So Herself and I were off to the pharmacy this afternoon, to pick up the usual truckload of pills that keep whatever’s left of us working. We’re in Gehennatown, where the escalator lurches up from the endless parade of numpties blown in from the street, up past the Crematorium Of Cheese, on our way back to the car, when I get a bit of an excuse-me from behind.
The salutation isn’t anybody’s voice I recognise, and it’s terribly un-Gehennatown, as it does not contain any of the following: Oi, Bastard, Ferkin’, Cahnt, Gimme, Youse or Score.
We turn to see a 20-ish chap behind us. He speaks again: “Did you do that shirt yourself? I really like the way you’ve mixed in the colours.”
We do a bit of fabric dyeing, Herself and I.
Sometimes it’s dye-lots with a specific colour theme for use in her quilting and other fabric projects.
I try to make sure some t-shirts get involved: it’s a shame to waste a mix of dye.
I’ve got half-a-dozen in these red-yellows: it reminds me of my peppers! Sometimes I get a bit involved and forget the gloves, too, which makes for inspirations in other areas.
It was pepper seed getting day when this was taken. Apart from the dye, my hand imparted a wholesome capsaicin glow and felt less arthritic than usual.
Here’s some other fabric dye pix from our previous sessions:
And in late news, Herself informs me we don’t need to wait for a warm day now. We can use the (recently-replaced) old microwave to “cook” our work.
The future looks bright, and I continue to argue that colourful beats tasteful any day.
Big thanks to the young fellow on the escalator!
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