Silly Self Portrait Saturday

Thanks to Chris, (aka StoneyCharms) who reminded me that we had agreed to a silly self portrait day one day when discussing headphones or some such thing in the etsy forums. So here goes.

HA. Just kidding. Obviously. This would be the doofus cat that still calls my house home. SOMEDAY his real mama will come to reclaim him (hint-hint christine…). He just likes to wait until I’m slaying trolls in the Etsy fora to take advantage of the most expensive fabric in the house. (Don’t worry- this gets washed on hot about a dozen times during dyeing.)

Here- thanks to my hubs, is my “discharging” get up. Sometimes you just gotta take the color OUT of something, and that throws off some really nasty fumes. I do it outside (hence the outdoor shot) with my hot plate and a “table” made of sawhorses and buckets and so on. Not something you want to dress up for. Generally- this would be done in one of the many multicolored (aka dyesplashed) shirts and crocs. and grubby pants or pjs. But we just amae back from a day out with the kids- so I threw the garb on for the modeling session in front of the hydrangea. FYI: That hydrangea is FULL of bumblebees…..

Scary eh? Maybe sometime I’ll actually do some REAL workspace pics. After I clean up my workspace.

Anyhoo- that’s me. Last time I was out doing this- in my driveway- every dog walker and kid walker happened to decide to go for a stroll by my house that day. Trust me- It wasn’t pretty and I secured my place as the nuttiest on the block.

Now that we’ve looked at that- let’s look at the cute…

Yes- that’s the asshat cat from above, looking cute so that I still feed him every day. There are two others in the house- but they are a little more camera shy.

She Dyed…

“No WAY!”  you say?

“Yes Way!”  I say.

I did, and I have proof, that indeed, I spent the afternoon rocking out with Gaelic Storm’s new album, in my basement, mixing and concocting, and soaking and rinsing.

Behold, the wrinkled, not quite ready for primetime, but sort of pretty nonetheless, batch of scarves I did today.

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They may not be colors for everyone, but I am finding, as I usually do at this time of year, a yearning for the colors of autumn.

Subdued, warm, looking like the sound of crunching leaves, but light enough to still feel like summer heat.

They should be up in the shop by tomorrow.

(and for anyone keeping count, which is probably only me…. that was a seven week hiatus from dyeing things.  Let’s not let that happen again, shall we?)

Fairwell my friend…

How do you say goodbye? If anyone has a clue, I’d like to know, because it just doesn’t sound right.

So instead I write a letter to you. Somewhere in a foreverland of snowcapped mountains and rolling hills and Scottish moors and happy dogs, I imagine you sitting down to read this. Taking a break from some intricate puzzle you’ve been building, popping into the office for a bit, leaning against the doorway.  In my head you are on a coffee break, and I guess you kind of are on a break from the meds and the radiation and the fatigue and difficulty breathing and the vision problems and the searching for words and the frustration in not finding them. A break from the cancer. Yes you are on a break.

Put down the hammer, pour yourself a glass of Laphroaig (the 15 year of course) and relax.

Hey Nick,

Back to work tomorrow and word of your leaving us will surely be starting to spread. I’m sure the guys at the site first, and then moving outward like ripples on a lake. The calls will come in and grown up tough guys will be reduced to quivering puddles again. They will be examining their own mortality. Which in a few cases, could be a good thing. But I digress.

I’m not sure I want to be there, my friend. Unless you’d like to pull in to the office driveway and stand silently, smooshing your nose and face onto my window, waiting for me to turn around and then fall off my chair in shock, like you did last summer. Or the day you came in and taped the computer mouse to the desk. You can come do that again. I promise I won’t yell. Well not much anyways. Maybe just a little, until you break out into rolling laughter. And we follow suit.  Doubled over, gut splitting, tears flowing laughter. Maybe you could do a little peanut butter on the steering wheel once more, that one was good too.

Or you could bring one of your gorgeous dogs in again. Max was it? You the proud doggy papa. Trying to convince me I needed to bring a Golden home to my family. I was convinced, you know. But the better half wasn’t so much.

You could come in and tell me about Utah, and the mountains. I’ve finally seen them, and you were right. There’s nothing like them. But you could tell me about them again, and I’d listen. Eagerly clinging to every word, we’d listen.  And show me the pictures, again.  Please.

How we are supposed to do this? This moving on, this one day at a time. We need to keep the forward momentum, but we don’t want to leave you behind.  Faith has brought me from here to Utah and back again, allowing us to leave there feeling you were at peace now. I’m digging my nails in and not letting go.  This faith is an elusive thing.  I held onto it for the last  6 months, and I promise to keep holding on , but it’s hard and a bumpy ride.

Throw us a bone, let us know that it’s all okay.  Nothing hokey, no rainbows and God light, but a good old fashioned prank.  Glue the shot glass to the table, or the phone to it’s cradle, or 12 sugars in someone’s coffee.

Then laugh so we can hear you. So we can nod and smile and bust a gut ourselves and say “It’s okay. He’s on his break.”

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Many thanks to the Nicoll family for use of these wonderful photos. He was a true friend to many and is deeply missed.

Adventurous Cat Regrets Adventure

So I cut a bunch of flowers to put on the table last night- since the lilacs were awesome.

From the cutting garden, daisy, sweet william, lilac

And indie…dear sweet kitty indie…


Wouldn’t leave them alone. As soon as I got him off the tale, back up he jumps. WORSE than the computer obsession.

So – when he wasn’t looking- I moved them to the kitchen window. He found them.

I finally had to put the out on the ledge on the porch so he can’t get to them.

He then proceeds to cry at the door, (much like he did when I had the lemon grass plant out there before I planted it) and run out every time someone opened the door to go out.

He cries, he rams his head, he scratches at the door.

He paces, and jumps on the couch, then on the shelf where the keys are just to get a glimpse of his beloved flowers.

Pace cry jump pace cry jump.

I’m trying to nap, until I hear a distinctly different cry and see this:

pacing, pacing, (and meowing)

and of course the obligatory cat butt picture…

Eventually, after about 3 minutes of frantic pacing and a final gaze out the window at his beloved flowers, he jumped down with more of a splat than feline grace, but he’s fine. I think if he hadn’t been so scared- he would have tried to go through the screen to get them.

(thanks to the hubs for his catching the action)