handstories

Braiding Connections

    "And Still... the Moon"

    The flying dream was a great one.  It was actually more like swimming in the sky.  Keeping my arms close to my body and wiggling like a fish, a mermaid, the movements lifting me towards the stars...

    A morning at my friends' hanging out with him while she took the cat to the vet (the cat is having health issues too).  Again, parking is an issue in their neighborhood, so I pulled up to the building, she and the cat left in my car, and I headed into the condo.  Neither he nor I are morning people, nor had we ever really spent any length of time alone together, so the plan was for us to have our coffee and tea quietly in separate rooms. 

    When I brought him his coffee, he was sitting in a comfortable chair in their bedroom listening to music.  "Here you go.  I'll just be stitching in the living room.  Just let me know if you need anything- more coffee, company, whatever."

    "Yeah, there's a book that I'm listening to that I want to get back to...  My sister told me about it, Braiding..."

    "...Sweetgrass?"

    "You know it?"

    "Yes, I've been hearing about it for years.  I've checked it out of the library several times but haven't actually opened it.  Are you liking it?"

    "Have a seat!"

    "Let me get my tea..."

    He shared about the book, and we wove in and out of topics- connection, and community, how the last weeks have been for him, them, what might come...  Two hours later, she returned, the time had flown by.

    "Robin"

    Coming home, I sat down to stitch, after going to the library website, checking out, and opening the audiobook of Braiding Sweetgrass.  What an amazing, beautiful, spirit filling book, and listening to the author, Robin Wall Kimmerer read it with her soothing rich voice is an added gift.  I'm halfway through.  It's the perfect thing to listen to while stitching.  I can't believe it took me this long to get to this book, but then again, sometimes things happen at just the right time in our lives.  I imagine that I will listen to it again and again, each time remembering a lovely morning conversation with coffee, tea, and connectionsing.

Six of One

    There was a day of halves this week, the day before yesterday...

    It started with half a night's sleep from worrying that I wouldn't wake up in time to go help my friends early in the morning. 

    Halfway to their place, it began to snow.  Parking near their condo is a challenge.  Found a place a block away.  Got halfway down the alley towards their building and realized I forgot something...twice.

 

    Once there, it was snowing harder.  Plans were abandoned.  So, I headed back home.  Taking advantage of the snowfall and throwing in a few half-truths, I canceled an unwelcomed dentist appointment for the afternoon.  The snow stopped soon after, and half of it melted away by the time of the appointment, I didn't call back.

 

    Stitched half a piece, did half of the laundry, watched half of a movie, and then halfway through the day, took half of the friends' stuff that was filling up half of our living room down to the basement, took a half an hour nap.

K came home, asked why I'd only taken care of putting half of the bread into the freezer, leaving the other loaf on the counter?  Made a half-hearted mediocre at best dinner.

 

    At half-past seven, half-way through a show, the power went out, with an ETA of 2am for repairs, half of the night.  Realizing that the leftover half of dinner was still on the counter, and not wanting to open the fridge, the container was put on the porch in the 36-degree weather.  Giving up on the day, I was in bed at 7:44. 

 

    Half an hour later, half asleep, the power came back on.  I got up, washed half of the dishes, and we watched the other half of the show.  As if nothing had happened.

What we can do

    Many thank yous for all of your love and kind thoughts on the last post.  You folks fill my spirit.

    I was alone the last few days.  The guys were all scattered to the wind with fun plans, and I was looking forward to really concentrating on stitching for the shop...  and then the last week happened.  Letting things go.  I did spend hours watching really stupid TV and quilting on the woven quilt.  Some really bad stitching in places.  Letting that go, too.

    There will be more definitive news this week, hopefully with a plan, hopefully with some kind of hope.

    Whenever I don't know what to do, I think about feeding them.  Especially her.  On Thanksgiving I spent two hours making stroganoff.  Not the kind of thing I normally do, but no one in the house likes mushrooms as much as I do. It was a good distraction, delicious, and I was so glad to be able to hand her a warm bowlful when she picked me up today.

    "Turn off the car for a minute and eat this."

    We went to batten down the hatches on their sailboat before the rains come.  While we worked, I kept hearing my dad's voice... all the things he used to say when we were out fishing, hunting, etc.  "Pay attention, you might learn something," was a favorite saying of his.

    While driving home, I fed her grapes.

    "Eir" for healing.

From within the Bermuda Triangle of Technology

    It started here, with the wonky photos last week.  There was an attempt to post on Instagram. The photos showed up as black squares.  Worked around that.  Dishwasher died.  After it leaked over the kitchen floor.  Working around that with handwashing, which I mostly don't mind.  (K. does the silverware.  I hate the silverware.)  On Monday there were more Instagram issues (for many of us).  And Typepad, this blog's platform, went completely down.  For days.  It seems to be back-ish, photos and spacing still wonky and with photos that come and go.  It feels like everything might be fading away...

