handstories

today

    "Moons of Happiness" Summer 2002, for my baby Moon.

    Today is his eighteenth birthday.  He's at a park this afternoon with his girlfriend and a couple of friends, just as he should be.  Although, there are masks and social distancing happening.  All he wants for his birthday is a hug from her (and a car), neither are likely to happen, poor guy.

    He was my Moominbaby.  We took him outside to see the moon the night he was born.

    These eyes, from the first moment.  He was born in a birthing tub, I meant to get out, but he came too fast.  I pulled him up to me, and he looked at me with them, and I knew he was intensely Himself, and a gift.

    I was right, about both things, and still, these eyes.

monday memories: janie

(Quilts by Janie Hart 1956-1999)

    Thoughts of Janie filled the feverish night before last.  (I wrote about her here, there's also a "janie" category to click on below if you wonder more).   A pounding headache above my left ear woke me at 3am, drumming out a heartbeat rhythm.  I thought of her, how her death began with a horrible headache.  "I felt like someone had hit me in the head with a cast iron skillet."  It was a brain aneurysm.   She died two weeks later.  

    So, on the couch, head hammering, remembering Janie.  In the morning I realized it was the day before her birthday, and pulled out these two quilts by her.

    This was her gift to K and I, Christmas 1996.  It came wrapped around a sweet baby doll.   It was for us to "practice" with, since I was a few months pregnant.  A few months later, when that pregnancy ended, she drove right over, took away all of the baby things I didn't want to look at, and brought over ice cream and quilting books from the library.

    Here is the back.  She loved spiders- Anansi the trickster, Raven and Coyote, too.  

    This was the baby quilt Janie made for baby Blue in 1998.  Looking at the fabrics . . . She loved sunflowers, all flowers, would spend months planning her garden each year.  The small flower print is leftovers from a dress she made for her baby girl, and the star & moon printed pieces are scraps from a dress I made, and wore a lot when we were teaching together.  It was one of the many slow stitchings done in her sewing room (her slow was twice as fast as mine).

    Janie was so very right-brained.  Her "logic" followed whatever feeling she was having at the moment, and things were very light and dark for her.  It made for some crazy conversations, of trying to understand where she was heading, but I think it is what allowed her creative brilliance to shine through.   

    The last thought, as I waited for the aspirin to ease the thumping, was, "Well, if part of my brain is breaking, at least it's on the left side."

    Happy birthday, Janie.  I know you're somewhere basking in sunshine.

and begin again

    A new booklet.    

    I feel like my hair is standing on end with the electricity of so many ideas sparking out.

    The starry fabric was a gift from K, Christmas 1997, in the middle of being pregnant with Blue.  We were past the point where the previous pregnancy had ended, but I still refused to believe a baby would really come.  He would say, "When".   I would reply,  "If".  Afraid to hope, I stitched the stars into a baby quilt, glad to have some optimism to wrap around me.

mended at last

     Now.

    A year ago.

    Patched.

    Stitched.

    Rebound.

    Ready for some more loving.

    

reinforcements

    Canning jars make me happy.  They almost make it fun to sort through things.  

    Holes where the blanket ties were.  Extra strength is needed in order to re-tie.

    This gingham was the closest thing to the twenty-something year old clover print to be found.

    It melts in well enough.

    And look what was at the library!

    Which leads me to story number two:  The Books. (The first story,  "We Are Not Those People" here).

    There have been attempts at this organizing before, and several well-meaning books were involved.  

    First book:  Twentyish years ago, before they were trendy.  K saw me reading it.  "What are you reading?"  "I'm not going to tell you, I don't want to get your hopes up."  Just as well.   Soon after, I lost it somewhere in the house, haven't seen it since.

    Second:  It began with a questionnaire.  If you answered "yes" to more than a few questions- your organizing problems were actually emotional issues that you needed help with.  I answered "yes" to seventeen out of twenty-three.  Depressed, I took the book back to the library.

    Third:   A gift from a friend, thirteen years ago.  Feng shui based.  There was actual progress made.  That summer the basement was cleared out and organized.  Thirty boxes of donations, recycling, garbage.  Then I hit the chapter on "bowel movements"?!?  I was done.

    I think this one might have my name written all over it.

all there is

      I am obsessed with finishing this.  But it seems the more stitches that go into it, the more there is to do.

    Today I am patching the ragged edges of the back layer.

    And speaking of dominoes....

    The other task that is filling time, mind and much space...

    Trying to bring order into the chaos of my treasures, collections, passions...stuff.  I am definately in the "worse before it gets better" place.  Decades of collecting, saving, and holding on need to go.  It is so hard, I don't know how, I move things from here to there.  

    It hurts my head.

    But I am determined.  

white line fever

    Continuing on with the baby blanket repair.

    And just when I thought it was endless.

    There is an edge in sight.

wobbling along

    I had put aside the baby blanket repairing during the last dark month or so.  But there have been some sunny mornings lately that have allowed me to see the white on white without eye strain.  The stitching is easy and relaxing, almost too much so.  I find myself drifting off, daydreaming, and so my rows of stitches drift as well.  I'm working on the back layer now, row after row.  

    Because the fabric is so very thin, I decided to stitch the rows about a quarter of an inch apart.  Now that a third of the back is stitched, and there's still so much more to go . . . I'm wondering what I was thinking?  Surely, half an inch would've held this all together.  Well, there's no turning back now (though I did consider pulling out every other one of those rows).

    "Miles to go before I sleep."  

    (p.s. I'm loving the morning shadows.)

blankets

   Snow in Seattle today!  A big bunch of it for here.  Found myself just staring at branches, waiting for the clumps to fall.  (And, yes, that log is still here, five months later)

    Also working on the back of that baby blanket.  Rows and rows of white stitches.

mending memories

    Happily working on repairing this obviously well-loved baby quilt.  It is thin enough to see through in spots, and yes, that is packing tape holding it together at the corners.  

    After removing the tape, I separated the top and backing and took out the wadded crumpled batting.  Now I'm using jude's invisible baste to put the top with another layer of fabric, and will do the same to the backing, hoping to give them new strength before bringing them back together.  

    The owner of this treasure is in his twenties now.   I have never met him, but his mother has been such a help, sharing her gifts with us.  I am so happy to be able to share some of mine with her family.  Also, these hours of invisible basting are a lovely thing right now, time to let my mind wander.   I like to think that this will be passed on to another child someday, sharing all of the sweet dreams that these folds hold.