handstories

Time

    This was begun last month with beautiful blues from Jude.  It was a good place to rest.

    On Tuesday eve, while scrolling through photos on my phone, a photo of my Iowa friend popped up.  It was her senior high school portrait, taken over sixty years ago.  "Why is this here?" I wondered, and then created a new album of "Favorites" to put it in so that I wouldn't lose track of it.  K. and I talked about her for a few minutes. 

    A friend and I had gone to visit her a couple of weeks ago.  Time has been taking her piece by piece over the last few years, but still her delight and joy in spending time with us shined through.  It was a lovely sad visit.  Yesterday I received word that she had died on Tuesday night.  I will miss her dearly.  I loved it when she called me "Honeybun".  The "Iowa" category will tell you more about her, but this post sums our friendship up best.

    Twinkle has taken a turn, new meds, more "waiting and seeing" for a couple of weeks.

    More nightmares... at first I thought that they were frogs, but no.  The spiders were beautiful and terrifying.

    I keep saying (and feeling) that things are really fine, and they are.  I'm just out of words right now. Life slips by sometimes.

    "Everything Became Home"

(Golden pink moon cloth dyed by Tina.)

Slowly

    Covid or not, Deb's indigo plants were ready to be harvested.  The alchemy of squishing leaves, salt and cloth into blue was pure magic.

    I am going so slowly these days.  Is malaise the right word?  Melancholy?  A lack of oomph, or even desire, to move and or do anything.  There are windows of energy spurts and I try to take advantage of them.  The bathroom did get cleaned.  Some stitching is happening.

    There is good news about K's surgery.  There was a cancellation, and he was at the top of the waitlist, so now it will happen at the end of August instead of November.  Counting the days until he will be out of pain.

    Houses, jars and bottles are showing up.  Even when the initial intent was something else.

    Two friends and I went on a day trip yesterday to visit our friend and former boss (my Iowa friend).  She is 86 now and starting to slip away in many ways.  She was younger than me when we met, it seems a lifetime ago.  While talking with her lovely caregiver, I realized that she only knows who she is now, not the strong, opinionated, sharp as a box of tacks, force of a woman that we have known over the decades.  She's still full of light and spirit.  Seeing her is wonderful and sad.

    There are so many things that I wish I could hold on to.

neighbor days

    The neighborhood has had plenty of stories this week.  

    We attended the memorial service for Mr. C, he was 96.  Mrs. C. is 96 too, in great shape, still gardening and a pillar of her church community.  She looked beautiful in her black sequined hat at the service.  (She has an amazing collection of "Going to Church" hats.)

    They built their house in 1956, and have always kept it up impeccably.  We've lived next door to them for the last 27 years.  He mowed the grass and cleaned the roof himself until the last couple of years.  I would watch him up on that ladder with fear and awe.  A quiet man, always cordial, knocking on the door now and then in summer to hand us zucchini and tomatoes from his garden.  He'll be missed.

    Our youngest neighbor across the street (9?) is a musician, and has had a guitar or drumsticks in his hands as long as I can remember (I can hear him playing right now).  His School of Rock concert was at the Hard Rock Cafe downtown yesterday.  They passed out much needed earplugs on the way in.  Someday we'll be able to say we knew him when.

    And then there was the trip to visit with old neighbors...  K. and I drove up for a day to have lunch with my Iowa friend, who used to live a few blocks away, but has retired up on the peninsula.  

    We also saw our old next-door neighbors (on the other side), who moved there a couple of years ago, too.  We miss them so much.  Just swell people, both artists, with two sweet boys.  He's a painter, and a house builder by day.  Tininha, is now weaving beautiful passionate textural creations. 

    While there, we met their lovely friend, Tracy, also an artist, who weaves, stitches, works on paper...the list goes on.  It was so nice to sit and share about making.  The big news is that we've started plans to have a show together later this year.  Excitement and nerves abound, but the two of them are full of grace and know-how, so it should be swell.

