"Lentil Soup"

I went back to working on "swirlies", those big, gorgeous polymer clay lentil beads that I fell in love with last year.

Since my last post, I've been struggling with a couple of issues. The biggest is a nagging pain in my wrist. My first thought was to do what Marble Man calls "rub some dirt on it and walk it off". I went and bought a carpal tunnel splint at the local drug store, which helped, but the pain was still hanging around a couple weeks later. My doctor told me it's not carpal tunnel syndrome (Whew - my worst fear!) but tendinitis. He said it's OK to use it, just not to the point of discomfort.

The small, twiddly work I like so much will have to wait. Enter: Swirlies. They are so much fun, that I may need an intervention!

Just like when making lentil soup to eat, you throw a little of this and a little of that into the pot. With these beads, a little bit of monarch butterfly wing, flower petal and leaf cane slices, etc, you wind up with an interesting and spicy result.

~~~

The other issue which is bothering me is that when I look through my Etsy shop, it seems a bit like a split personality is running it. There's intricate bead work,

modern-looking clay pieces,

vintage inspired work, etc.

It looks like I can't decide what I want to do, when in reality, I just have lots of styles for lots of moods.

When I look at other shops, there's a sense of cohesion, a mature style with variations. Do I need to set up different shops for each style of work I do? What would you suggest?

copyright 2011 Shibori Girl

"Oops I Did it Again..."

Too much of a good thing is always bad news for me. With my recent crazed approach to bead embroidery, I've hurt my dominant hand somehow (again?!?). My penalty: I have to lay off the beading while it settles down. The silver lining is that I've been in the studio having a GREAT time with my polymer clay for the past two days.

My enormous button collection rests on a shelf: some vintage, all with interesting details. I also have a great big bag of hideous elephant gray leftover scrap clay. Lets make some push molds! I've wanted to make them for months now, but haven't taken the time. I picked some of my favorite buttons and got started.

My first mold was from an oxidized, warped metal button with a busted shank. I kept this mess of a button because I love the texture.

All it took was this first mold. After that, I set about making molds from every button in the jar. All sorts of beauty was about to happen here.

I baked all those molds...

... and, quick like a bunny, put them to use.

Before baking the newly molded cabochons, I dabbed on some pearl ex powders for razzle and dazzle. I love this whole process. My beloved buttons are preserved in their jar, and I can reproduce the intricate designs in any color I choose.

After I fired these newest treasures, I dug out the face mold I bought last Christmas and made a couple of woodland nymphs for future beading projects.

Can't you see these little sweethearts surrounded by beaded leaves and branched fringe? Hurry and get better, Hand, so I can sally forth with the ideas racing though my brain!

copyright 2010 Shibori Girl

I'm In A Time Out...

I'm in a STUDIO time out, that is. I don't want to dwell too much on yet another problem, so I'll just say that my back went out again and my leg and foot went numb, too. My doctor told me to get comfortable and wait it out, that as long as the numbness comes, and then goes, he's not too worried. If it goes numb and stays that way, we'll be taking x-rays and talking to surgeons. So, I'm out of my studio chair, parked on the sofa, and waiting for this to heal up on its own.

I realized this past week that I've been too focused on work recently. I haven't taken time for myself. I've read a new fluffy Summer Beach Book. If you haven't discovered Wendy Wax's hilariously funny books, I can recommend her latest: The Accidental Bestseller. My all-time favorite of hers, though, is Leave It To Cleavage: An Uplifting Tale. The heroine of that book owns a bra factory and all I can tell you is that in the first pages of the book she finds a photo of her husband wearing custom-made ladies underwear and in the picture he has a woman's hand on his butt. Very funny.

While I'm mostly immobile, I have been doing some beading to keep myself busy. A gorgeous Rosetta jasper cabachon is at the center of this new bead embroidered collar. I hope to have this finished by the end of this week.

Meanwhile, you can find me here on the sofa with a tv remote in my hand...

copyright 2010 Shibori Girl

I Feel Like Buffy

I feel like Buffy The Vampire Slayer this morning. My dental appointment was set for 8 AM, so I got to the waiting room early to try to settle down. This was my third visit to the Faculty Dental Practice office in the past two weeks. Having two good experiences under my hat definitely helped. While waiting for the first appointment, I felt like I was strapped to the tracks in the path of an oncoming train. Today, I saw the train coming, but knew it would stop in time.

