handstories

known waters (PG-13)

    The other day, Moon and his girlfriend were on the couch watching TV.  I was stitching in the bedroom, two rooms away, wondering just how often I should wander through?  K. trusts much more than I do.  I was his first kiss, he was not mine.  All to say, I know what teenagers can get up to.  

    During a camping trip in 8th grade, Mom and I were alone in the motorhome.  We were not close, nor did we talk much, but I was reading a Judy Blume book with teenage goings-ons and caught her off guard by asking when was the first time she had sex.  Shocked, and shockingly, she answered.  She then proceeded to tell me that she had got pregnant on every form of birth control- condom, IUD, diaphragm, and the early pill.  This was excellent information for this 8th grader to receive.  It kept me on the straight and narrow, well, at least on the edge of it.  You better believe I shared this family history with both boys when they were in the 8th grade.  (Can we call it a family tradition now?)

    Along with all of my anxiety, and the normal awkward parental/teenage talks, we also try to have a sense of humor around it all.  Aside from the periodic "Always remember... You're from a VERY fertile family" lecture, we joke that if you have sex too young, you'll die.  It's said dead-pan and matter-of-factly as they head out the door.  

    One time, a friend and I were watching a show, a character was on the floor sobbing when teenage Blue came home, looked at the screen, and asked, "What happened to him?"

    Without missing a beat, I said, "He had sex too young, and now he's dying."

    "Oh, that's too bad," he said as he left the room.

    Surprised and laughing, my friend asked, "What was that?!"

    "Sex Ed."

dark sides of the moon

    My favorite spot in Vancouver, BC, is the scrap bin of Maiwa's.  For $5.00 you can fill a picture book sized paper bag with leftover pieces of their beautiful fabrics.  

    A few pieces of this was a really swell find. The "wrong" side is full of blue moons!

    And stories in the making...

pollinated stitching

    'Tis allergy season.  There are many naps and wishes for ocean breezes.  Stitching and thinking is quite slow until the meds settle in, which usually takes a week or so.  I did have fun texturing the waves here, and imagining floating on them.

shop & Spring

        There has been some thinking about these story cloths over the last week.  Sitting down to write about it this morning, the feelings that surround the selling of them welled up my eyes, throat and thoughts.  Mostly for wonderful reasons.  People have been so kind and generous in sharing how these makings connect with their own stories.  I'm very grateful for these gifts.

    These cloths have changed over the last three years, with more detailed stitching ("practice, practice, practice" does hone skills!) and the pieces have become more personal.  I think this comes from a deeper connection with my own story and self.  I was going to say that it feels I'm on the edge of really, truly, finally grasping something about Self, but it seems that's been thought and said here before.  Maybe that's the thing to be understood- that there's always more, something deeper that can be touched with the fingertips if we stretch just a little further?

    The other side of all of this is the business piece.  Recently there was a glitch with a sale (two people bought the same piece at almost the exact same moment, and the shop let them).  Trying to learn how to keep this from happening again has led me down a dark rabbit hole of information, and realizations that some things do need to be addressed.  It involves a whole lot of things that I don't know enough about, and/or want to, and/or are hard for me- money, technology, taxes, postage, and valuing work and self.   Heavy Sighs.  

    For today, my inner Scarlett is being channeled, "I can't think about it now.  I'll go crazy if I do.  I'll think about it tomorrow... After all, tomorrow is another day."  All to say, the shop has been updated in the same old way, with fingers crossed and hopes for no hitches. 

    And just a moment ago a hummingbird flew up to the window and perched on a branch for a few seconds, as if to make sure Spring's arrival is noticed.  Maybe I'll think about it all in summer?

another pin photo & a few thought scraps

    I was trying to think of something interesting to say here today, and instead found myself taking photos of pins.  We're all three at the tail-end of colds, which has involved a whole lot of boxes of tissues, and not a lot of thinking.

    A lot of simple squares were made and are being added to the story quilt.  It's been great to revisit old fabrics (the ones in the dusty tubs under the bed) and remember some of their stories.

    Some pieces are almost finished.  There has been lots of wishing for the ocean lately.  

    And today, some thoughts about healing- all kinds, the layers of it, and the wonder and unexpectedness of parts of it.

purple days/daze

    We had a very nice time away.  Good weather, delicious food and a fancy hotel (they brought us fresh cookies each evening!)  We walked, talked, relaxed, and these socks were started.  I'm not much of a purple person anymore, but I'm loving this yarn (it doesn't hurt that its colorway is called "moon phase".

