handstories

Time Traveling

    We've been gone...again.  A road trip down memory lane visiting many of the significant spots from the early years, mostly on the Oregon Coast, in honor of our anniversary.

    The first stop was for the first kiss (April 1980).  Where K. first told me he was falling...

    "Maybe it's because we're on uneven ground?" I said, because I was hoping for that kiss, but struggling to keep my balance on the rocky riverside.

    "I meant in love."  He said.  He kissed me anyway.

    (Note that we did not stop under the old bridge, where I first told K. that I loved him (New Year's Eve 1979).

    "That's great!" he said.  "I'm in love, too!  With L."  I kept loving him anyway.)

    Our first apartment in Corvallis, OR (1983-84).  We had the upper right half.  1920's, two bedrooms, furnished, built in booth table, a sunroom, three-foot deep bookshelves on either side of the fireplace, more cupboards and closets than we could fill... for $210 a month (we talked them down from $225).

    We stopped in Ashland, OR for a couple of nights and plays.  I had spent time there in high school for Thespian conferences, and a couple of visits with a good friend who lived there in the early 80's.  Both shows that we saw were in the outdoor Elizabethan theater.  Perfect weather, with the sky and stage filled with stars, pearls, diamonds, and glitter (it's all about the costumes and scenery for me!).

    The Redwoods.  (Not an Us memory, but we were so close.)

    Bigger than imaginable.

    I wish I could give you a real sense of how far and grandly they reach into the sky.

    The tidepools on Agate Beach in Newport, OR.  A forty-five-minute drive from Corvallis (in 1983-84).  We made the trek often.  Once, a girlfriend and I went late at night and skinny dipped here.  (This is also where my ashes will go.)

    The buildings down there, between the ocean and the lake, are the camp where my siblings and I went for many years.  We loved it there.  I learned to swim in that lake, and, at twelve, was baptized in that bit of the ocean.  Mom thought I should wait and do back home at the church we kids went to (just the kids, our parents had zero interest).  I cried and begged, it had to be in the ocean (where I believed God lived).  She gave in.

    Oceanside, OR.  Where we spent most of our honeymoon (1983).  

    The beach is scattered with jasper and agates.

    We stayed in this family friend's cabin.  It was a lovely relaxing week.  Wandering the beach and K. cooking while I read Ramona the Pest and Winnie the Pooh aloud to him.  When both books were finished, I resorted to the Harlequin romance that I found in the cabin.  I don't remember the title, but the main characters were Brock and Suzanne.  We still laugh at the memory of how "Brock bruised her with his kisses..."

    Rockaway, OR where we were outdoor school counselors together (October 1979).

    The camp beach, where we first held hands (in spite of my being in a relationship with J.)

    And, finally, Haystack Rock on Cannon Beach.  Childhood vacations, one night of our honeymoon, and where we would take our dear nephew for getaways (1988-1995-ish).

    It was a wonderful week with so many memories.  So grateful for all of it.

    There was only a little bit of stitching (the winding coastline roads require looking up!).  It was interesting to notice that what I did stitch had to do with home. 

    It was so good to go and to come home, and to realize how much we are home for each other.

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... 

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.

Weekend

    There is too much that I want to hold onto here, for remembering.  To put it all in one post is just too much.  So, I do nothing.  Time slips, but still, I want to try.  I don't know why.  Anyhow, I'm going to try.  Smaller bites. 

    Starting at the beginning of this week, but in reverse...

    The cloth beginning above was stitched on Sunday, on the way home from a fun weekend in Bellingham.  Stuck in traffic (thank you, Taylor Swift), I pulled out the handful of scraps that had been grabbed off the table on the way out of the house Saturday morning and puzzled them together.  (Not too shabby for not wearing reading glasses, because it was too bright not to wear sunglasses.)  Having to find a way to make random fabrics work together is a fun exercise now and then.  Haven't touched it since.

    Before the freeway crawl, there was a wonderful relaxing morning on Deb's porch (after petting two of the friendliest cats in the world).  There was talking and talking, looking at all of her explorations with pigments, and giving her eggshells a crush.  That porch is the best science lab that I've ever been to!

    The day before was spent with Moon and his girlfriend (I.), in honor of his twenty-first birthday!  (They are still in Bellingham, taking summer classes, and Moon is working on an internship researching space ethics.)  He had asked us to come a while ago, to join him in a round of bar hopping.  I couldn't believe he wanted to spend this particular birthday with his parents.  "That's wonderful and weird!"  I told him.

