handstories

strays

    Happening upon a fifth grader from last year's class sitting in the 3rd and 4th grade hall, "Hi, S., how are you doing?"  No answer.  

    "Is this where you're supposed to be?"  Shrug.  

    "Where is your class?"  Shrug.

    "Does your teacher know you're here?"  Shrug  

    "Do you want to hang out with me?"  Head nod, yes.  "Come on, then."  Wrapping an arm around him, I turned him toward the stairs that led up to his classroom.

         "You're just tricking me into going back!"  

    "I want to hang out with you, but we'll both get in trouble if it's not ok with your teacher.  You might not care, but I need my job.  So, let's go see what she says…"  

    Walking into the room, arm still around him, "I found a stray, Ms. W."  

        "How are feeling about strays today, Ms. Monte?"  (It was clear that she had been having a hard time with him.)

    "I love them."  

        "Great.  S., come back when you're ready." 

    He stayed with me in the 4th grade rooms for two hours- joining a reading group, helping to organize some things, and I gave him a list of questions to ask each student while they worked on their writing projects.  I kept an arm around him whenever possible.  At one point, when my arms were full of books, he put his hand on my shoulder as we walked down the hall together.  

    When it was time for me to leave, he waved and smiled as he headed back to his class.  I'm not sure which of us enjoyed the time more.

not liking this middle place

   Last night, after a weekend away, we came home to a broken dryer, dripping tub, and a phone call from Blue wanting to make a big change in his college plans.  One that we have never discussed as even a remote possibility.  After listening to his almost convincing list of reasons, I told him we needed more information, and that we would talk about it.  He then informed me that he needed to decide now!  "Now?!  But this is the first we've heard of any of this!"  

    After some back and forth, and sensing I was going to lose my temper, I passed the phone to K., who said the same things I did.  He also started out calm, and then needed to stop.   The discussion of the balance of power and money between him and us has continued through emails.

    Oh, what to do?  I started knitting and managed half a sock, K. tried to fix the dryer, we hung clothes on racks all around the living room, so we'd have something to wear today.  Moon wanted to know if we wanted his two cents worth?   There was an in unison reply of, "No!"  

    Again, I do not like this in-between place with Blue- not knowing when to cheer him and his quest for independence on, or when to wield our parental power because we do know a thing or three…  I'm going to go hang up more clothes to dry, something I know how to do.

    "I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam-I-Am!" -Dr. Seuss

Jude to the rescue . . .

    Stuck on where to go with that ikat star from Thursday's post, a few things were considered, one was even stitched on, and promptly removed.  Last night I tossed it aside, thinking of it as an "Oh, well."  

    And then, Jude's post today . . . She's written/talked/videoed about using her stitching, journaling and sketching to inform each other before, but this time, I can't even tell you exactly what or why, something clicked, or cracked, and I got it, really got it, the light bulb zinged with that fritzy-zappy sound.

    Up until now, there have been doodles of ideas for squares (although they rarely happen, usually the cloth murmurs its own ideas), and finished squares have been drawn and written about (while thinking about what they might be titled and what they mean), but there's never been a circling around between stitch, word and sketch- using a pencil for cloth problem solving.

    The moment the star was drawn, words came, the sphere appeared and quickly filled with stars, and cloths were dug through-  yellow?  no.  orange?  no.  Back to sketching… using the side of the pencil to shade in the "moon," dark gray.  One of Heike's dyed scraps was just the thing, with its added layer of earthiness.  

    It's still in the works.  I'm so glad the piece has found a path to continue on, and even more grateful for the breakthrough it holds-  the back and forth rocking Jude often talks about, a see-sawing between rhythm and intuition, a new kind of meditation.  

    Good-gravy, I love process.

not a puppet

(Here is yesterday's stitching. I'm not sure where it's going. The needle is bent, so the lines are starting to lean, too.)

