"Fabulous dye job," she said modestly.

Yes, the fabric turned out beautifully. Much credit is due to Peggy for her patient guidance. Rinsing the excess dye out of the fabric was a horrible job, though, and I spent hours Sunday afternoon bent over a bucket in my backyard plunging the fabric in and out of water which I had to refresh constantly. (Before anyone gets upset about the dye going into the ground, Peggy assured me that it would not be harmful.) We used red, purple and orange to paint the fabric, but orange seemed to be all that was washing out of it. I actually became discouraged towards the end, thinking I had done something wrong and it would bleed until the fabric turned white, but that didn't happen. (Although I may have cheated and done the first machine wash a tad prematurely ... no harm though, it turned out, as I've said, beautifully.)

The actual result is an earthy mix of red and orange and tan with swathes of purple and blues(where did they come from?) floating through. I had originally wanted to cut it up and embroider lap labyrinths on it, but I can't do that now, it is too pretty by far. So I will make a dress or perhaps a large shawl. It happens that I have a lovely macrame necklace that an ex-roommate (Marilyn Meinheit) made for me (or perhaps I bought it from her ... who can remember?) in 1971 or 1972 that matches the fabric so perfectly you'd think I planned it. I didn't. The necklace is on a gold torque and is kind of triangular, hangs down about 6 inches, and has burnt orange and brick red beads on it. So I think I'll make a dress with a nice scooped neckline to show off the necklace. As soon as Michael, my husband, gets a minute, I'm going to have him take a digital photo and post them on my website. If anyone has a pattern to suggest, let me know. I've been on the pattern websites looking for just the right thing. I have less than 2 yards though, so nothing flouncy.

Around 1982, I participated in a charity fashion show and wore a chamois-colored dress with a scooped neck that looked really great with that necklace. People suggested strongly that I buy it, but the dress was quite pricey and I didn't feel I could afford it, so I passed. I've never found the right thing again. And I hardly ever wear the necklace, although I like to look at it. So I must seize this moment!

On to another subject, I've decided to quit combing my hair. This is a direct result of rinsing the dye out of the fabric on Sunday. Houston is hot, I sweated copiously for a couple of hours, and my hair got, naturally, very damp. I have wavy hair. Clarification: Now that I live in Houston, I have wavy hair. When I lived in North Dakota and California, my hair hung as straight as a stick. I usually blow it dry to get it straight here, too, then comb or brush it neatly. I am a tidy person. Most days, I would have showered when I came in from the yard, but I had to run my fabric through the washer twice to finish it and I didn't want a cold shower, so I did the Sunday crossword and waited. Surprise, surprise, my hair dried out wavy and lovely and full. (This is important because I have lupus, which has thinned my hair over the years, a sad development I can't do anything about.) So I decided I would stop blow-drying or even combing my hair except for finger combing. Michael thinks I'm nuts, but I can prove I'm not. I had brunch with a friend today (haven't combed my hair since Sunday, although I've washed it) and she exclaimed, "You look so good! I love your new haircut." So I think I'm on to something here. Why do we treat our hair so harshly, anyway?

Ciao for now.