handstories

just when you think you've got nothing...

    A new place to wander.  Summer's indigo scraps and a ThreadCrumb moon (about 13 x 13").

    There's been a lot of forehead furrowing by K. and I about Moon's future plans.  K. keeps telling me to not say anything, that it will push his heels deeper in, but I can't seem to help myself.  So, the other night, jokingly, I suggested a different idea.  When he didn't react, I stepped out onto the ice, slowly and carefully saying some of the reasons why I want this to happen for him.  He seemed to be listening, so, bravely (or foolishly), I kept going... 

    "I just want the world for you..."

    Finally, I stopped, held my breath and hope that I hadn't cemented the deal for his original plans, and turned to busy myself with making dinner.

    And then...

    "Mom, I love you, too." 

    I managed to keep the happy cry in in until he left the room.

    And, he's looking into and considering our idea.

moon mulling

    Yesterday had some parenting moments...  

    Blue has been offered a job upon graduation this spring, and it's across the country.  Whether he'll accept it, or not, is still up in the air.  Either way, it was a realization that he may never live here again, which is good, how it should be, and... sigh.

    Last night, I yelled something at Moon out of exhaustion and exasperation.  It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't kind.  I said I was sorry, and again this morning, and I am.  He's seventeen and thinks he's ready to be on his own, which is normal, how it should be, and... sigh.

    In trying to think of something to write here, I drew a moon mind-map, writing down moony thoughts- a page of golden round words and moonlit memories of childhood- both mine and the boys'...

    Traveling to the moon and stars with my brother in our imaginations and rocket ships (lawn chairs), growing up with a woman named Mooney across the street, and being told (and believing) I could live on the moon when I grew up.

    How Blue chose Moon's middle name because there was often a full moon on the evenings of our midwife appointments. "Look at the moon, Mama!" 

    Standing outside, huge-as-moon pregnant, days overdue, trying to convince Moon to come out and see the moon for himself, and finally, on the porch a couple of days later, showing him the moon on the night he was born.

    Writing a little Zoom to the Moon book for four year old Blue to read.  Putting together that wonderful "Over the Moon" play with his second grade class, which included bits of the songs "Blue Moon", "Moon River" and more.  

    And that night sky song that I hummed to my baby boys, while slowly twirling around the front room, trying to dance them to sleep (click here for a lovely listen).

        Well, this turned into an unexpectedly long lingering...

    "A Golden Making" and a few more starlit story cloths will be in the shop tomorrow morning.

waves of things

    Family gathered at the Oregon coast this last week to put Dad's ashes into the ocean.  The four of us siblings, partners, and a few of our next generations.  

    Jude's comfort cloth came along in my pocket, it was held, clenched and washed in the sea.

    The day was stormy.  We laughed at the thought of what Dad would've said about us all standing there precariously on the wet rocks, wind whipping, rain soaking us through.  I'm sure it would've included a muttering of  "bunch of goddamn idiots".

    A bottle of my brother's homemade blackberry brandy was passed, and the rest poured in after the ashes.  They had planned to share it on their next fishing trip.

    There weren't a lot of words, all of us stood there with our thoughts, memories and emotions.

    The thirteen of us were in a big house with an amazing view.  It's been more than a decade since we siblings have stayed together.  Among the various breakfast makings, one sister made a pot of oatmeal each morning.  Seeing that the four of us all scooped up a bowl, was oddly comforting.  Moon commented that we all had the same sense of humor, and was a little taken aback (but enjoyed) the brashness of most of my family.

    A sock was started on the drive down, and finished during hours of watching the waves.

Change of pace

    It has been a good, and unusually social week with lovely interesting people, and this introvert is on overload.  

    Stitching was even a struggle.  I managed to patch my jeans, badly.   

    A green sock was finished.  

    Sunday was wedding dress shopping with best woman friend (which proves how much I love her, because I didn't even do this for my own wedding).  Her criteria is- Not white, not slutty, and a little funky (she's hoping to make certain folks roll their eyes).  

    On the third trip out, I laid my hands on the two latest possibilities, saying, "One of these will be IT," because definitely none of the others had been.  Hallelujah, she looks good in both of them.  She just needs to choose, and then we'll start shopping for mine...sigh.

    A purple sock was started, because the green was just not doing it for me.  

    On Tuesday, K. very nicely offered to drive the five hours, to and from, to meet up with the women I'm having the art show/sale with in December.  Stressed about catching the ferry, and all of the unknowns of hosting a show, and tired out from teenager issues, and, and,...  When he made a wrong turn, I shouted at him, in near tears, "I am coming unglued!"

    He offered to bus home from the ferry and let me drive myself.  I apologized, and regrouped.  Eventually.

    Yesterday there was a little watercoloring.  Making these jewels is meditative and calming.

    There was also a haircut, long overdue inches and inches were cut off, in hopes of feeling a bit more presentable in the world.  We'll see.    

    Today, I so enjoyed Jude's latest entry in her Patchwork in Perspective class.  Her "skatchwork" technique was just the ticket to get things percolating again.  A very good brain and needle stretch.

    I also tried to figure out the best public transportation route to get to the airport on time tomorrow with the same friend.  After much thinking and rethinking, and sending her the plan, it became clear we should just meet there.  As I like to have plenty of time to spare, to avoid the stress from fear of missing a flight, and she will most likely come dashing in during the boarding.

