handstories

Coming around to

    A while ago, a dearest friend said that she wanted to make a quilt.

    Things have been very busy, so I sighed inside.

    This friend is very good at starting projects that I end up finishing for her... the knitted scarf for her dad, the baby blanket for a friend's daughter, a hooked pillow for an old boyfriend, the list goes on.

    "I don't have time to make a quilt right now," I said, discouraging her plans.

    But for her birthday a couple of months ago, I filled a box with squares of fabric, stitching template, soap sliver for marking, needle, thread, and a note agreeing to our next project.  

    A few weeks later, she and her man invited us to their sailboat christening.  I was happily surprised to see she'd been stitching pairs together and putting them to use already.

    (A silly aside, the bottle of bubbles we brought.  Relabeled with a photo of Moon.)

 

    Last weekend we spent a couple of lovely hours stitching together.  I shared stories of some of the cloths, we discussed favorites, reminiscing projects with students when we taught together, etc.  And the straight running stitched lines were so satisfying to make.  She commented on my two finished seams for each of hers.  I reminded her that I do practice with a needle now and then.

    I'm looking forward to the quilting to come, and very glad that I came around.

Arcs

    Recent stitching- a series in rainbows.  (Inspired by and created with the dyeing talents of Deb and Tina.)

 

 

    New ideas- abstracted rainbows, black thread.  These pieces felt like drawing more than usual.

    On Instagram, someone asked if I would ever be able to go back to my usual palette after working with in such vivid colors?  I really enjoyed playing with these brights, being braver with bold, and there was already a piece in dark blues going by the time I saw the comment.  I am going to do more with these ideas.  They feel like an expansion rather than a shift.

    I don't have a lot of words for here or in regular life.  Things are ok, swell mostly.  Life felt really good for weeks, and then there was a head-first dive into a downward spiral last week.  Sometimes I do myself in.  It's an old habit, but at least I recognize it now.  This is progress.  Onward...

Forty-plus

    “There is Light in the Waves”

    Our story started in July 1979.  Sixteen. A first conversation on someone's deck stairs.  Talking and talking... I'm sure I've told it over and over here... Writing in my diary that night, "I'm never getting married, but if I do, it will be to someone like K.F."  (I was dating someone else at the time!)

    Spring 1982.  Freshman year of college.  In front of the blue house I grew up in.  Please admire my Gunny Sax dress!  Purchased for high school graduation.  I begged Mom to split the $80 cost with me.  (Do not admire the gardenia corsage- it made my nose run all evening.)  I loved that dress and wore it over and over.  K's wearing his old high school singing tux.  Both are in the closet upstairs.

    Wedding 1983.  I'm sorry that Mom's beautiful smocking work on my dress doesn't show up very well.  She worked hard on the making of it.  It was worn a few times, too.  To an anniversary dinner at the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island, Michigan and one Halloween as Emily Dickinson.  It's upstairs too, in her old cedar chest.

   2023  So many stories... 

All is good.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    Been away... 

    Relaxing.  Hardly any stitching.

    Lots of wave watching.

    Came home to a beautiful package of cloths and threads from Deb and dove in.

    I'm not sure what's going on here on Typepad, not sure what I should do going forward, and I'm too relaxed to deal with it just yet.

Not drowning but waving

    "The Alchemy of Home"

    In the 90's, warm for here.  Not complaining, but it is the focus these days.  Opening or closing doors/windows/curtains while watching for the moments when the temperatures inside and outside switch, moving fans, searching for food in the fridge that won't require the stove.  It was 109° for Mom down in Oregon the other day.  So, really, not complaining, just managing.

    And I really should avoid people while managing.  For all of our sakes.

    Went to a water aerobics class yesterday.  The shallow end was quite full, so I donned a floatation belt and lurked just where the pool bottom drops off.  I don't know what my face looked like, but clearly not ok.  The teacher kept asking me if I was all right?  An elderly woman crossed a quarter of the pool to encourage me to come closer to where I could touch the floor of the pool.

    I tried to remember to keep a cheery smile on my face, so as not to worry others.  All the while, remembering the line from Stevie Smith's poem...

        "...I was much too far out all my life   

        And not waving but drowning."

 

    "Roasted carrots with oregano and chili powder made for $1.25!"

    I love that Blue sends photos of his new cooking and shopping skills.

 

    "Empanada making party with our Chilean friend last night!"

 

    Making smaller pieces again, thinking of picture books.  Remembering one of my children's lit professers, Dr. O., who said that in the very best books, each page, each illustration, should be able to stand alone as its own story.  That's what I'm aiming for.

    

 

Boys & Busy

    Scraps from the top layer of the worktable.