    "I know!" he said.

    We lunched, book shopped, walked along the waterfront, took a nap, strolled through campus, dined, and then decided to miniature golf at the college hangout across the street from his apartment.  The plan was to golf before saying goodbye to I. (who won't be legal for a few months).

    After the game (I got the only hole-in-one and won!), he decided to have his first drink there, so I. could be there.  He ordered a sampler flight of local beers and experienced his first carding.  We talked, took photos, and Moon went over to the game shelf and found Sorry, a family favorite.  We all sipped, played (he won), and had a swell time.  At which point he announced that it had been a good birthday, he was tired, and he was calling it a day.

    Such a reasonable boy man!

    Back to the present...  Propped up on the watering can, to support the heavy drooping branch, with the blue potted plant placed to protect it from folks walking by and badly flung newspapers... I had just about given up hope, but today...

    Hooray!

Small things can shift things

    There are so many things with needles in them.  It's dangerous to reach around on my table.

    There are lots of ways to say "I'm working" without really getting anywhere.  This was a half-start of sorting out the thread nest.  I showed a photo of the basket of tangles and knots to a friend.  "How did that happen?!" she asked.  After explaining how I work, and that there are three other baskets of chaos, she just stared wide-eyed at me.  "Do you need more corks?" she asked. 

    "Fortunately or unfortunately, no," I replied.

    I've been experimenting with cyanotypes the last two days.  Playing really is good for the spirit.

    This boot (can you see that it's a boot?), with its cactus began in the late 70's.  My uncle came home after four years of being stationed in Germany with the Army.  Grandma took his boot and planted the cactus in it.  Proclaiming that it would keep him from ever being able to leave again, she put it next to her trailer steps.  I always enjoyed seeing it when visiting her, so when she died, I took it.

    It has been at the foot of our front steps growing and multiplying for the last thirty-plus years.  The toe of the boot is pretty much gone, it's rooted through its rotting sole into the grass, and a few sprouts have escaped the boot all together.  It just goes along with no interference from me.

    But THEN, two weeks ago, overnight... that growth/branch/arm on the upper left.  Nothing like this has ever happened in all of its forty-something years.

    Each day it reaches a little further, stretching thinner.  

    SOMETHING is going to happen.

    Small things can make for such a difference in the days.

The Coast

    Stitched last week on the Oregon Coast with my mom and sister (who I usually join on the east coast).

    We had perfect weather, wonderful views, lots of walks, memories, laughs, and food.

    The house was on the beach, a dream place for all three of us.

    It was the first time in decades that it was just the three of us for any length of time.  Fascinating to observe and be a part of new dynamics.

    It seems that the neighborhood heard that I was coming.

    There was a night that boats scattered near the shore (and an egret, I think).  We made up all kinds of stories of what they might be up to before deciding they were fishing boats.  (The stories were much more interesting.)

    One day we drove up to the Tillamook Cheese Factory.  Growing up, the family would stop there now and then.  We enjoyed watching the cheese makers pulling giant wires through the cheese, seeing the curds and whey, all through a large window over their work area.  Afterwards, there would be sample cheese squares on toothpicks.

    Now it is a huge building with large windows, displays, etc. looking down through rows of windows onto modern machines that hide much of the process.  There were sealed samples to take, a LARGE eating area featuring cheese sandwiches and many kinds of ice cream, with a huge gift shop nearby, and a cheese truck to pose for a photo op in.  A kind of a cheese Disneyland.  It was interesting and a fun stop, but the quaintness and charm were missing.

    I did love seeing that one of their symbols is the silhouette of the Morning Star.

    "1854-  Tillamook's farmers had butter and milk to sell- but hauling it over rough mountain roads took so long, that it would spoil.  The fastest route to Portland is by water, so they built Oregon's first official ship- the Morning Star- to carry their dairy goods to market."

    Home now to a short heat wave, but there's hopefully a storm brewing tonight.

    But I keep thinking of the ocean.

    And thinking about all of the different kinds of light.

Blue

    (Well, that was an unexpected break from the internet.  More about that another day.)

    Today has been spent with the piece above.  It's about Blue, who was home for much of the last week.  All of the cloths in this piece are also in blankets that I've made for him over the years, starting with the rose print flannel that his first baby blanket was made from, his "Rosie."