    There are so many un-knowns right now.  Focus and stitching are all over the place these days.  Nothing's quite done, waiting for more story to come...  And I keep thinking of something Jude said to me years ago, "...and it all formed as it might."

pillow & people

    Sunday was a day away with two of my best friends to visit a third, who has moved a ferry ride and drive away.  I was finally able to give her the Iowa pillow.  It seemed at home in her new place, under watchful eyes.  (Click on the Iowa category below if you'd like some of the backstory.)

    I'm sorry I didn't get better photos- there was hurrying and gray rainy skies to contend with.

    It was a nice day full of friendship, and a realization that if not for the friend we went to visit, chances are, we three would never have met, as she was the founder/director of the school we all used to work at, who hired each of us many years ago.  She started so much more than a school.

a quiet weekend

    Just stitching in the stillness, not doing anything I should be doing.

    Working on the long overdue Iowa project.  The two sides for making a pillow are finished.  Just about done puzzling the left over muslin pieces together to cover the backs, using Jude's invisible basting to attach them, for strength.  Having started this a while ago, I have no idea why I didn't just use one piece of muslin that was big enough to cover the whole thing?  But what would be the fun in that?

    Maybe if I added "stitching" to the docket, it would keep the guilt of ignoring the rest of the list at bay?

a box of memories

    My Iowan friend handed me a shoebox of treasures the other day.  It was all of her sewing things, and then some.  Buttons and beads, old wooden spooled threads, pretty stones, and other bits and bobs.  I particularly loved her labeled envelopes of special buttons.

    It was a lovely afternoon with her.  We could talk for hours, enjoying each other's stories and discoveries.  Being eighty, she has such a sense of history and the wisdom to go along with it.  I enjoy stories of her childhood, of visiting the farm.  "That's what we called it, not Grandpa and Grandma's, but The Farm . . . My sisters and I would sit around him, and he would say, "I've got the god-damnedest best granddaughters in the world!""  She told this story with the widest soft smile.  She stills glows with the memory of being loved like that.

later . . .

    It was supposed to be the shape of the state of Iowa.  One of those state puzzle pieces was in mind, an effort to put some of my friend's lifetime of teaching into the cloth, but it never quite worked.  I knew it, ignored it, waited for it to work itself out. Turns out it needed help.

    Sometimes a little undoing, sunshine, and time can make a big difference.

iowa memories

    Well, it has been dark and gray, hard to take photos, and the two sides of "Iowa" may be as done as they're going to get.  Or maybe I just need to take a break from it, and give a late birthday gift.  Cursed deadlines.

    I can tell you the What and the Why of each little area on it, but when I look at the whole of the front, it seems a jumbled up disconnected collection of thoughts.

    I suppose memories are like that sometimes.

the symmetry of time

    Working on the last strip for "Iowa".  

    It was over twenty-five years ago when Janie introduced me to the friend that "Iowa" is for.  I was in my late twenties, my friend was around fifty.  She was the director/founder of the school that Janie worked at, and where I would work for the next 23 years.  I found her to be smart, intimidating, and too authoritative, but I liked her.  She thought I was smart, down to earth, and had problems with authority, but she liked me.  We're both Irish, we both liked that.  Over the years we had our ups and downs, me saying no to her, her saying I was stirring things up and maybe I should go, but there was always mutual respect.  After Janie died, we found a new piece in our relationship, friendship.  It has grown over the many seasons, especially after she stepped down from heading the school.

    Yesterday we talked about old times, as we often do.  She reminisced about my being down to earth, smart, and how great it was when I would stand up to authority.  I shared my admiration for her brilliance, and appreciation for how she always took charge of situations and remained in control of things.

    It's swell how time balances things out.

full spectrum weekend.

    These old prints are so dang cheerful.  Even my usual blue-gray self is enjoying this trip along a vintage rainbow.

    This last weekend the guys were gone for 27 hours!  There was lots of time for stitching, reading, evening with a friend, a walk in the bright cold, spotting an eagle perched atop a tree, and even a little cleaning (when you can see the dust on the mantel from across the room, it's time).  

    There was an unusual amount of slowing and noticing of the pretty prints, and even the pins in sunshine.