Turns out one psych appointment wasn't quite enough to settle me down. The assistant took my pulse before the Dr started and it was revved up to 115. The Dr made sure that I'd tell him if I needed him to stop at any point. How nice is that, to feel like you have some sort of control? The exam lasted a full hour, and at the end I can say, there was no pain at all, and I have no additional work needed. Woot! So, I'm good for another six months, and hopefully by then I'll have a better handle on the meditation and can keep my pulse rate in control. I have another seven psych appointments planned to polish up my relaxation skill set.

I didn't slay the demon today, but I got a chain around its neck, wrestled it to the floor and kicked its ass. Next time, maybe I can stick a stake in its heart, Buffy-style. Thank you, everyone, who posted or wrote emails yesterday. Your encouragement and kind words mean so much to me.

copyright 2010 Shibori Girl

Time to... "Ohm"... Relax

I have been stressed out beyond what I can normally tolerate... I'm talking sweaty, nauseated, sleepless-for-a-week stressed out. My darling Marble Man has mentioned for a couple of years that I should see a dentist and get checked out. I've managed to put it off, being quite adept at changing the subject. That is, until a couple of months ago.

One day, last December, I received an email from my Dear Heart stating that he'd called UNC's dental faculty practice and found a dentist who specializes in treating patients with dental phobias. He'd gone ahead and made an appointment for me for early January. My stomach sank right before it tied itself tightly into a Gordian knot. It was here... no way to escape without disappointing my Guy.

When my appointment came around, I breathed a sigh of relief because Marble Man came down with the flu and was too sick to go with me (he'd promised, faithfully). I called to reschedule for early February, feeling a HUGE relief that I could put this impending doom in the back of my mind again.

This deep-seated panicky fear began in childhood with a dentist who had no business treating children. He had been a field surgeon in WW2 and believed Novocaine was for pussies. He thought it was funny to put a child in the chair and leave them alone for many long, tick-tocky minutes. For our viewing pleasure, on the opposite wall hung a lithograph depicting a leering, warty barber reaching into the mouth of a writhing man with a pair of pliers. In the background we could hear drills, gurgling, and smell antiseptic chemical odors.

Once a year, our family would pile into the car for the 40 minute drive to the dentist's office and a fun-filled morning of back-to-back appointments. Sometimes the appointments were reserved just for me - I had several sessions for extractions and the lovely side effect of ether-induced puking. I spent those 40 travel minutes in a full-out cold sweat. Unfortunately, I didn't realize my younger brother was having similar reactions. If I'd known, we could have consoled each other.

Throughout the years, there have been other dentists. Seemingly kindly men, they didn't believe me when I told them I could still feel pain, even through Novocaine. Drills ablazin', they'd tell me I was a hysteric, I should just suck it up, that it didn't hurt. But it did.

Fast-forward to last week. I had my first check up in 14 years with a compassionate dentist who spent the whole hour taking history and chatting me up. After checking my pulse and finding it jacked way up, he merely took a visual look around, refraining from using sharp and pointy things. He said we'd go as slowly as I need to go, and suggested I see a psychologist to practice some relaxation techniques to try to learn self-hypnosis.

I had my first psych appointment on Thursday, and I think it will help a lot. We spent an hour working on biofeedback, deep relaxation, and imagery. I'm practicing a couple of times a day with the hope that I've learned enough to get me through tomorrow morning's dental appointment for the second part of my initial check up. This time there's no avoiding the instruments. I take very good care of myself, because my grand evil plan was to never sit in a dentist's chair again for the remainder of my life. So, hopefully, tomorrow I'll hear that I don't need too much work done. Crossing fingers, closing eyes, and deep breathing here... "Ohm"

copyright 2010 Shibori Girl

“My Doctor Done Told Me”…

He said I’d have recurring back pain for the rest of my life if I didn’t lose some weight. I started a couple of years ago, and took off 25 pounds – half of what he suggested. Then I got derailed when Pooch got so sick a year and a half ago. Doing all the food prep a diet requires was just too much for me in addition to caring for our terminal friend. So, I found the pounds I lost.

For the past three days, I’ve been hobbling around like an old lady because my back has revolted. Too many cupcakes, not enough bunny food. Add to the mix the fact that North Carolina has just decided to reduce health insurance benefits for state employees who are “seriously obese” (determined by BFI), and it makes sense to take off those clingy extra pounds – all fifty of them. It seems an insurmountable task when I look at the bigger picture. Time to take baby steps… especially since can’t move very fast right now!

