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I’ve been dyeing, entertaining, gardening  . .  blogging, not so much. Part of the routine this summer is going to the Lake City Farmer’s Market  to get fabulous local and regional veggies, fruits, cheeses, and even meat and seafood.

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A recent haul included radishes, bell peppers, tomatoes, yellow carrots, apricots, snap peas, arugula, rapini, chard, garlic, and the wonderful Seastack cheese by Mt. Townsend Creamery. The package of pork chops was thawing in the fridge, and the next night we enjoyed a completely regional dinner:  Pork sauteed with raspberries and rosemary from the garden, salad with arugula, potatoes, and wine from the Columbia River appellation.  The wine traveled the farthest, about 150 miles. It was all so good!

The tomato vendors often have a bin of “seconds” — tomatoes that are just on the edge of being overripe, or scarred in some way.  Perfectly good, and cheaper!  I got a couple of pounds of them, sliced them at the equator, then grated them into a bowl.

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The skin remains behind, and all the good juicy pulp goes into the bowl, then is packaged into freezer boxes.

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Summer in a box, ready to pull out and cook into sauce, soup, or whatever, this winter.

We are now one month away from Sock Summit, and preparations are definitely moving into high gear.  Base yarn is on perpetual re-order, and I mutter grumpily about how Kraemer’s Sterling yarn is out of stock until too late. The near-constant use of equipment is taking its toll in the studios of indie dyers from coast to coast.  First, Jennifer’s second best dye-pot blew up, then one of my Rubbermaid soaking tubs developed a crack that slowly leaks water.

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The thin grey line in the middle of the picture?  Leaky crack.  I can still use the basin for soaking and washing dyed yarn if it’s in the sink, but next time I’m at Fred Meyer’s Wall o’Rubbermaid I’ll need to get a replacement.

And what have I been dyeing? Sock Summit and Ravelry are  sponsoring a contest for dyers selling in the Sock Summit marketplace, called Dye for Glory,  and I’ve worked up a couple of colorways to enter.  One goes by the catchy name of Clown Barf, a term of affection that knitters apply to particularly BRIGHT colorways.  This is my version:

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Available in my Etsy shop, of course!

We had a run of lovely warm weather, so the roses have been happy.  Here is a bloom of Just Joey, a lovely apricot rose with a delightful scent that thrives in the Northwest. No black spot!

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We had a lovely weekend attending the Science Fiction Hall of Fame inductions, along with the Locus Awards.  This year’s class of Hall of Fame inductees  is:

 Frank R. Paul

Michael Whelan

Connie Willis

Ed Ferman

Frank R. Paul was the first illustrator to make a living painting rocket ships and such  — his images were the heart of the science fiction magazine look in the 20s and 30s.  His daughters and grandson were in town for the induction —  a delightful family, with lots of stories going way back into the history of the field.  Here is Greg with the daughters,  Patricia Paul Franzke and Joan C. Paul Engle.

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The Locus Awards banquet features a lot of hilarity with a Hawaiian shirt theme — here is Greg with John Kessel, who had just finished teaching a week at Clarion West, and Connie Willis, who  MCed the Locus Awards, post-banquet.

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Connie, being a woman of exquisite taste and social responsibility, changed out of her rocket launch polyester Hawaiian shirt before the Hall of Fame induction.  Greg, making it into the trivia contest because of his Lilo and Stitch Hawaiian shirt, blew away the competition by 1) knowing most of the answers and 2) having incredibily fast hand-raising reflexes.  The prize was an autographed banana.  This year, to have a permanent memento, there were two bananas, one real, one plastic.

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The wardrobe creativity extended beyond Hawaiian shirts — there was a Hawaiian print kilt that I didn’t get a picture  of, and Erica accessorized with a a wonderful mutant purse she made.

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Part poodle, part bear, part monkey.

Perfect weather for the events, and yes, we kept watching the skies.

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The real banana bravely met its inevitable fate, with a few raspberries from the garden for garnish.

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