    "Where will you be?" she asked.

        "Sitting at the gate, reading a book."

    "And stressing that I'm going to be late."

        "Probably."

    And, because this week hasn't been busy and odd enough for my hermit lifestyle...  

    Tomorrow morning I'm taking a bus to the light rail, to the airport, and then we're flying to Las Vegas for 24 hours.  The star is packed and coming along.  Things are wild and weird over here.

the shape of a memory

    The back of "Playground" so far.

   Looking for a big circle to trace for the next layer of stitching, I noticed this plate in the back of the cupboard.  It dished up a whole bunch of stories. (Ha.)  

    It belonged to Great Great Aunt Kate, a woman that was long gone before I came into the picture.  The only story I ever heard about her was from Grandma Rosee.  Rosee had no middle name and her Aunt Kate had no children.  Kate offered young Rosee a dollar to take Katherine as middle name.  She took the dollar, and the name.

    Fast forward a bunch of decades to sometime in my twenties...

    Mom handed the plate to me.  "You should have this.  It belonged to Rosee's aunt."  Flipping it over, there was a scrap of paper taped to the back, a note written by my mom,  "Katherine O'Neill- a feminist."  A pretty piece of family history took on a new meaning, a symbol of one of the big tug and pulls of my mother's and my relationship.

    My first memory on the topic happened when I was around twelve.

    One day Mom excitedly showed me a newspaper article about her recent charity work.  Under her photo she was identified as "Mrs. Dad's first name (Mom's first name) Last name..."  (i.e. Mrs. John (Sue) Smith)

    "Why is Dad's name in here?" I asked.

    She explained that was the proper way to refer to a married woman.

    "But you did all of the work, and he didn't do anything!"  I went on and on, yelling about him being the one who should be the in parentheses, if at all.

    She took the article back, frustrated that I had burst her bubble.  It was the first of many exasperated-on-both sides discussions between us regarding women's roles, with neither of us budging or understanding the other.

    I'd like to think Aunt Kate would be glad I have her plate.

moon blue

    Almost five am.  Woke up over an hour ago.  Just before Blue's alarm went off.  An early flight for him.  K. is dropping him off at the airport right now.   Gone until Christmas.  Back to Ohio, for his senior year.  One more year and then who knows? 

        This piece was the last two days.  The moon was unexpected.

    There was actually the start of a star, first traced in soap, and then outline basted in orange thread.  After a bunch of pale blue thread beads were in, it just seemed wrong.  The moon called.

    But really, it's all about the blue, and Blue.

home star

    A star stitched on the road during our family vacation this last week.  K. and I had wished for a quiet island getaway, but the boys voted for city life, they wanted to "DO" things.  Fine.  

    I wrote up a list of possible activities in the places we would be, asked everyone to pick their top three choices (mine were the only votes for museums).  Selections were compiled and organized into days so that everyone's wishes could happen (including an art museum).  

    On the first day they both said they hoped that we wouldn't be doing things all of the time, that they would need time to relax...honestly.

    Blue heads back to school for his senior year in a couple of days.  This may have been our last trip with him living here.  Lots of feelings, in many directions.

    I'm so glad for cloth and thread and home.

parenting (& cloth)

    With the first layer there are hopes and dreams, imagining how it might be, and even the fun of the unknown.  You try to make things light and beautiful.

    And then new things are layered on, adding depth and mystery, and the unknown can take on an ominous feeling.  

    And all you can do is hope that in the end, all of the loving, caring and hard work... everything that went into it all...

    Will shine through.

what day is it???

    Last week was all about the abstract.

    Since then, there have been two birthdays (K. & Moon).  Moon's (17th!) included his girlfriend, a whirl (or four) on the Seattle Great Wheel, finding a geogache*** with the two of them, and apple fritters.  Which, if I remember right, is what Blue asked for on his 17th birthday, too. 

    There has also been time spent supporting a close friend recovering from surgery, a bee sting for Moon that required an ER trip, multiple taxiing trips for two boys who refuse to drive (Don't get me started), and at 4am tomorrow Blue is heading to New Jersey for a conference.  

    A couple of moons, a boat and a few trees in the last days were good for relaxing.  (It's funny, and swell, how happy playing with those tiny beads makes me.)  Tomorrow I think I'll sit still and stitch some squares.

    *** "Geocaching is an outdoor recreational activity, in which participants use their smart phone and other navigational techniques to hide and seek containers, called "geocaches" or "caches", at specific locations marked by coordinates all over the world."  

    (It's the new-fangled & technological way to go on a scavenger/treasure hunt.)

edges

    I have no memory of working on this piece.  I suppose I could go back through the blog and find the story of it, but it doesn't matter.  Jude said some things about this much more eloquently in her Patchwork in Perspective series recently (she's sharing such good rich thoughts).

    Today it's about stitches, and playing, and the joy in that.

    It was kind of a grumpy and rough week.  Mostly due to my mouth aching, not sleeping well because of that, and some growing pains in the family.

    On the worst day, driving down towards the lake, I said out loud to Whatever might be out there, "Please let everything be ok."  A moment later an eagle soared into the sky, and stayed in sight all the way down the hill.  "Thank you."

    Today everyone is fine, out in the world doing things they want to be doing, and I was able to eat a cookie.