So my spelling is a little off – this is my way of taking a really boring-sounding activity and giving it a little panache. Karen Fitton and I had planned to dye fabric on Tuesday. Nyuk, nyuk. There are those of you who are thready enough to see through my deliberate spelling ruse, and knew what I meant to begin with. I am training myself to say “dye fabric” instead of just “dye”.
When Karen and I decided to start dyeing together, we would plan our dye dates and get all gleeful about dyeing. It never occurred to either of us that when this was overheard at Magpie Coffeehouse, concern for public safety became imminent. Little did they know that if they sent the white coats, we'd most likely divest them of their attire, throw those coats in a vat, and stir them with a stick. Only the presence of polyester would save them from being re-named “the men in the blue wisteria coats”.
This is the summer of color love. We are experimenting and playing, and dreaming of other ways to create quilts – nurturing various cottons into a palette of usable yardages. Karen is the art quilter who wants her quilts to be perform a sort of functional service. I'm the functional quilter, who wants to add art to the quilts we use. I love what she comes up with, but want to spend my time making something dimensional and snuggly. She appreciates my parameters, but is drawn to more sculptural and multi-media presentations. It is a good match for both of us. We call ourselves “free range quilters”, and now we are working with our “free range fibers”.
So far we've been playing with dye recipes and low immersion dyeing. Karen, the biology major, is an egghead about measuring and mixing, and writing down recipes in rubber-gloved penmanship. I tell myself right now that I'm only interested in having scads of one-of-a-kind colors, the result of random mixing. Good thing I have Karen. I produced one really luscious neutral a few weeks ago that I want more of, but my plan afforded me one fat quarter and no recipe.
I hope we try vat dyeing next week. Not only is it a less labor-intensive way to accumulate yardage, it will give us the time to explore gradations, and the tinting and shading of color families. I can see a blue day, a purple day, a neutral day, and so forth. I gear up in learning mode almost as much as I do in design mode. The only problem with the whole subject, as far as I can tell, is that it makes really, really boring fodder for my Saturday posts. So, to zip it up a little this week, I'll tell you briefly about my adventures with The Dot.
She called Tuesday morning to check on my shoulder's availability. She wanted to know if she could use it to lean on and grow through her new status as "evicted tenant". The approach she used was interesting.
“Mom, I'm in big trouble. Really Big Trouble.”
I'm thinking, drug muling? Vehicular homicide? Pregnancy? I come from the tail end of the era when unwed pregnancy was called “being in trouble”, so that's why that one ran through my mind.
“Ohmygosh. What happened?” I didn't want to hear the answer, simultaneously wanting her to get to the point faster.
“I got evicted.”
Oh, that. I was pretty sure I could deal with that one. “Why?”
“Cats.”
“Uh, cats?”
“We aren't supposed to have them here, and I was keeping them for someone. I thought it would be okay, since everyone else in this building has cats. The eviction notice said I have three days to get out, and when I called them, they said they're going to sue me for another year's rent. I just want to talk to you so I'll feel better.”
“Well, Bobo, (we've called her Bobo since she was four, when one-year-old Tad pronounced her name that way) you're talking to the wrong parent. I'd suggest you go to the one with the law degree. He can give you the skinny on what to do in this situation, which will probably make you feel better than anything I have to say.”
After a chat with Hubba, she called me back with the news that she no longer needed my shoulder, but was wondering if she could borrow my back for a day or so -- she was thick with moving plans. Hubba had the legals well-in-hand, and The Dot had already lined up a living situation to see her through July, plenty of time to go about finding a new place for herself and her stuff come August 1st. Remarkably, everything seemed manageable, considering the suddenness of the predicament.
Tad met us at her apartment on Thursday, and it only took a few hours to sort her stuff into piles of boxes designated for various destinations. I had to marvel at her common sense when it comes to accumulating lots of junk. She is returning to the student life, as she plans to study film in graduate school, and is excellent at keeping her possessions to a minimum. It only took a few trips to the storage bin to clear her things out of the apartment. I could write a whole post about how great Tad was, joking and funning. He was unfazed when it came to lifting boxes into the van at the apartment, and out of the van at the storage bin. We were sorry to see him leave for his paying job late in the afternoon.
By then, The Dot was ready to run a couple of errands to return borrowed items, and had enlisted the help of a few muscled buddies to augment her own brute strength. They quickly emptied the place of her furniture. By nine o'clock that evening, we were done moving, it was the end of the month, and the future looked a lot brighter than the past few days would have predicted.
Karen and I plan to dye on Tuesday, and maybe Thursday, of next week. This time I'll pay better attention to Karen's rubber-gloved and masked work in the luh-BORE-uh-tory. After dealing with the picayune crisis of this week, it sounds invitingly boring to me. And, in the end we have fabric! Why did I ever doubt myself?
Copyright © July 2005 Kari E.O. Burns
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