handstories

Glittering lights & rats

    There was a wild windstorm night before last.  Rain and twigs pelting the windows.  Just outside the window I sleep under, the tall cedar's  branches whipped around creating a frantic loud dance of shadows across the walls.  Falling asleep took a while, so more of the fairy tale was read...including the part where she was locked in a closet with a rat trying to nest in her hair.

    There was a dream of having to contain two live rats in a skillet, being ordered to cook them for dinner.  I couldn't decide which was worse, having to cook them, or knowing I would have to eat them.

    A friend and I went for a walk downtown, the first time I've spent time since March.  This is Pike Place Market, usually it's shoulder to shoulder crowded.  Now it's mostly empty stalls and shops, with only a few wanderers.

    The twinkle lights all over helped to cheer things.

    Although, not long after this photo, a rat scampered by.

    There was also a stop at the Pine Box Bar, a converted funeral home.

    Seating is outside in the driveway where the hearses used to roll through (including one that held Bruce Lee).  The tables are made from dismantled display coffins.  The lights were lovely, but I'm not sure I'll be going back, just a smidge too creepy for me.

 

Moon medicine

    Filling out a partial ThreadCrumbs moon.  A moon mend.  Once again turning to the gift of threads from Tina for a just right aqua blue.

    There was a dream of being gifted crystals, and another of only having moments to decide what was needed as I left my house forever.

    The ideas of moon- roundness, filling, holding close, silvery, buttery, cool and glowing... fills, mends.

    The tear in K's coat was stitched up and laundry is going.  Small things, as Deb and Liz say.  Manageable.  This moon didn't get very far.  I was distracted by a book that's been read before.  She saves herself, and the others.  A fairy tale.  Another kind of mending for me.

Crowns & crystals 💎

 

    Sometimes crystals are added after the painting the blind drawings.  They relax me in a different way than painting.  There's a sense of discovery, as the blurs of paint take shape.  Finding buried treasure.

    There have been lots of fairy tale thoughts and wondering what it is that draws me to them?

    So many blurry ideas, but focus and words are few right now.

Imagining light

    It's great to have the sky back, the birds too.  I slept with the window wide open under a few quilts- the ones named Story, Serenity and Uncertainty.  It was a great sleep, but then anxiety set in... about the world, Moon having his senior year up in his bedroom, financial worries, my computer, this blog.

    (If you've seen Jude's post, I'm in the same sort of boat, although not quite as far out to sea...yet.  (And, yes, I do believe she's being blacklisted, because her comment was found in my spam.)  I post photos on the phone, text is added on K's computer- which is very touchy, so photos often get accidently deleted, so back to the phone...repeat.  I can reply to comments only on his computer, only on a certain browser.  Also, I can't leave comments on other Typepad blogs, unless I'm on that certain browser.  Since it's hit or usually miss whether my comments make it through to Blogger or Blogspot blogs, I may just be fading/sinking away from everywhere.)

    Given all of the above, it's weird that I've suddenly found the urge to blog often.  Maybe it's the fear that it could all be gone any moment.  A kind of dog-paddling.

    This was a hard week, so much is unknown and being lost, but when someone asks how things are, my usual answer is, "OK enough."  Which is true.  We are healthy, have a home, have each other, have enough. 

    It was the answer I gave dearest friend when we met for a walk today, I asked her the same question back, knowing the answer, knowing that things are incredibly hard for her right now, that she's a special ed teacher being asked to do the impossible as she tries to plan for and teach virtually. 

    She replied, "Fine."

    I stopped in my tracks and whipped my head sideways, "What?!"  Thinking I had misheard her, "How ARE you?"

    "I'm fine."  We took two more steps when she stopped and burst into tears, "I'm NOT fine!"

    We stood on the sidewalk hugging, "Of course you're not.  How could you be?!  How could anyone be?"        After we walked, I came home and straightened up my table.  This surfaced.  I can't remember what it was for?  Some kind of reference for myself, I think, a way of making something make sense.

    And then I stitched.  I wanted to make a mermaid, but couldn't think of a way within my skill or patience level.  So I imagined them- imagined hoping and knowing that they were there just below the surface, slapping their tails, scattering droplets of sea and magic.