I had success the last time I made this vow by combining principles of The South Beach Diet and an older generation of Weight Watchers - no calculating points for me. I cut out a lot of the processed carbohydrates and concentrated on whole grains, lots of fresh veggies, lean meats, and weighing and measuring my portions.

I also resorted to counting calories, something both diet plans eschew. It’s simply a matter of physics: calories in-vs-calories burned determines weight loss. I know for a fact I can pack away a significant number of calories in a day, so I must count them to keep myself honest.

I use Fitday.com, which is a GREAT online journaling site. It takes a bit of time in the beginning. A lot of the foods we eat are not listed in their database, so I had to input all the nutritional info for those. But now, I have a long customized list to choose from each day and tracking my daily intake takes maybe 10 minutes a day. Each morning I plan my food for the day, input it all and the site calculates the caloric value for the day as well as the nutritional distribution for the day.

Here's a fabulous recipe for a high-protein breakfast. We love French toast for breakfast, but now it's off the menu for a while. Here's a substitute - I swear you'll never know the bread is missing!

Faux French Toast
serves 2

2 eggs, lightly beaten
1 C part-skim ricotta cheese
1/2 tsp vanilla
2 tsp Splenda
2 tsp butter or margarine (I use Smart Balance)

In small bowl combine the eggs, cheese, vanilla and Splenda. Mix well. Melt butter or margarine in nonstick skillet and pour in cheese mixture. Allow to cook over medium heat until browned on the bottom and the top is no longer runny. Flip and cook the second side until browned. Serve with a tiny drizzle of maple syrup.

All the flavors and texture of French toast without the bread!

Back on my Own Two Feet

Since last week's Great Walk Debacle, I've been to the doctor, who then told me to see a physical therapist to help me recover from peroneal ankle tendinitis.

To my great embarrassment, after the doctor's visit, my pain disappeared over the weekend. What the Hell? My appointment for PT was on Monday -what to do now? Even though the pain seemed gone, I could still feel it lurking. I kept the appointment, figuring I'd get some exercises to prevent this from happening again.

The therapist was very nice and full of information. The first thing he did was examine the bottoms of my walking shoes. "Hmmm.... Interesting," he said. Apparently they are the wrong shoes for my gait and they're worn out. He told me to get fitted for some better ones. I felt so sad - I love my Adidas sneakers.

They have girly pink details, cool reflective stripes, and they don't feel clunky on my feet - more like I'm wearing clouds. AND they were on sale. If I had any poetic language skills, I'd be composing a farewell homage. It would go something like this:

An Ode to Dead Footwear

So soft, so pink
It makes me think...
You are slight and fleet
As you support my
Aging feet.
I bask in the reflection
Of your silver tape,
But found myself, my mouth agape
When I am told
I must replace these shoes so old
Because of this darned ankle,
Instead of looking swank I'll
Be walking in some big
Shoes built like a pig....etc., etc

(I told you I'm no poet, right?)

When I told the PT that I liked the shoes because they're pink, he cringed and said therapists HATE to hear stuff like that. My feeling is, why can't shoe companies make athletic-wear attractive as well as supportive?

The good news is, because of my proactive treatment of the offending ankle last week, I'm already on my way to a better me. I'm to continue what I've been doing, as well as add in some mild strengthening exercises. Oh, and I can't do any fitness walking for at least a month. If I want to get some cardio exercise in, I have to go fight for a recumbent bike at the gym.

All in all, I worried needlessly last week. This injury wasn't as bad as it could have been - no amputations are scheduled for my immediate future...

"HELP! I've Fallen...

...into a Pity Pot, and I can't get out!"

Last week I resolved to restart a walking program and take some responsibility for my health. I got ONE walk in before developing incredible pain in my ankle. I mean, "OW!" I can't stand any real pressure on that foot, so I'm sofa-bound. After some internet research, it looks like I might have tendinitis in my Achilles tendon. Crap. I've had lots of experience with tendinitis and I know the pain a doctor's visit can mean: Pushing, prodding, or worse - steroid injections. I've been taking megadoses of Ibuprofen, icing the ankle throughout each day, and trying to stay off it as much as possible. After all that loving care, the ungrateful appendage shows no signs of improvement.

I spent the past week snuggling with The Beast, who seems to know something's not right.

Time to suck it up and go see my doctor. Whatever he decides to do to me can't be as bad as dealing with this pain for much longer. At least, if I need an injection, I'd get some Happy Pills for a couple of days to help with the additional pain THAT would cause. That's me - always looking for the silver lining!
~~~

