handstories

Breathing room

    Still playing with the shiny new fabric.  Paired here with Deb and Tina's colors.

    These days the noisy jay fights for territory with these two.

    They sit outside my window yelling at the world, too.

    Twinkle also wrestles for space.

    Dentist appointment yesterday.  All kinds of too much.  (I talked about some of my teeth issues here.)  First the driving, something I rarely do these days.  Half an hour there, forty-five minutes back- some traffic lights were out from the wind, stop and go freeways, a few "PEOPLE!" exclamations were flung (and maybe a couple of other words).

    Approaching the dentist office, which is just off of a strip kind of a road, there were a couple of women crossing the street.  Women who make their livings walking the strip.  One was wearing a mask.  A new meaning for the term "safe sex".  The other woman made me do a double take.  She had no pants on.  A top, a jacket, and a thong.  She must have been cold in the wind.

    At the dentist- they all are very nice, but too many interactions, too many questions, "Do you want x-rays this time?"  "Fluoride?"  "Polishing?"...  I heard myself saying no to everything.  I just wanted out.  She did talk me into the x-rays, but I drew a line and refused to get the full panel one.  The regular x-ray led to discovering an issue, something needs replaced.  "Do I have to think about it today?"  No.  They didn't push.  They realized I had reached my limit.

    I was so glad to get home and stitch...breathe.  This piece, with its Threadcrumb moon, helped to center things again.

"Elsewhere"

Full days

    "Ruby" for the gem-like feel to it.

    Someday I'm going to find the perfect clear pink glass bowl that lives in my imagination.  Some days it will be empty except for the rosy light glowing inside of it, other times rose petals might float in it, or a few special marbles will roll at the bottom, and once in a while it will be filled with sea water.  Someday.

    What happens when you have five minutes in the bathroom and a pair of scissors...

    It went much better than the last time.  K didn't have to repair any oddly cut angles, and I can roll over in my sleep without getting tangled again.

    Autumn is going full blast this week- wind, rain and dark dark mornings.  I love it, except for the fact that my studio room is cold.  It has the best light, and the worst temperatures- an added on room that holds summer's heat and winter's chills. 

    I've been wrapping myself up in this length of knitting.  A few of you might remember it... Knitted eight to ten years ago from some of my first handspun, over six feet long, and called "Breathing" because of this moment.

    (I do own a shawl pin thingy, but have no idea where it is.)

    And there's been more moon play.  The story changed over and over as I worked on it.  Actually, I guess that the cloth just grew somehow, because all of the stories are still here.  No name yet... still thinking on what words will hold all of the layers.

Swell

    Cape Cod was lovely.  Hours and hours, and days and days, spent doing very little.

    We stayed in a cabin on a small island, accessible by a one lane road with a small wooden bridge.  Comings and goings had to coordinate with high tide, which would cover the road in a few feet of water.  There was a miscalculation on the first day and we had three unexpected hours on the mainland side.  That didn't happen again!

    So many beautiful beaches.

    Way too many photos of waves were taken, trying to capture the lines, rolls and feel.

    There were a couple of days spent on one beach, whole days of staring at the sea.

    Seals played close to shore (the blurry black spot in the center).

    I feel rested.

    An unexpected lodging option discovered on one of our many beach walks.

    Just before this sunset, this is the spot where I took a dip in the ocean, head under the water and everything.  I can still taste how salty it was.

    (In real life, there was a swimsuit!)

    The bit of stitching that happened on the trip was finished up yesterday.

Tools for Light

    The table today...  One of Jude's moons, with some of Deb's indigo silk, a rainbow of threads from Tina, works in progress, and all of my scissors.  They are each good at different things.  The black forged pair are able to rip through cloth with a tug, creating rough edges.  Long straight sharp cutting is done by the big heavy shears.  Only a blue speckled ring show of the small embroidery scissors, probably the most used because of their size, comfort and ability to cleanly cut small shapes.  Finally, the snips that are poking out on the right that are good for quick thread cutting and travel.  Good tools make me really happy.

    The dreams have calmed down some, still busy, but without much anxiety.

    Wasn't this morning great?  To not have that holding breath feeling that has especially hung over the last weeks.  To see and hear hope and joy- on faces, in words, songs, and the amazing beautiful poet and poem...

"...For there is always light, if only we're brave enough to see it.

    If only we're brave enough to be it."

-from "The Hill We Climb" by Amanda Gorman, National Youth Poet Laureate

Yesterday & today, inside & out

    Moon by Jude.

Holding Hope

    Creating calm.  The scrap of blue silk on the top is from Deb's indigo dying.  It's like a breath of fresh air.

    The days have been dark and blustery, but there is a moment in the afternoon when the Japanese maple glows through the window.

    Connections are everywhere.

    I remember my parents going to vote when I was around twelve.  It was dark out, they were bundling up to walk the two blocks to the grade school where the voting booths were set up in the gym.  I asked them what party they were voting for.  Dad was a Democrat, Mom is Republican.  "Then why bother going at all?" I asked.

    "To cancel each other out."

    I've started naming the tree tokens.  This is Odetta, yes, after the wonderful folk singer/activist.  This morning I wept watching this.  Satyagraha.

