is just the ticket for hand stitching.

I'd stitched on facings following Kathy Loomis' perfect faced quilt tute. Thanks to the three hour drive and quiet moments, hand stitching was finished before the return trip.

Attached the sleeve during minutes in the waiting room. Done! Yay! The birth of finished quilt no. 3.