Friday Update:

Saw the doctor today and he confirmed that it is tendinitis, but not of the Achilles. He thinks it's one of the lesser tendons behind the ankle bone. He assured me it's WAY too early to be talking about injections. Yay! I do need physical therapy for about a month or so, and then we'll re-evaluate. Meanwhile, I need to cut my activity level by 50%. Wait a minute! I'm already sitting on the sofa all day... Hmmmm. Do I need to start lying down during the day?!?

Well, lookey here, at what my thoughtful Marble Man just brought me! How sweet is that? He always seems to know what to do to lift my mood. (Pssst... it worked!)

I Like to Move it, Move It - New Music to Dance To

Last night I watched a movie that Marble Man recorded from the Documentary Channel called: The Sound of Rio:Brasilerinho. The subject is a native Brazilian style of music called Choro (pronounced "shor-oh" with the "r" rolled), which predates Samba and Bassa Nova. I LOVE IT! I downloaded a whole bunch of songs from the soundtrack this afternoon, as well as some others recorded by the featured artists. Now I've got music guaranteed to haul my lazy ass out of the sofa. Watch me dance my booty-licious self around the house!

Here's a sample (it even has subtitles so you can get how funny the subject is):

Wasn't that fun? Who could sit still while THAT'S playing?

While that was a very energetic song, there are also some beautifully lyrical examples like this one by Yamandu Costa:

This guy just about knocked my socks off!

~

So things aren't as bad as I thought they were yesterday. Sure I was royally P.O.'ed at myself for being lazy about my health, but today I got up at 7:30 AM and hustled out the door for a 30 minute walk. Bundled up with a warm hat, fleece jacket, gloves, and the all-important ipod, I had a very nice time: 10 minutes to warm up, 10 minutes of race walking, and 10 minutes to cool back down again. I felt wonderful afterward. I'll do that every other day this week, then add 5 minutes to the race walking section next week. I know from past experience that if I start out too fast and hard, I'll wind up in Physical Therapy for 2 months and then I'll have to start back up even slower.

Now it's a few hours later and it's still pretty cold outside. I've got the dog dressed in his "business suit" (named so because he wears it to go out and do his business).