    And looking at this cloth made ten years ago... It's full of mama feelings for him, too.  When I was wanting to hold him wrapped in flannel within the safe bubble of home.  I wrote about it here.

    There was a thought of putting a home on the hill in the new cloth, too, but I realized that would be about me.  His world is much more than that.

    This morning he landed in Santiago, Chile where he and a friend are hoping to live for the next year.  The plan is to be English tutors and whatever other jobs they can find to make ends meet.

    He sent the view from his apartment a bit ago.

    I am holding all of the feelings... so happy and excited for him, proud of his risk taking, and a little sad to know he's so far away.  I wish a big blue wide world for him, knowing that we are still under the same moon together.

Ok for now

    Some things have been started...

...and put aside.  No painting.  No writing.

    Tired on the inside, not sleeping well, nightmares, so tired on the outside too.  Too much thinking, not enough doing.

    Taxes were looming.  Every year feels like reinventing the wheel.  Last time I took notes, but the form has changed, and I was lost as usual.  The helpline person held my virtual hand and did an ok job of not sounding exasperated with me.  Perhaps because she could hear my anxiety and tears brinking.  At least that's done and dusted.  I did take screen shots and notes to refer to next time.  Fingers crossed that nothing changes. 

    "Where the Light Might Go"

    Some things got finished. 

    Including a pair of socks for my sister-in-law.  She's a narrow size six, they go fast.  A purple pair are on the needles now.

    They were delivered during a weekend in Oregon visiting family.  One afternoon, Mom and I went for a drive around the area.  My aunt wasn't home, but a bit of her passion was visible in the front window.  I love how she loves him...

    We also went looking for the house we lived in when I was three to five years old.  I've tried finding it on my own over the years but couldn't.  When we lived there, it was countryside- gravel road, ditches, woods, blackberry bushes, and only a few homes.  Now the fields are filled with houses, shops, office buildings. Nothing looks familiar. 

    It was getting late, almost dusk, and then the road began the curving up around the hill.  There was a body memory of riding in the car on the way home... There was my best friend's house, and her big yard where we ran after her Dachshund.  Around the corner, some of the woods were still standing, and after one more turn, there was the house and its memories.

    The rock wall that Dad built was still there. My brother and I had watched him lift and maneuver the big stones, and "helped" him mix the cement in the wheelbarrow.  I remember thinking how strong he was.   Mom's garden was gone.  Flashbacks of mud pies, learning to ride a bike, "Gumby" on Saturday mornings, Midnight the cat, Lincoln Logs and Matchbox cars, and eating the cake that I had won playing musical chairs at the kindergarten carnival.

    I got out of the car to get a better look.  The rain and night beginning to fall.  Standing there, getting wet, staring at that house, recalling other memories, that won't be erased by time or therapy, it was the topper to a week that had felt like a synchronicity of gloom. 

    Yesterday I wallowed in it all.  Today I thought, "That's enough for now," and stitched a red tree named "Carmine," shaking loose the downheartedness for now.  An attempt at "rising above" as a friend suggested.

    Time to start swimming again.

Never a Dull Moment

    Deb's cloth made for an earthy hill on blackberry-ish purples by Tina, with a small scrap of the starry cloth K. gifted me for Christmas twenty-five years ago in anticipation of baby Blue.

    There was a bit more boat mending in the wind and the cold under a daylight moon.

    In an effort to maybe, just maybe, get this quilt done in time, I keep it on my lap while stitching for the shop.  Whenever there is a bit of thread left in the needle, it goes into the quilt.  Sometimes it's only a few stitches, but that keeps things interesting.

    Speaking of interesting... There was an evening at my friend's condo this weekend.  They live near a hospital and a couple of nursing homes, so sirens are common.  But suddenly there was siren after siren...

    We looked out the window to see that the street was full the length of two blocks and around the corner of her building.

    Across the street an old, abandoned house.

    We spent the next hours watching out their windows.  The hours were also spent with fond and fearful memories of my dad's decades as a fire fighter. 

    The house is still standing, without some of the roof and floors.

    "It's never a dull moment around here!" I commented.  We laughed at the crazy their world seems to be full of these days.  Over there again last night, we talked about how pretty the fire actually was, especially at one point when snow was falling.  We thought it could be their Christmas card... "Our world is on fire, and still beautiful... Merry Christmas!"  We laughed some more.  Laughter is such good medicine.

    And so is stitching! (More of Deb and Tina's dyeworks.)