OK, Am I on Candid Camera?

In my very last post, I put up a picture of the scrap that I found at the sycamore tree while mowing the lawn on Sunday.To refresh your collective memories, it looks like this:

Today, at the base of the maple tree that sits 100 feet away from the sycamore, I found this:

Its not from the same flag as Scrap #1, since the strips are much narrower.

WTF??!???

 

Odds and Ends

Look at these cuties!

They're the new patches on my old shirts, masking (L) a stain and (R) a jagged tear from a vicious door knob.

These shirts were laying in my sewing basket for months...along with one red linen dress with a historical artifact (my drippy appetizer at a Mexican restaurant at the beginning of the summer). I was really pleased how the shirt mending came out but couldn't seem to create the right patch for the dress.

The next day (I am not making this up), I was mowing the lawnweeds and looked down to see this cradled in the errant roots of the sycamore tree.

Understand that we live no where near a parade ground. Or a flag store. Understand that in 17 years, I have never found a scrap of any fabric of any type on our property. I appreciate a sign when I see one, even if it is not really the right shade of salsa.

And in other news, the mosaic table is coming along nicely.

I have closed the nipper joint (not the blade, what do you think I am, stupid?) on the thumb of one hand and the palm of the other. I have stepped on the tiny shards that are colonizing into their own table beneath my work surface. And today, I stabbed myself with the microforceps I am using to pull up the dried tile adhesive. As I was placing each piece of the mosaic, I thought perhaps in ancient times, I would have been a tile artist. But I probably would have been dead of sepsis after the first atrium floor.