    But yesterday... Yesterday, I took a bus and a ferry to join two dear souls for a day- Velma and Catherine.

    Lunch, dinner, hanging out, and time at Bloedel Reserve.  A place that I love.  With folks that I adore.

    We walked and talked among the trees, moss and ferns.  The two of them know so much.

    Such a good day.

    If not for technology, chances are I wouldn't know either of them.

    Today our internet was out for much of the day.  It appears to be working. For the moment.

“Hope in the Darkness”

Reshaping

(There are all kinds of wonky things going on with photos, comments, and spacing right now.  Crossing my fingers that I found a workaround with this post...)

    

    "Holding Memories"

    Yesterday I was thinking about how my stitching is about creating possibilities.  That stories can come together to make new places.  

    Recently, when asked if they liked me, I was told that I'm "a mixed bag".  My first reaction was sad and hurt.  Then came the thoughts, "Who says that?!" and finally, "Well, who isn't?"  Realizing that every experience is a learning adventure, I decided to be grateful to know more... about others and myself.

    "Mystique" Tree Token

    I think my stitching is about believing in the possibilities of and for stories.

    "Time, love, and work.  That's all you have.  And, hopefully, a few trips to Italy."- Maira Kalman

    Maira Kalman is a favorite soul of mine.  There were hours of listening to (gobbling up) old podcast interviews with her this week (again).  She's funny, charming, wise, and so talented.  I found out that someone I know knows someone who knows her.  Even though I will most likely never meet her, just the idea that she's only a few degrees of separation away makes me giddy.

    Nights have taken on a strange pattern.  Waking around 4 am from intense dreams (a sky full of pink moons, starlit gardens, terrifying shadowy corners...), and then drifting off again around 5 am for an hour or two more of dead to the world sleep.  The morning paintings have become reflections.

    Also, I've started playing in this "seeded notebook" made a while back.

    Really, life can be rearranged and reconnected in so many ways.

Working at Playing

    One of the things that I noticed at the workshop is how hard it can be for me to do things in a different way.  Sometimes it's because I can't think of a new way.  I want to practice playing.

    Nancy's fortune teller is helping.  Repeating the back-and-forth movements takes me back to fourth grade recesses, seeing how fast we could whip through the ritual, how tiny we could make them, trying to force friends to choose certain colors, numbers, fortunes...  (I keep picking #4 because I love seeing her searching bird.)

    Other toys on the table- Jude's beast who wanders through rearranging hills, the Venetian paperweight for peering out of the window, and the smokey quartz that likes to catch the light, or just be held.

    Recently, there was a spontaneous trip to the water.  I wanted to tell the driver, "But wait!  I need to stop at the house for stitching, book, knitting, pencil... anything to keep my hands and head busy, to not "waste" time just sitting!" 

    There was no detour to the house.  I told myself it would be ok, and that I wouldn't crawl out of my skin.  And it was.  And I didn't.  A few lovely hours were spent watching the waves, my mind drifting and floating along with them.

 

    Yesterday I loved putting these cloths from Deb L. and Maiwa's together.  Soft, thin, blue and brown.  This morning, wishing for the arcs to show up better in the lower half, I started adding echoes in white stitches.  The dark day was making it hard to follow the lines.

    Seeing that the lines were clear as day (not this day) on the backside, I flipped it over and stitched from the back, noticing that I had to give myself a short pep talk, "It's just thread.  If it doesn't work you can pull it out."  It was weird, such a simple thing, and I pull out plenty of stitches all of the time.  There wasn't even anything complicated about it, just a plain running stitch.  Once I let go of whatever my crazy is, it was fun to let go of knowing what was happening on the other side.

    Loosening.  I'm going to ponder and practice the idea of it. 

"Thoughts of Light"

Joy

    We strolled through the local botanical gardens for our anniversary afternoon. 

   A place we've gone often.  A place with memories of good and rocky times, alone and with the boys.  K likes the dahlias, for me it's the water features and wispy meadow like spots.  An old timer made a cheesy jokey compliment to me.  Something my dad would have done.  It made me roll my eyes and smile.

    "Asra" meaning "nighttime journey".

    Speaking of journeys... I'm off for the next bunch of days to attend/assist another workshop with Christine Mauersberger.  I'm looking forward to days of making and soaking in inspiration, to sitting still, spending time thinking and wondering, gathering some thoughts and sense of where I am and might want to go.  It's a tall order for a few days, but a soul can dream.

Seeing the waves...

