Finally bought some dye and have been having so much fun with optical color mixing. I decided to start with cmyk primaries to get some vibrant color options.
So far I've only mixed up the main batch of colors, but I'll split them up and create a palatte of tints and shades once I have access to a scale again.
I don't have any fancy tools and have been blending the fiber by hand, so it's probably best I have a forced break for the sake of my fingers. Once I'm done I should have a very useful set of 57 2g swatches to play with! (Plus 5 more for a set of grayscale swatches)
If I'm still up for it, I might repeat the whole thing with my classic red, yellow, blue primary dye set. For a truly massive set of heather swatches.
I'll create a comprehensive guide to all the color mixes and my process once I'm done, but in the meantime here's a mixing guide for the colors I've already done!
The ratios are presented in the same order as the wool swatches in the photo above it. I didn't simplify any of the ratios so you'll have to deal with 2:2s instead of 1:1s, oops.
For anyone curious, I used brilliant yellow, deep magenta, and caribbean blue from Dharma dyes on their corriedale wool for my base colors.
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oh elizabeth zimmerman the woman you were... what a bloody clever bind off that is i am sort of losing my mind about it
(for those wondering: tapestry needle through first two stiches purlwise, through and slip first stitch knitwise, repeat. stretches and blends in with garter stitch impeccably)
this was submitted as a one sentence horror story, but it feels like it could be an old jewish joke, like the one about the two rabbis proving g-d doesn't exist or the saying 'people plan, g-d laughs'
Even more, it sounds like the beginning -- the set-up -- of the joke. Can’t you hear Carl Reiner opening a bit with this line, or Shalom Aleichem using it to kick off a story?
Well I'm not quite an old Jewish man just yet, but let me give it a shot...
Losing confidence in Himself, G-d became an atheist. He decided to go down to Earth, to walk among humans and see how they found meaning.
He wandered the world until he came to a town, where he happened upon a pastor. "Come to our church this Sunday!" said the pastor. But G-d shook his head. "I don't believe in G-d anymore," he told the pastor sullenly. "And besides, I really shouldn't be working weekends." . . .
He continued wandering, and as night fell, he realized he had no money for a hotel. Walking down the darkening sidewalk, he passed many shivering folk, some young and thin, others old and worn and grizzle-bearded, looking not unlike himself. Just as the rain began to fall, he happened upon a priest. The priest looked him up and down, and said, "You look cold, my son. We're hosting a men's shelter at the church tonight; you can sleep there, and come to Mass tomorrow." This time G-d agreed. He slept well and was warm, and in the morning sat for Mass. They blessed him in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, but he felt beside himself and decided to leave.
By this time G-d was quite hungry. He stopped by a deli, but still had no money, so all he could do was watch the fresh steaming bagels be made. On a bench outside the deli, a man was eating a bagel with lox. As he finished eating, G-d noticed there were still some scraps of food on the waxpaper. Unable to help himself, he asked if he could have the scraps, before the man threw it away. "Please sir, I'm so hungry. I'd just like that crumb of bagel there, and that little shred of lox. I think I could make a bisl of fish last quite a while." The man shook his head. "I cannot in good conscience give you my trash," he said, "But come inside, I'll get you your own bagel. I'd offer to get you coffee—but that's trash too."
So the man bought G-d some breakfast and sat with him on the bench. "Thank you so much," said G-d. "How can I ever repay you?" But the man just shrugged and said, "I'm a rabbi. Buying bagels I don't get to eat is part of the job description."
G-d thanked the rabbi again, and ate in silence. "Rabbi, can I ask you a question? I feel I haven't been on this Earth too long, but already I've seen much misery. How do you do it? How do you still believe in G-d?"
The rabbi pondered this. "I believe in joyful things. I believe in kindness, and people choosing to help each other. And isn't that a kind of godliness?" (G-d suspected there was a bit more to godliness than that, but he let it slide.) The rabbi continued: "I've prayed to G-d every day for the last 30 years, and I will every day til I die. And if He answers my prayers, all the better! But tell me, my new friend, what's your name?" G-d hesitated and said, "It's a little hard to pronounce..." The rabbi chuckled and said, "No matter. Say, it won't be anything like Shabbos dinner, but my wife is baking a delightful fig pie today, and I'd like to have you over for dinner to enjoy it." G-d nodded. "I do like figs..."
That evening, G-d sat for dinner with the rabbi, the rabbi's wife, and their four children. The meal was delicious, the rabbi's family was incredibly welcoming. Their conversation was friendly but never prying, and the children laughed and played with each other. Several times, the youngest child tugged on G-d's sleeve for his attention before her father motioned for her to go play with her siblings. G-d began to see what the rabbi had meant about the joyfulness of life.
At the end of the night, G-d stood up to leave, and felt renewed. The rabbi said, "My friend, don't leave us so soon!" And G-d replied, "I will always be with you, for I am the Lord Your G-d." And they understood it to be true.
He had done this sort of thing a few times before and generally knew how it went. As expected, the rabbi and his family fell to their knees, weeping with joy and awe. He did not expect the youngest child to walk right up and tug G-d's sleeve again. He smiled graciously down at her, and she looked up with the wonderful bright eyes of a child who understands nothing but the urge to play. In a high voice, she said, "Knock knock!" G-d couldn't help but laugh. "Who's there?" He replied cheerfully.
Suddenly from across the room, the rabbi swore loudly and rudely. Dismayed, G-d asked, "What troubles you?" He saw the rabbi was trembling, half in rage and half in embarrassment. "I'm sorry Lord! Thank you for this, thank you so much for gracing us with your light, Baruch Atah and so on, it's just..." The rabbi swore again. "Thirty years of daily prayer, Lord, and a KNOCK-KNOCK JOKE is what you'll answer?"
hey captain-acab, this is the highest compliment i can bestow: it would not have surprised me had i found that story in a book of traditional fables in the shul library
Look, someone has to be the first to make up any traditional Jewish story, why not @captain-acab? If we all keep telling it, then in a generation or two it'll be traditional.