    There were purple times...  In fourth grade I was jealous of friend who had her bedroom painted the same grape shade of the socks worn by our favorite teen idol.  I surprised my college roommate by painting our room lavender one weekend.  (I also crayoned a big bunch of balloons on one wall.  At the end of the year, unable to scrub it off, I leaned a mattress up against it in order to pass the room inspection.)  And almost all of the socks I wore during my thirties were the same shade of eggplant.  

    More lavender memories...  It was Grandma Blanche's favorite color.  The trailer she lived in was trimmed in violet and surrounded with gladiolas, irises and sweet peas.  She even bought a lilac nightgown to be buried in.

    Today I stitched down amethyst seas and thought about family, mostly Dad.  He would've been 75 today.  He turned 21 the day before I was born.  For the first time, there isn't a phone call for our birthdays, saying and not saying the same old things.  

    It's all such a tangle, and then things change.

viewing blues

    There are plans for the next few days... Moon left this morning for a Thespian conference, and K. has planned a trip away for us (it's the first time in I don't know when that we've gone somewhere alone).  

    Yesterday a cold landed in my head, along with my annual pre-birthday funk, tangled up with more feelings about Dad (who's birthday is the day before mine). 

    I'm going to go pack now, take some meds, and do my best to step out of myself and try... Maybe doing something so different will shake off the cold and the past?  If nothing else, it will be lovely to sleep in the nice hotel room that was splurged on.

    Wishing us all some beautiful views this weekend...

home building

    Home has been on my mind a lot.  What it is, what makes one, what stays with us.

    This roller coaster called parenting... it's exhausting.  We want babies, imagine toddlers and grade schoolers, but why is little consideration given for the teen years when deciding to get on this ride?  

    This was one of those weeks.  The kind that leaves you feeling completely out of control, with your hands in the air, saying, "I have no idea, and may not even care anymore."  (He'd probably say the same.)

    Friday afternoon, with K. out of town, Moon came home from school only to head out as fast as possible to spend the evening with his girlfriend.  

    "Sit down for a minute, I haven't seen you all day..."  He wouldn't, said he couldn't, she was waiting, and he couldn't wait to get to her.

    "Be home by ten," I sighed.

        "I will...give or take," he said while sticking in his earphones and closing the door.

    Conversations have become tug-o-wars.    But then, he came home at 9:58!  Sat down, and began asking questions about love...  We talked for an hour.  I said some really smart things that I didn't even know I knew.  

    Over his shoulder, heading out of the room on his way to bed, I got an "I love you, too."

    I'm thinking that it's these lovely little scraps that hold it all together.

March blur

    There was an idea, but this isn't quite what was imagined.  A way to see the roots below, but I thought they might be more visible.  Roots take time.  I wanted to consider them more.  Hmmm...

    These were put together yesterday, and they've been staring at me ever since, like a blank eyed triclops.  What do I even want to see here?  The lines in the bottom left one make me think of the railings in Munch's "The Scream".  Better not stitch on these today.

    And this morning we woke up to snow.  In March.  It's a confusing day.  It's raining, and melting now.  Maybe that will help?  And definitely more tea.

tree & troubles

    This morning, peacefully taking a few stitches on this new tree before heading off to school, I made a plan to pay attention, to watch for some lovely student/teacher moment to share here.  Ha.

    What a day... I couldn't even tell you what all happened... Inking, printing, spray bottles of water, clay glazing, markers, sharpies, etc., and lots and lots of washing tools, tables and children.

    Somewhere in there was a first grade boy who was NOT happy.  He rarely is.  He came with a support person, but still, he was under the table, out the door, in, out, in, roaming the room...  The teacher reached for the phone to call for office help, and then he really lost it.  I scrambled down the hall and stairs to find more reinforcements, returning to find him sitting still at a table.  Whew.

    The other two teachers were helping others, I sat down across the table, trying not to laugh at his scrunched up mouth and eyes, glaring and scowling as hard as possible.

    "How are you doing?"

        "Not good."  

    "Yep, you seem pretty unhappy.  The project is about drawing a happy place.  Where are you happy?"

        "Nowhere.  I'm never happy."

    "Hmm.  Where can you imagine being happy?  On vacation, in the park, by the ocean?"

        "The ocean is NOT a happy place!"  And then he proceeded to tell me a wild tale about being on a boat when he was three, being bitten by a shark and having a dolphin scold him.  It went on and on...  And then things digressed into hating art, pointing out all of the "ugly" art on the walls, telling me I was a jerk, and that if I didn't move away from him, he would stand on the table and pull the lights down...   Finally, class was over.

    "I hope you find some ways to turn things around for you," I told him as he grumbled at the end of the line heading out of the door.

        "I won't."

    During my ten minutes with him, he stayed at the table, did not climb on or under it, and wasn't yelling or disruptive.  This jerk is calling it a win.