    More seas...  I'm resting in them, I think.  A way of keeping going, no matter the to-do list, anxieties.  Things are fine, just still more of a tossed salad rather than a smooth soup.  K started back half-time today, that will help both of us.  Stir crazy does not look good on him.  Nor does my constant, "Are you leaving the house sometime soon?"  We both need routine.

    It's our 39th anniversary today.  We're both glad about that.

    There were four years of off and on before we got married.  There was a time during my senior year of high school when he would come home from college every other weekend.  During which he would break up or get back together with me, depending on what he had done the last time.  Over and over.  Two girlfriends wrote to him, asking him to end it for good, because being around me during the aftermath of these visits was making them crazy.

    We all made it through that year, and then I went to Alaska for the summer, and new drama began...  but that's another story.

    Sorry about all of the loose threads on this photo.  Didn't have my glasses on.  

More turquoise, & tea

    First fresh indigo experiment using the salt method.  Two leaves, some salt, and a scrap of cotton (it already had some iron or walnut smudges on it) and of silk.  Enjoyed the process and results very much, thanks again, Deb!

    Played with one in my dream that night.  Something I always wanted as a kid (along with Colorforms), but never got.

    While working on the turquoise patchwork from the last post, I thought about hot pink and orange.  The next day a friend handed me this beautiful silk scarf that had accidently been chewed up by her washing machine.

    It was just the right thing.

    The green side of turquoise with shimmering velvet.  Her name is "Opal".

    Someone shared the story of when their husband first said, "I love you."  A very romantic mountain top moonlit moment.  Which triggered my own memories... I said it first to K.  Sixteen, New Year's Eve, got up my gumption and blurted out, "I realize that I love you!" 

    His reply, "That's great!"  (Heart swelled with hope.)  "I realized that I love L.!"  (Deflation of heart.)  "Isn't this great, all of this love going on!"

    No.  No, it was not great, but I put on a cheery face, bided my time (knowing that L. was not interested in him), and got my declaration four months later.  Boys.

 

    Speaking of boys.  Moon has been home a week.  He is so in love with math.  There are pieces of paper like the above scattered throughout the house, representing his attempts at sharing this passion with us.  It may as well be written in ancient Greek.  He doesn't understand that we don't understand, so we nod and smile with awe.

    It's been good to spending time with Moon, having long conversations, hearing what he's thinking about (besides math), and it's been really useful too. 

    K. has been struggling with arthritis in his hip, and the fall last January pushed it all downhill.  Replacement surgery is scheduled (The first available appointment was in November!).  The steep long staircase to the bedroom is too much for now, especially since the only bathroom is on the main floor.  I did offer to move out of my studio room, but thankfully his reply was, "There is so much wrong with that idea."  So, there's been a mattress and box spring in the living room for the last month or so.  Moon helped to move the heavy furniture into a better arrangement.  At least now the bed isn't the first thing you see when you walk in the door.

"Here in the Turquoise Sea"

    Yesterday's turquoises.  The silk waves on top of the boat were the same as the brighter back wave until they were dropped into the morning tea. 

    Stitched while singing an old family favorite from when the boys were young.  Have a listen here, I'll bet you'll be humming too...

    "...They play on the beaches the colour of peaches, there by the turquoise sea, oh, my...under a blue, blue sky..."

Turquoise

    "1: a mineral that is a blue, bluish-green, or greenish-gray hydrous basic phosphate of copper and aluminum, takes a high polish, and is valued as a gem when sky blue

    2: a light greenish blue" (merriam-webster.com)

 

    Also called sea, sky, river, jewel, lake, beach glass, pond, robin's egg, ocean, and a deeply loved blue.

 

    One of the things brought home from Maiwa's was a packet of turquoise iDye.  Really, I'm not a dyer.  There is the midsummer indigo vat and the bucket full of the neighbor's walnut husks.  But there was something about the idea of "turquoise" and it being a small packet that could be done in the washing machine that created a craving.

    Even though the directions were simple and straight-forward, I was nervous.  Waiting until K. left town for a few days, so as not to have any witnesses if it all went haywire, I went to the basement.  Before getting the load going, I accidently knocked the directions and the packet behind the washer and dryer.  There is no way to reach behind them.  Ugh.  I considered climbing on top of them and leaning way over, but wondered how long it might take for a rescue, or body discovery, if I slipped?  While wondering if it might be a sign to abandon the plan, I was reminded why you do want me with you on that desert island.  A long dowel was found, duct taped around one end (with the sticky side out), both items were retrieved, and... ta-da!

    A pile of dreams.  I wish that I had taken a before photo.

    It was a mishmash of scraps of many colors, including some of that childhood rosey soft sheet.

    Moon is home for the summer.  We are settling in, figuring out routines, remembering how to be with each other again.

    This feels like stitching fresh air...