Can I coax him into going on a short walk? It would be great to get another 10 minutes in today.

What are YOU doing to get up and moving?

~~

1/4/09 Update:

I've got to take a short break from walking - call it a false start, I guess. I was OK yesterday morning, but throughout the day I found it harder and harder to get around. My ankle is swollen! NOW what?!? I taped it up and took some motrin. Hopefully, it's just a temporary thing. My sister-in-law warned me: she said as you reach the age of 50, things go wrong and you have no idea why.

Marble Man's Cure-All "Tea"

Several people have asked for the recipe for Marble Man's "special tea". OK, confession time: this is not something he came up with. I told him how to make it for me and he did a bang-up job. He comes from a long line of tee-totalers (but it was remarkably easy to corrupt him!). When I feel cruddy from a cold, and don't want to take Nyquil during the day, I make this tea remedy and it really helps:

1.5 ounces bourbon, whiskey, or brandy
lemon
2 tsp honey
neutral-flavored tea (Lipton's or Twining's English Breakfast are best for this)

Add hot water, steep, and drink it up while it's hot. Repeat until you can no longer sit up straight :-) Guaranteed, you'll get some good naps in!

TKO - I'm Down For The Count...

The rest of my Bakathon is on hold as I muddle through my annual Christmas Cold. If it's Christmas, Kate gets a bug - set your calendars by it folks. And this one's a Doozie: total head involvement with ears and chest next up on the tour. Earaches are the worst - enough to make me cry like a big old baby. Meanwhile, my head is so stuffed I wish it would just roll off my neck and be done with it.

I'm heading out to the doctor's office in a couple hours to see what's what. It sure FEELS like I could use a nice dose of antibiotics. He could pull out his biggest, dullest needle, and I'd weep with gratidtude if it makes me feel better faster.

While I wait to get better, Marble Man took time off from work to take care of me. What a sweetie. I've had some tea laced with honey, lemon and a healthy slug of bourbon; lovely Nyquil-induced naps; chicken soup with matzoh balls; and quiet time to read this, and this. Every once in a while, I cough so hard I hack up a lung, but no worries: I just stuff it back down again.

