It has been several days since I wrote a blog . Now it is Saturday morning, I am eating chocolate, asking on Facebook if anyone knows of a seamstress in the area because it is harder and harder to find time to sew my clothes and I have five yards each of black and natural linen just waiting.
Lee has gone outside to gather leaves or sticks to bring into the garage so I am taking advantage of the time that gives me. It is freezing out there but the sun is shining and that is all that matters.
Yesterday I visited an assisted living home to see what it was like. It was beautiful and almost country club looking. Not quite where I see Lee, or me for that matter, but I am going to look over places that might fit him in the future. They were very kind and spent an hour listening to me and answering so many questions. I am trying to get myself prepared for whatever lies ahead.
The poetry book is finally laid out the way I want it and will go to the printers on Monday if he says he can follow my simple demands. At least I think they are simple.
My obsession with filling in my drawings continues. A friend has sent me an abundance of pens to use. None smaller than a .5 but enough of them to make lots of black sections.
After the bride came doors. Then pillows.
This morning I started the breakfast pages.
I have not got back to Ellie and her kitchen story except to say she is now outside in her garden.
…………..He never went hunting with the men he hung out with in town. He probably wasn’t asked that often. Ellie suspected that he didn’t go because it was one more thing that he wasn’t good at, shooting straight. The men never knew how many guns Gerald owned. And even if he told them, they likely would not believe him. Ellie knew this because one day she overheard one of them say, “Did you ever notice that whenever Gerald clears his throat, the next thing he says is a lie.” They laughed at that because Gerald always was clearing his throat before finding his voice. And Gerald couldn’t keep from exaggerating. A forecast of flurries was a blizzard coming. A downpour instead of showers. Like Ellie, the men would politely wait for Gerald to finish his predictions and then pick up the conversation where they left off.
I will get back to her as soon as I can. Last I saw her she was worn out and sitting on a bench.
Til later…PS Isn’t it great to not have Trump in the public eye?
Patches giving me the “look” while I draw in my book and keep up with the news. Just two more days and we can start to heal this country. But first we have to clean out the wounds. And there are so many.
I am still looking for the perfect smooth no skip super fine black ink pen for drawing. In the meantime I just keep at it.
A street of diversity.
A wedding procession verging on the bizarre is a good way to use up those heavier ink line makers.
Dressing these two reminded me to think about how much my own clothing choices have sunk this past year. I noticed getting our first installment of covid shots that some people are still combing their hair. No earrings though which I suspect has more to do with the difficulty of doing so while putting masks on and off. The women in the waiting room also had an overall more tidy look about them.
It got me to thinking that I actually choose between three pairs of pants…outer, not under. One that I am wearing now is put on easily by looking where the bigger split in the side seam is. Large slit to the left, smaller one to the right. I sewed these pants myself and thought after seven years, they’d have been tossed out, but no. They are too comfortable. And why mend them if their open seams make them easier to put on?
Another reason I don’t want to mend them is I don’t trust myself to do a very good job of it. The last pair of pants I mended are very, very old heavy linen that did not have pockets so I took scraps of fabric in contrasting colors and stitched it to where I would reach for something. I also thought they flopped around a bit too much so darted the bottom of the legs. The elastic is long gone, but I can still yank the waist tie strings enough to keep them up. And because they are the second of three favorites, I took whatever thread was handy, something more like string than thread and whip stitched the back seam back together. The pants are teal and the string/thread is white. I just remember to wear the longest of the six or less shirts I find myself reaching for.
The third pair is a simple black cotton that just gets looser and looser and makes me feel thinner. Why wouldn’t I like those? So far only the elastic waist has given out but with the side effects of covid times they manage to stay up.
Tomorrow I see my eye doctor for new tear duct plugs and will keep my jacket on. The same when I take Lee to the dentist afterwards. But that jacket is the one I bought thirty years ago and have placed contrasting patches on pocket edges, collar and cuff edges…and of course up the back to make it look stylish rather than needy. I have not succeeded there but it also has my Biden Harris pin firmly attached over the heart.
Wish us luck.
I have a bottle of champagne ready for the inauguration next week, but dread the days leading up to it. How could we possibly have bred that many willfully ignorant insurrectionists! And so many grifting politicians who manage to keep them that way. Decency surely will return….I am hoping anyway. Time will tell.
I still get away over here to the apartment to write. Ellie’s kitchen story is coming along. Just not that fast. The printer and I see the written word, paper and the “feel” of things differently. He says that I am an artist/poet and he is a printer, so of course we would not have the same vision. I have ordered the cover papers and hope to have him do the printing of the sheets that I will then fold into signatures and bind. And then with luck and effort end up with a stack of Trusting the Tether Line poetry books. I will post that stack when I get that far.
In the meantime, the daily marks book continues.
Even though a marketer says that a pen is fine line, doesn’t mean that it is. A .5 is definitely NOT a .05, which is what I was hoping for. Is it too much to ask to find a .05 black artist pen? Apparently so. I will continue to look.
I wish I knew what Edward Gorey used. Maybe his drawings were done much larger than what I see in illustration books and cards and I just think he had very fine pointed pens. It just seems hard to get those mid tones when the line is too thick to create shaded areas of small parallel lines.
Anyway, this is good practice for whenever I get back to relief printmaking.
It is three o’clock and I am going to have a glass of wine before having to go back to the house. I will drink to the friends in Australia who have had to cancel the textile conferences due to limiting crowds and border closings in the rise of Covid. It will make the next time they gather all the more special.
I’ll have a double!
Once I drew in this couch, I just had to finish it. Then the cat page.
Then just a few shoes.
I only draw in the early mornings while watching the news. But the news here has been so compelling that I am drawing more. Also could be drinking more. I reached into a wine bag our son brought down at Christmas time and this one came out! Perfect match for my new way of drawing.
The bottle has led to the next set of pages.
The couch drawing suddenly brought Edward Gorey to mind. I am going to look up more of his drawings. It was all the parallel lines that made me think of him, not the heavy black marks. Like the whiskey glass above and the Yum Rum bottle seem more Gorey-ish.
I have done more writing about Ellie. And today we get the first of two Covid vaccines. We will remain on tinder hooks while the next eight days of this administration stays in power. Stomachs are clenched and revulsion arises every time I have to go through Brasstown and see the disgusting display of Trump signs plastered around a corner gas station that fewer and fewer cars seem to be parked near.
All for now…til later.