For all its faults Tumblr has truly ruined all other social media for me because my friends all have Instagram and are all trying to get me on Instagram more but every time I open Instagram there are like fifteen things screaming for my attention and when I get over myself long enough to start scrolling it's like. Where is my chronological dash. Where is the following-only option. Who are these people. Why are there so many videos. Everyone is screaming at me. And then before I know it I'm thirty minutes into scrolling and I haven't seen a single thing that I actually care about. At least on Tumblr when I see stuff I don't care about I know someone I follow has found a new interest.
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Knit An Nydia Hat, For Babies, Kids & Adults, Designed By Vanessa Smith: 👉 https://knithacker.com/2025/06/knit-an-nydia-hat-for-babies-kids-adults-designed-by-vanessa-smith/ 💜
“Oh, Valancy, I didn’t mean to be bad—I didn’t, indeed. But I loved him so—I love him yet—I’ll always love him. And I—didn’t know—some things. I didn’t—understand.”
(The Blue Castle, Chapter 23)
“You ought to have been more careful if you didn’t mean to get him to make you his wife!”
“O mother, my mother!” cried the agonized girl, turning passionately upon her parent as if her poor heart would break. “How could I be expected to know? I was a child when I left this house four months ago. Why didn’t you tell me there was danger in men-folk? Why didn’t you warn me? Ladies know what to fend hands against, because they read novels that tell them of these tricks; but I never had the chance o’ learning in that way, and you did not help me!”
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literally what would we do without gif makers thank you gif makers THANK YOU GIFMAKERS i love nothing more than to watch a tiny moment of a scene loop over and over and over the world is so beautiful
i recognize that my body would probably benefit from such as a yoga or pilates class but. well. not to be an edgelord but i need like yoga for assholes or something. i am from massachusetts and the vibe at these things puts me directly into fight or flight mode. why are you acting like this let me out let mE OUT
Honestly it boils down to reparenting yourself & rewiring your own neuronal pathways & telling yourself a firm “stop” when you notice your mind slipping down negative loopholes & being present in the moment & enjoying being mid task rather than waiting for it to end & not thinking of inertia as your baseline and natural way of living
So tempting to keep embarking on the same self destructive cycle over & over & over again . But at some point you have to put ur foot down w ur own behaviors & be the thing that truly saves u
“The next thing the Stirlings heard was that Valancy had been seen with Barney Snaith in a movie theatre in Port Lawrence and after it at supper in a Chinese restaurant there.”
I wonder if the problem is just her being with Snaith and her “scandalous” attire or do Stirlings have a problem with cinema and Chinese cuisine too?
“I’m going to the Port. Will you go there with me?”
His eyes were teasing and there was a bit of defiance in his voice.”
Barney absolutely heard the “I wouldn’t mind him kissing me” comment.
“They tore into and through Deerwood. Mrs. Frederick and Cousin Stickles, taking a little air on the verandah, saw them whirl by in a cloud of dust and sought comfort in each other’s eyes.”
Amelia and Christine, under a tree, kissing 🎶🎶
“Valancy, who in some dim pre-existence had been afraid of a car, was hatless and her hair was blowing wildly round her face.”
Love that for her.
“A slave to moth-eaten traditions.”
I love this sentence.
“They went to the movie—Valancy had never been to a movie. And then, finding a nice hunger upon them, they went and had fried chicken—unbelievably delicious—in the Chinese restaurant. After which they rattled home again, leaving a devastating trail of scandal behind them.”
Best date.
“Mrs. Frederick gave up going to church altogether. She could not endure her friends’ pitying glances and questions. But Cousin Stickles went every Sunday. She said they had been given a cross to bear.”
Mrs. Frederick clearly only went to church for social reasons.
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“You should have been stricter with her when she was young,” said Uncle Benjamin.
“I don’t see how I could have been,” said Mrs. Frederick—truthfully enough.
this line cracks me up every time I read this book
the supreme irony of orson scorson corson's virulent transmisogyny is that ender from enders game is like one of the most chillingly and accurately transmisogynized characters in all of science fiction
if you take the explicit notion that is in the text that peter represents masculine power and aggression and valentine represents feminine love and nurturing, which the two of them discuss when making their decision to argue one another's viewpoints in the public sphere so as to temper each of their extremities, and you read that onto the notion that is again explicit in the text that ender, a "third" child who is illegal by birth and has only been permitted to be born in hopes that he can be the goldilocks child between his siblings' poles, is somehow the fusion of both of their natures, a quality which best qualifies ender out of anyone on earth to be sent to The Child Abuse Institute for Making Boys Into Weapons and trained through homosocial abuse to view genocidal violence toward an alien other as a game to be won, an experience which breaks him completely, it kinda just is like. bruh
he is constantly wishing he was valentine and hating any part of himself that is peter. the most haunting line in the book, to me, which i can quote to this day from memory, was always after the brain implant which lets the military scientists monitor him is removed and he's ambushed (!) by a group of older boys (!!!) and he explicitly breaks the masculine code of fair fighting (!!!!!) by cheap shotting the ringleader and then stomping him on the ground, and once the fight is won and he gets away and he's completely sick with guilt and self hatred at having lashed out in violence, in his despair he says "I am just like Peter. Take my monitor away, and I am just like Peter."
my explicit goal in writing this post is to get it reblogged and spread so widely that orson scott card sees it and finally cracks her poisonous self hating little egg. it's never too late you wack bitch