Have a lovely Christmas everyone, and I hope I get to enjoy it soon...

~~~

Update: The good doctor proclaimed "You'll live", then gave me an antibiotic prescription in case I spike a fever over the holiday. In the meantime, I just have to wait it out. Or as Marble Man so often says: "Just rub some dirt on it and walk it off!".

Toddling off to make some bourbonated tea now...

I Got the "Bug Eyes"

So, there I was two nights ago, minding my own business, dreaming my Johnny-Depp-is-dripping-with-melted-chocolate dreams, when I awoke around 3 AM and found Pooch tangled in the bedclothes, struggling to find his way out. In the process of helping him come up for air, he reared his hard little head straight back and popped me in the right eye. It was completely dark in the room, but I saw a large, and very bright, flash of yellow light, right before I saw little cartoon birds flying and chirping around my head. "Owww!" Of course, the little turkey went right back to sleep, while I lay back with my eye tearing up.

In the morning I checked my peepers in the mirror and imagine my relief when everything looked fine - no big shiner, no swelling, or red spots. But later on in the day I started seeing a great big old floater: back and forth, forth and back.... Then, today, as I watched the same floater tripping around in my sight line, I saw shimmering halos of light had been added to the show. NOW I'm more than a little bit freaked out; I'm seeing psychedelic light shows, and I didn't do anything fun to get them!

I called the optometrist's office to explain what was going on. The receptionist said "How soon can you get here? We need to see you ASAP." Wow. Way to reassure a girl! I got to the office at lunchtime. After shining a light with the intensity of a thousand hot suns in my eye, the doctor spoke the words I wanted to hear: "No retinal detachment", which had been my first concern. "Whew!" Then she said I have a vitreous detachment, which is not immediately worrisome, but possibly can turn serious later on. I have one in my other eye which I've learned to ignore over the years. Now I have a matched pair. *sigh*

Meanwhile, I have the bug eyes from all the drops and stains the doctor hit me with. I'm DEFINITELY not looking my best!

Oh Happy Day! It could have been much worse, I know. And I have a light show to keep me entertained when I'm bored. :-)

Muffin Tops

Spring has officially Sprung here in the South. The days are getting longer and warmer, the apple and plum trees are in full flower while the dogwoods are budding and just beginning to blossom. This time of year marks the point at which I try on my summer clothes from the previous year and realize, with shock, that my muffin top is back. NNNNOOoooo! My favorite crop pants will need a button extender, and the world will just have to see flab rolls under my shirts while I whip my butt into gear and get back to my daily walks.

Today Marble Man is home sick with a cold and Pooch is snuggling with him for change. I peeled on my Nike walking clothes and girlie Adidas sneakers with the cute hot-pink details, grabbed my pedometer and ipod, and hit the road for a nice moderate 30 minute walk. A couple of easy, slow songs ran while I did my ten minute warm-up, and then I got down to business. I'm so out of shape, I felt like Tin Man moaning for his oil can. My hips and knees were creaking until well past my halfway point. But, I cruised along on my way home and then reached "The Hill": this steep short hill to my street which totally kicked my butt. I felt as though my heart popped right out of my chest. I looked back when I reached the top to see if it was laying by the side of the road. Thankfully it wasn't so I assume it's right where it's supposed to be.

Now we're in Daylight Saving Time, and I'm fully committed to walking every day after dinner (unless it's raining). If I can keep it up, I should be able to shed the final 25 pounds to reach the goal my doctor set for me last year. I'll also give up eating muffins for breakfast - no more eating a part to strengthen a part!

Eat more, weigh less?

An inspirational tale of the Amazing Shrinking Woman (again)

Last Thanksgiving I had terrible back pain - I mean, the flat in bed, gorked on muscle relaxers and pain pills kind of pain - the second episode in two years. My doctor looked me straight in the eye and delivered the bad news: to avoid a lifetime of back pain, I had to take off at least 50 pounds. *sigh* I've known that for years. I guess I wanted some professional in a position of authority to say it aloud. Be careful what you wish for, right?

5 years ago I tried the South Beach Diet and had some success. I bought the book, joined an online support group, and ate so many veggies, fruits, and whole grains that I knew every bathroom in town. Intimately. At 5'3" I was a pretty hefty gal weighing in at 180 pounds . After a year, I was down to 145. I felt (and looked) mighty fine. And it was easy. I still wanted 15 more pounds off, but somehow lost my way and wandered off The Beach. A little cheat here, a little over there, and the weight crept back. Finally, in pain from recent hand injuries (and feeling sorry for myself) I nibbled and noshed my way back up to 178 by last Christmas. Damn! Why, oh why, did I do it? I knew how hard it was to lose the first time. Now I have to do it all over again. (You can see my "before picture" in the previous California post in all my double-chinned glory.) But then things started looking up.

