when the clocks strike thirteen

January 13, 2012

thirteen

Timna – you can see all the new reds you gave me yesterday in this one. Well, all the reds except the cowgirls. 

I do not know why I thought of clock faces on the thirteenth instead of the twelfth. Although I do like the star in the center. And I am pleased with the different sizes of stars. 

I took my sewing machine out to Pumpkin Patch Quilts in Lee (a town I am predisposed to like) and after some prodding we decided it needed more work that he could apply to it with me standing there. So I left it (and had to call Al from the parking lot because I was suffering from separation anxiety) and they will call me when it is working properly again. 

Today was a two horse day. Kaboose was very… spicy, having not been ridden for a day. Plus the snow was sliding off the roof of the indoor ring, which makes a noise most horses hate. It is a loud and startling noise, and I don't like it much myself, but when I don't like a noise I flinch. When Kaboose doesn't like a noise, she leaps sideways and makes snorting noises. I managed to stay on through a series of those and then dismounted of my own volition in between noises. It was exciting. 

twelve and a loaner sewing machine

January 12, 2012

twelve

I am deeply grateful to Timna for the loan of a perfectly lovely, working sewing machine, and a pointer to the people to fix my indisposed machine (Pumpkin Patch Quilts).  Audrey said there was a bakery and a bookstore to visit while they fixed my machine and the guy on the phone sounded very encouraging. So I am feeling surrounded by friends and competence. 

We attended the Winter Concert tonight. It was a very speedy one of its kind, with no jazz, and thus no jazz solos. There was some wonderful playing by the band (especially since I still vividly remember the 4th grade band, and their complete and spectacular failure on one particular piece) and three different vocal groups. Aerin was also in a small woodwind quartet that played two student composed pieces.  I got my knitting into a terrible tangle and had to stop until the lights came back on. Apparently I am still not quite as capable in the dark as I thought. 

eleven and a studio catastrophe

January 11, 2012

eleven

My sewing machine is broken! Let there be sorrow and wailing and gnashing of teeth, because I cannot function without it. Honestly, I draw with it. I'm kind frantic thinking about how to get it to the fix-it shop and what I'll use until it comes home. The circles can be done by hand, so I have no good excuse to miss any. I just have to figure out how to use what I have on hand. Which is probably good for me. If unpleasant…. 

X

January 10, 2012

X is ten

As I said yesterday, I knew what today was going to be before it got here. I even have a plan for tomorrow. After that, I’m back top freestyling! I try to make these daily pieces with less forethought, but sometimes I can see a progression so clearly it seems a shame not to make the most of it. 

IX

January 9, 2012

IX equals nine

I cheerfully admit I thought of ten (X) first, and realized both nine and eleven would nice book-ends for it. 

Today was a two horse day. I have the care and riding of sweet gray Nuada while his owner is in New Zealand. This is the norse that spends summers on Martha's Vineyard, and winters with us. I have offered to come ride him in the summe too, but they'd have to put me up in a guest-house somewhere. He is great fun, because I have more flexibility than his usual rider and he can go differently without bumping me out of the saddle. 

Kaboose was experimenting with attitude, and I had none of it. So we went forward and got in some extra cantering time to adjust and channel some of the attitude. And had a ncie ride after all. 

And then I walked up Mt Sugarloaf to see what the un-snowed Valley looked like. It was lovely.

starred feathers

January 8, 2012

eight

There is a quilt block called Feathered Star that I am very fond of. Not that I've made anything using it, but I've always liked quilts made with it. Which is probably why the title of this piece sounded so familiar when I was thinking about it. 

I'm realizing part of the problem with making a lot of small things is getting around to working steadily on larger, ongoing projects. So I'll buckle down soon and start work on some ducks. Ducks have a lovely shape to them. You'll see! 

seven = one week

January 7, 2012

seven front

I've been doing some doodling in my sketchbook, partly to get in the habit and partly for the Sketchbook Challenge (which has a blog and a Flickr Group). The theme for January 2012 is Doodling. So I doodle on paper, which is easier for me than many tings, and as I was messing about with markers it occurred to me that I knew how to do this with thread. So I did.

There are seven tiny gold foil dots on it too, continuing my counting stars theme. I couldn't find the smallest star punch, so I used a (smaller than expected) hole punch to produce the fusible shapes for the foiling. 

And, I like the back so well, I documented that too: 

seven back

fire! in a good way!

January 6, 2012

fire!!

Aerin's young man got torches for juggling, and hadn't tried them out yet, so we all piled outside to help. Aerin brought her fire poi too, and let Alice try them. It turns out juggling in the dark is hard, and juggling flame in the dark is really hard, because you can't see the handles, and you tend to focus on the flame, and it all gets pretty exciting pretty fast. The third picture is AYM working with one torch. The first one is Aerin noodling with one torch but not letting go, so it works more like poi. 

The poi, in contrast, are on the ends of chains and you spin them, so seeing them is a smaller issue, but the potential for whacking yourself in the head is higher. Which hurts like whacking yourself in the head with a (largish) superball, and chars pieces of hair and smells bad. But you don't run the risk of catching the wrong end of the torch in your hand. 

epiphany

January 6, 2012

six-epiphany

Journey of the Magi – T.S. Eliot

– T.S. Eliot

 

A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times when we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities dirty and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wineskins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

I love the word epiphany, and the meaning of a moment of brilliant insight or understanding. So today, Twelfth Night, is special for me outside of the religious meanings it carries as well. 

eponymous five

January 5, 2012

five

Eponymous means named for itself, frequently used to describe an album from a band that is called the name of the band. The group Boston's first album was called Boston. Which totally dates me, doesn't it? My favorite version of this was a band called Eponymous, and their first album was. Eponymous, that is.