    But what I want to write about are the puppets the kids are making in art class. Sitting at the back table with a small group at a time, teaching them to sew the two felt body halves together, is both exhausting and great fun.

    I wanted to take photos of them in action. The camera has traveled to school for the last three art classes, but has failed to come out of the bag in the whirlwind of fiber and fingers learning to wield sharp needles and tangles of thread.

    Over and over they shove their handwork, in a panic, into my face, which is busy leaning over someone else's muddled creation.

    "I am not an octopus," I say to them, over and over.

    One girl passed over a crazy knotted mess. (Why don't they stop when they realize they have lost control? Instead, they usually dive in head first, as if on a train that is running out of track, but rather than pulling on the brake, they plow into the chaos . . .)  I whipped the needle in and out of her twistings.

    "How, did you do that?!" she asked.

        "Magic."

    "I knew you were going to say that."

    I will try to get the camera out of the bag next week . . .

blue sweater . . . check

    Well, it took a month to knit the sweater, another one to get the button band right (third try was the charm), and then one more to stitch in the yarn ends and put the buttons on.

    The sparkly blue ones made me the happiest.

    With one lone green, because there weren't enough.

    It fits just right and is so cozy, and it also ticks another thing off of the birthday wish list.  

    All that's left is a new tattoo.   Time to get doodling . . .

heart-green

    Woke up this morning with a pounding head and sore throat.  After sending word that I wouldn't be in to work, it was back to bed.  A couple hours later, awoke again with thoughts of green and a heart.

    Hardly moving, two thermoses of tea, Twinkle by my side . . . stitched and stitched.

    All day. 

    There is no voice, but feeling better, I'll go to school and whisper with the kids tomorrow.

The Seattle Women's March . . .

    We left the house at 9:30, the buses were all full to the brim and didn't stop, so we walked the two miles to the rally.  The streets were full blocks before we reached the park.

    Approaching the park.  50,000 were expected.

    It's estimated that 130,000 showed up!

    Wonderful strong eloquent women spoke- reciting words from Maya Angelou and Cesar Chavez, and reminding us that we stood on sacred Duwamish land, and that we need to love and protect each other.

    At 11:00 the crowd began to move to the street . . .

    It took an hour and a half to travel the first few blocks.  While we stood there, waiting for the bottle-neck to inch forward, two bald eagles soared over us.

    The sea of people heading towards downtown.  K. took this photo of my good friend and me (bottom center, her with long blonde hair, me to her left in two-toned pink hat)

    Until we reached the Seattle Center at 3:15, 3.8 miles.  So very glad to have been a part of it all.  

    Riding the crowded bus home, everyone tired and hungry, but chatting, smiling, asking each other how their experience was, "Wasn't it a beautiful day?"

    Yes, it was.

it's all in the details

 (detail from "The textures of home")

    These are the places I love to get lost in.

 (detail from "A Grand Voyage")

     The fragile and delicate spots.

  (detail from "Moonlight Glitterings")

    Inside a petal, sparkle or wing.

    This last detail was inspired by a piece of beautiful ribbon-like fabric that Jude so kindly shared, along with the moon.  The sail and ship are from Deb's colorful work. 

    These have all wandered over to the shop.

meow

    I've knit up a couple of the Pussyhats for the Women's March next Saturday.  (Read about the Pussyhat Project here.)  Stitched out of leftover pinks from the stash.  A friend, who is doing the same, had a clever name for the scrappy striped ones- Alleyhats.  

    I'll wear one in the Seattle march.  The other one is traveling with the same friend to Washington, D.C..  I've asked her to give it to someone at the march, so that I'll feel like I was there in some tiny way.  

shipwreck

    I kept adding stitches, trying to make it work.  Tucking here, tacking the "water" over its edge there.  All of it dancing around the truth.  Nope, not working.  Unsalvageable.  (This is not a before, rather a during the scissor attack photo.  Oh, the horror…)

    Sometimes you've just got to let things go.  So, down she went.

    But I didn't go down with the ship.