I have this new motivation - I mean, who wants to face their doctor to explain why she hasn't followed prescribed advice? Another New Year's Resolution: I went back on South Beach, back to the online support group, and followed the diet like a person possessed. I had a little success in the beginning, but I'm five years older now, and things aren't as easy as the first time around. I lost weight, but it was so slow, about .2 pounds a week. (FRUSTRATING!!! I want it off now!) I watched my calorie intake like a hawk - keeping it to about 1200 per day. I felt full and the weight came off. I was also exercising like crazy, taking a 60-90 minute walk six days a week. This diet, this mission, was my life, not my way of life.

By April, I lost 12 pounds. Then, my weight stabilized. I managed to chip off a couple of pounds only to see them reappear a week or two later. Over and over, I lost, then found, the same damned two pounds! This went on for about 3 months. I mean, I tripped over myself to do everything "right" and I was getting zero results. Mid-July, I called my doctor's office to get a checkup - what if my thyroid was misbehaving? They fit me in to see him the following week. But, I wanted answers now. I asked a friend, a personal trainer and nutritional counselor, what she thought. When I told her all I was doing, she said "I don't think you're getting enough calories." Waddaya mean?!?

Apparently, with all the exercise, I needed to eat a lot more calories every day - my bod was in "starvation"mode". This was so counterintuitive! The trouble was that I wasn't all that hungry. So, after my dear friend dropped this bomb on me, I whined to her "you mean, I need to choke down another 500 calories?" After threatening to smack me (most folks would love to eat an extra meal every day, right?), she said if I followed her advice for two weeks, I would get that hungry. I did talk to my doctor later. After hearing my routine, and my friend's advice, he agreed with her. He told me to eat 5 times a day and to have at least 1600 calories every day. He also ran blood work to check my thyroid, just in case (these were normal, thankfully). Finally, he told me: "make this part of your life, not the whole focus - just relax".

I followed the new plan, added strength training to my cardio, and stopped taking it all so seriously. You know what? Good advice! I've lost 24 pounds and feel fantastic. I still have 23 pounds to go to my goal, but now I can see it's gonna happen. With this recent loss, I've been sporting the "jail house" look. My jeans are falling off my hips - I really need to get new pants ... or a belt! I've given myself a queen-sized wedgie hoisting them up all day. Now that's attractive! (not)

I've weeded out my "fat clothes" with a brutal eye (sent most of them to the thrift shop). I'm under doctor's orders, so I'm not going to get fat again, right? Every 10 pounds I shed, I "go shopping" in my skinny clothes box. I try things on; if they fit, they get hung in the closet. If not, they go back in the box to be tried again at the next 10 pound mark. When they do fit, I'm super critical, thinking: "OK, it fits, but how does it make me look?" If the answer is anything but "sizzlin', smokin' hot", it's gone. The end result: I have a wardrobe that is versatile, age-appropriate, and makes me look and feel mah-velous.

I can see this will be a lifelong effort to maintain. Worth it for sure!

New Year's Resolutions

As a rule, I never make New Year's resolutions because very shortly after I make them, I break them. I stopped making resolutions because I couldn't take the guilt. This year, though, I broke my rule and made three:

1. keep my studio clean to promote good work habits
2. get strong and healthy, and
3. rework my older designs and make them even more appealing
   

Well, thanks to MarbleMan's research and persistence, we have our new vacuum to clean up our act for this new year. The studio looks like a fabric bomb went off in there, so it's time to shovel it out to prepare for this year's production. This involves getting up all those threads embedded in the studio carpeting (and pins, and beads, and...). It sounds like I'm a slob when I work, but really I'm just "focused" on the job-at-hand. So, as soon as MM stops playing with the new toy, I can get started.

2005 was a very difficult year as a result of a recurring tennis elbow. Who knew that ironing 30 yards of fabric a day was a bad idea? In April I suffered a dibilitating hand injury (to my dominant hand, at that!). My doctor ordered me to rest both injury sites for 6 months. After that I could start working for 30 minutes a day. She's saying this to someone who usually works 10 hours a day! It was torture. But now I am finally pain-free and can start my dyeing and sewing again. Crops will grow again, and the cows are finally happy.

At my last show in New York City, I had oodles of requests for jackets and blouses to be longer. So, it's time to rework the designs for that. When I use my hand it tends to cramp up on me, so part of my physical therapy for my hand is to doodle a little bit each day. My grand plan is to sketch my new clothing designs so that I can call it working.

Once the new designs are in place, it should be a little warmer outside and I can start dyeing fabric again. (The high temps now are about 50 degrees which is still a bit cold to do any substantial work). Now it's time to toddle off to do my doodling...

Shibori Girl, Fabric Mistress