I am so pleased

I took off the length of fabric woven with lime green on a sapphire warp.

Here it is fulled, through the washer and dryer,

ready to cut up into shirts.

First, the weave has "crazed." See all the little right to left ridges?

That's called crazing, just like the lines on old china.

It happens most frequently with "unbalanced" thread.

The sapphire warp is a very polished cotton; the lime weft is good old unmercerized.

Great visual interest when that happens, but it's not always predictable.

This fabric has such beautiful hand it's like textured water over my fingers.

It looks like the leaves of tulips in the spring.

Enough.

Here'w what happened next.

 I pulled a thread to get straight of the grain,

and cut the fabric there for the bottom of a shirt.

Don't believe the color; the fluorescent lights must want in on the action.

Ready to cut the front of the shirt. The front neckline is deeper than the back, generally.

The front is cut, per the chunks gone from the end. I pulled another thread for the bottom of the back and am ready to cut.

The sleeve. Keep your eye on that chunk of unused fabric at the right.

I will turn this unassuming little piece into true self bias.

(That's all sewer talk. Janet would be so proud of me.)

Can you see I've turned one straight edge back to meet the selvage side of the fabric, then cut open at the fold.

Thanks to the magic of the cutting pad my sister keeps on the table, the rest is easy peasy.

I laid the cut edge along one of the lines, and put the big straight edge at the two inch mark,

and with the rotary cutter made my two inch bias strip.

You can bet my grandmother didn't have it this easy.

Or mom.

OK, three shirts cut and ready to head over to the sewing machine.

Note the cones of white thread on the serger.

Sigh. Changing over is not sweet.

  

First, must find enough cones of dark green thread.

Yes, down there at floor level, and the little girls are in school.

Oh well.

On the serger and tied to the ends of the old white cones.

Through. 

Only one needle came unthreaded, but it didn't get away with anything.

Ready to rock and roll.

Shoulder seams.

That's enough.

I've made you slog through a "tutorial" before.

Let's go look at the shirt.

 Finally brave enough to use my bias for a tee shirt type edging.

I've been turning it back, like a standard facing, which is OK, but just a tad more formal.

Now my shirt is updated to the 21st century, 

and casual, too.

And I'm off to put the shirts in my Etsy shop.

The girl with the grandmother

Yesterday, having waited one hour for Emily to emerge from the slopes, I went into the lodge, found Customer Service and told the young woman behind the desk to call Emily’s supervisor and tell him to send her a replacement. The whole encounter was brief and effective. Austin (the supervisor) said she would be right out, and she appeared at the car door less than ten minutes later.

Emily did not know why her replacement was so late to work. “Maybe she was held up in traffic.” This elicited a snort from me; there is not enough traffic on valley roads to impede any vehicle from reaching its destination on time, if the driver were interested in arriving on time.

Over these last eight weekends Emily’s dismissal time has crept from three to three forty five, as people realize she’s a non-complainer, a soft touch. “Super Bowl Sunday! Emily won’t complain; I’ll call off.”  “Saturday night date? Emily won’t mind; I’ll call off.”

We had a driving experience this morning, driving in at 7:30. Remember, there is no salt. The double S hill was quite the challenge, and with a truck the opposite direction I couldn't use the straight line for a good go at the uphill side. Baby skittered on the ascent, looking for traction, but crested the hill, rather proud of herself, and got a little pat on the dash for job well done. Told Emily I would anticipate her dismissal at 3:30, and not be there sooner.

The snow was ended and the roads plowed clean when I left this afternoon. After thirty minutes of waiting I briskly made my way to the customer service desk. The same young woman as yesterday was on the telephone and the other customer service representative was not about to convey my directive to anyone, let alone a supervisor. I slowly repeated my request that she contact the lift supervisor and tell him it was time to dismiss Emily. “Who?” I heard him question her. “Oh, the girl with the grandmother.”

It began snowing as we left the slopes this afternoon, with half an inch on the roads before we were home and another two or three inches fell this evening.

There are three weekends left of this ski season. Give me patience. Better yet, give me spring.

Snow on the birdseed cans before breakfast.

Snow on the birdseed cans after supper.

Euba, through the window. That funny streak center is the reflection of the cat perch.

And since I sort of promised no more snow pictures, here is the cat, perched.

Aren't his whiskers magnificent!

Not a snow picture

Not a snow picture; I'm through with the stuff.

Not to mention, Cargill is no longer delivering salt.

I imagine it will still go to ODOT for interstates,

but all the little players are cut off.

The road super ordered twenty five tons of ice grits today.

Won't the rest of winter be fun!

Back to another recurring topic, 

Laura has been learning how to make a picture using grids.

This one seems to be four plus grids from finished.

Mrs. P will be back in her studio for Laura's next session, in March.

She and Mrs. P seem to have quite a summer planned.

More fashion design, I hear.

Field trips.

That sort of stuff.

Please, no more winter pictures. We'll do anything, please, just don't throw more winter pictures at us.

This house is the sole reason I took my camera to work today.

Can you imagine the amount in insulation under that roof?

OK, on to work, and the donut in the courtyard.

With more snow and no wind to sculpt it, all charm is lost.

Or perhaps charm left long ago.

Some day I'll tell you my opinion of a committee

putting a Jane Austen courtyard on the back of a 1920 schoolhouse,

and then adding those ugly, disproportionate lamps to the entry.

Some day. 

The township is about twenty tons short of setting a record for salt purchases.

Oh, yes, that truckload did not come to us.

Neither has the credit memo, yet.

So, the bill is in the "unpaid" pile.

Snow everywhere.

So many walks are shoveled.

And some are half shoveled.

Look at those icicles.

Ghost lips in the sky.

Sycamore and snow and spot on the lens.

I just stopped to polish it off.

Snow and Mr. Yesberger's trees.

How I love them.

Can you see waaayyy back to the last stand.

Pictures don't do justice.

Deer approaching the third tee.

Deer on the run.

At least three species of creatures got a drink.

If the snow melts there will be pictures of anemone.

The courtyard at work, last Wednesday.

The last day I went to work. Last day the girls went to school.

There have been four more inches of snow since then.

And several days of sub zero weather.

It will be zero in the morning when the girls leave for school.

I put the next warp on my loom,

And enlisted to these two to empty my bobbins when I finished.

The new warp.

I tie it to the ends of the old warp and pull it through the heddles and the reed.

Looks like spaghetti while it's being tied on.

The new warp.

It's two thirds sapphire and a third other blues and greens.

About forty yards.

I tested some of the sapphire to weave. Looks good.

I tried some light blue. Not impressed.

The lime green looks good, too.

The yellow is called "idle weave,"

to close up the V sections from tying the warp to the apron.

Back to work tomorrow.

See what happened to that load of salt.