Greening

    Sometimes a color calls.  Green and gold make me think of Dad, and just now I'm seeing that the roses bring his mom, Rosee, into the story, too.

    Yesterday I spent a bunch of time at the computer store.  It was stressful feeling as if I only understood every other sentence, and couldn't retain any of them.  Finally, I thought to take notes.  Things are in it, and it no longer types in a cryptic language.  Now the shift button doesn't work, meaning no punctuation or capital letters, which means most passwords can't be put in.  So... a new computer is needed, and an adaptor, and another backup box, and an appointment in another town to have this old one downloaded for transferring.  Honestly, I was ready to walk away from everything.  Things grow more and more complicated, or I'm becoming more and more simple.

    Instead of making the appointment, I got lost in this tree.  Maybe I'll call next week.  One step at a time.

    "Breathing in Green" and liking how this can mean different things.

a yarn yarn

    "Knit on, with confidence & hope, through all crises."- Elizabeth Zimmerman (knitting hero).

    K. is working from home for weeks. Schools have closed for at least six weeks, so Moon is home, too, and so is the neighbor boy (Who now has LOTS of time to play his drum set.).  Museums and libraries are closed for a month.  Our singing group concert, Moon's thespian festival, K's and my getaway during Moon's festival...cancelled.

    I find myself wanting to eat potatoes and cinnamon rolls.

    The story of this yarn...

    A year and a half ago, sitting in the Providence, RI airport, waiting to fly home, there was a woman knitting.  "That is who I want to sit next to on the flight," I said to myself, "Instead of another elbowing, wide-spread-knees man." (The seat mate on the flight to RI.)

    When we boarded, there she was, in the seat next to mine!  She had just moved to Washington.  We realized that we also had the same connecting flight, and seats next to each other again (this time with an empty seat for our yarn bags between us).  She had a bag with "Prague" written on it.  I shared that Blue was going there on a college trip soon.  We knitted and chatted across the country.  

    Saying our "Nice to meet you's," I handed her my instagram link.  A few months later she reached out saying that she was the new owner of a yarn shop in Coupeville (on a nearby island).  I've been to Coupeville twice since (for Christine Mauersberger's workshops), and both times have stopped at her sweet shop for a souvenir skein.

    This one (Wonderfully Whidbey) is from last week's visit.  I'm calling this color "In Search of Blue Skies."  If you're ever in Coupeville, WA, please stop by Sea Bre's Yarn shop and say "Hi!" from her old seat mate.

    So, today I'm knitting on, with hope, if not confidence, that things will be ok.  Twinkle and I will learn to share our daytime space.  Although, she did have to yell at Moon to get out of her birdwatching chair this morning.

goings & comings

    During a quiet peaceful day alone with stitching yesterday, this story of home showed up.  It's about leaving, staying, being there, and wanting to know that are all are possible.

    Come evening, some things fell apart.  It was 9:00pm, and I needed a break.  Some wine had already happened, so driving was not an option.  I got on a bus.  

    I texted a friend, who lives on my bus line.  She was downtown at a concert, not home.  So I kept riding.  Half an hour later, across town, I got off and walked to the stop heading home.

    A moment after boarding, the friend texted that her date was leaving the concert early, if I could get to the theater, she'd try to get me in.  The bus app said a different bus was needed. Fortunately, the next stop was also for the right bus.  It was also on a dark lonely street at the edge of downtown.  When I got on the next bus, the app wouldn't work.

    I asked driver where to get off?  "You're on the wrong bus."  What to do?  He threw out all kinds of ideas.  I said that I just needed to get near 9th and then I could walk.  "Too far, wouldn't want you to do that..."  He was clearly thinking it was too sketchy of an area.  I got off near 9th, with him pointing out that the stop I should go to was just across the street.  I called out my thanks, and went the other way, down 9th.

    The theater was only six blocks away.  They were dark blocks, with a few folks sleeping in doorways, quiet and peaceful.  My friend met me outside, and attempted to bring me in.  The usher, an older no-nonsense woman, gave me the "I know what you're up to" eye, while I returned her gaze with "I'm a tired and desperate woman" eyes, and she let me go by...

    And that's how, an hour after leaving home, I was listening to Jason Mraz sing about the sun shining, not giving up, and all of the good things he wished for each of us.  It was so nice.  I cried through them all, out of weariness, and joy for the moment.  Afterwards, K. came, and drove me home.

grateful for moments

    Late afternoon yesterday, I was so happy for this moment while stitching... A tiny mid-stitch moment when I could see where this piece might want to go.  It felt like falling in love.  

    It was a swell break from the overwhelmed breaths that seem to be filling the days.  There's just too much going on, inside and out.  And I've probably said this already, but I can't remember, because of all that's going on in my life and head.  Some of it is good and/or growth/life stuff, and the rest are things I don't know how to, or want to, but need to do-  updating my browser, business things, parenting things, etc... 

    But, then yesterday, this piece was turned a different direction, and there was finally a connection.

    And later, this sunset...

    It will be ok.

    (With additional gratefulness for Jude's moon & Deb's cloth and threads)