    Unexpectedly, Moon came home for the weekend.  Expecting him to spend his days with friends, I was happily surprised that he asked if we could do things together.  A while ago, I had told him about Folio, and he asked if we could go.  It's a lovely space down in the Pike Place Market.  An atheneum- a few quiet book and table filled rooms overlooking the bay.

    We packed up writing materials, stitching, and reading, and spent a peaceful piece of time by the window.  He shared some of his writing.  I may have pinched myself.

    Swam three times last week.  It's a mission.

    Meanwhile, Blue is in winter, enjoying all of the seasons of Chile!

    (Screenshots of the video he sent.)  He said it was great fun, but was sore for days.  Oh, to be young again!

    Today a picnic with Chicago friends who are passing through.

    Enjoying the calm stillness of this scrap gathering.

Blue, Books, Blanche, & Boats

    Indigo did happen, but I timed it wrong, forgot about a zoom appointment.  The result was meh at the hottest (whiniest) part of the day.  The main goal of blue wrapping cloths for the shop was accomplished and there were a few of these overdyes that made me happy.  (I wonder if I will ever stitch a piece that turns out straight with 45° corners?)

    There was another unexpected happy place... I've been thinking about zines, small books, as a way to bring some things together- stitching, painting, writing.  Also, a friend likes the boat paintings, so I've been thinking about how to make a little book of them for her.  On Thursday, a favorite artist/teacher of a friend posted a photo of blue papers with the words "the sea" announcing that he was teaching a zine class... sold!

    I meant to work on the boat idea, but Grandma showed up.

      Her name is whited out here for privacy, but it's a long list... Blanche Ione Sp., Sh., W., St., St., and Ab.  Born Sp., married Sh. (who died while she was pregnant with my mom), married W. (who only lasted for six months when Mom was in first grade. A mean man.), married, divorced, re-married, and re-divorced St., and then Ab was her on-again/off-again boyfriend in the later years.  (She said that she was done getting married.)

    I loved Grandma, but not her cooking.  I remember begging to go over AFTER dinner.  You never knew what would be on the plate.  Especially when it was a last minute invitation, which meant one of the old-timers at the bar had offered some of their catch of the day. 

    The frog legs were chewy.

    There's a growing list of ideas for more bite-sized booklets of Blanche.

   

    And the boat idea was begun...  It was a really good day.

She did, and she did.

    I went, got in, and alternating laps with and without a kickboard, went back and forth for twenty-five minutes.  At the end of the first length without a kickboard, so happy that, oh so slowly but without stopping, I made it to the end, I started to cry.  (I don't recommend doing this in swim goggles.)

    Back home, I started this piece about water, waves, sunsets, and memories of nighttime skinny dipping in the ocean long, long ago.  Jude's moon swam to the top of the basket at just the right time to float above Deb's sunset.

    Those front waves are from this Maiwa cloth from our last trip to B.C..  I just love the crackles of blue in the white.

    Pencils were sharpened.  It always seems like such a chore, but so satisfying once I sit down to do it.

    There was a phone call with Mom.  She had been to the beach with her sisters and had an "awesome" time.  She talked about waking up at four in the morning and watching "the brightest and fullest" moon set into the sea.  It was nice to hear her happy.

    And remembering our recent ocean trip...During our time together, we visited old haunts- the beach camp we kids went to for years, and a beach town where Mom had lived growing up.  The whole time, as we drove there, walked on its beach, and driving away- she recounted story after story of her time there.  Where she played with friends, the hideout in the rocks on the shore, where they caught the school bus, the boy that lived down the road...  On and on her happy clear memories poured out.

    Later, we were surprised when we asked her how many years she had lived there?

    "Only about nine months, when I was nine."

    How the ocean has held my family is really something.

    I went back to the pool this morning.  It was harder.

    I think I'll start this summer's indigo vat today.

    Have a good weekend. 💙

Will she or won't she?

    Yesterday things got done.  Packages were packaged and sent, including a six-month overdue one.  Emails and texts were sent, a letter was written, things were found, and I stopped at the Y to see what it would take to get this chubby older woman back into the pool.  The nicest young man at the counter said to call our insurance and they might pay for it!

    A phone call was made.  Twenty minutes later, the nicest woman across the state said that I wasn't old enough but encouraged me to still go back to the pool.

    Another phone call to the Y.  Another nice man, who was kind and helpful, sent the scholarship application.

    I spent the rest of the day getting carried away with this one.

    This morning forms were filled out.  Suit and cap have been found.  I'm going to eat my oatmeal now, and then we shall see...

Visitations

    More cyanotype playing.

    Some hauntings lately.  Mostly in a good.

    Merriam-Webster:  "Haunting:  visitation or inhabitation by a ghost.  Having qualities (such as sadness or beauty) that linger in the memory : not easily forgotten."

    Auditioning for the next moon cabin block.  This one with a special center dyed by Deb.

    "The Fullness of Light"