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... 

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.

Ghosts & Going

    The story of this one changed every time I picked it up.

 

 

    Moon was home for a few days.  Doing great.  We talked for hours.  We've come so far and are so the same.  Gratefully, he doesn't mind anymore. 

    There was the moment when I started to tell him something about my childhood, and he stopped me, "Are you sure you want to tell me?"  Because somewhere inside of him, he knows.

    "I'm not going to tell you about that yet."  Because we both know that I know he knows.

    And remembering a conversation with a family member decades ago... Him saying, "I don't know why you can't..."

    "Do you want to know?  Because I will tell you."

    "No.  I don't need to know."  Because he knew.

 

    Working on the woven quilt again.  Not worrying about anything with this- crooked wavering stitched lines, variations in thickness, rough edges, nothing.  Letting it all go.  Just going.  I wish I could do that with everything.

    Thank goodness for the moon to rest in.

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.)

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.

Fortuitous

    K. asked if I get tired of making these little trees.  Nope.  Each one is a surprise with its own tiny story, and I love choosing names for them.  When one is finished, I hold it and wait for a word to come to mind- night, wind, song, light, whisper, etc., and then look up names with that meaning to choose from.  So many wonderful names out there...

    Also, each one reminds me of my wonderful middle school art teacher, Mrs. Trytko, who taught us to draw trees this way.  Tall, wearing caftans and huge framed glasses, she swirled through the room giving praise and constructive critiques.  She offered complicated lessons and projects, treating us with generosity and respect, making us feel like real Artists.  How lucky we were.

    Speaking of lucky... Juliann's name was drawn for the copy of Stitch*illo!  Thanks everyone for sharing your lovely stitching words and thoughts.💙 (Juliann, I've sent you an email.)

Lights in the Dark

    "There Was Humming"

    This one was all about playing... Enjoying circles and the tiniest stitches.  Looking for balance and rainbows.

 

    "The Stars Hold Our Stories"

    This was finished on the way home from spending time with family in Oregon.  It was a different group than usual.  Noticing how the mix in personalities brought new dynamics.  How the same old stories took on new perspectives.  More layers.  

    Mom, who has had such a long, lonely year since her husband died last January had moments of silliness.  Which was wonderful to watch.  And we all enjoyed listening to her laugh as she told the story of how she and Dad met and got together.  How Grandma thought he was a nice guy because he was happy to eat leftovers.  I love how in spite of the turns their marriage took, she has fond happy memories of her time with him.  

    The change in light seems to be reflected in my color choices- things have taken a turn for the dark.  But I'm still trying to stitch light and hope into it.  These story cloths will be in the shop at noon today (Pacific Time).

    Just in case you missed my last post, there is one more day to leave a comment for a chance to win!

Joy

    We strolled through the local botanical gardens for our anniversary afternoon. 

   A place we've gone often.  A place with memories of good and rocky times, alone and with the boys.  K likes the dahlias, for me it's the water features and wispy meadow like spots.  An old timer made a cheesy jokey compliment to me.  Something my dad would have done.  It made me roll my eyes and smile.

    "Asra" meaning "nighttime journey".

    Speaking of journeys... I'm off for the next bunch of days to attend/assist another workshop with Christine Mauersberger.  I'm looking forward to days of making and soaking in inspiration, to sitting still, spending time thinking and wondering, gathering some thoughts and sense of where I am and might want to go.  It's a tall order for a few days, but a soul can dream.

Seeing the waves...

    More seas...  I'm resting in them, I think.  A way of keeping going, no matter the to-do list, anxieties.  Things are fine, just still more of a tossed salad rather than a smooth soup.  K started back half-time today, that will help both of us.  Stir crazy does not look good on him.  Nor does my constant, "Are you leaving the house sometime soon?"  We both need routine.

    It's our 39th anniversary today.  We're both glad about that.

    There were four years of off and on before we got married.  There was a time during my senior year of high school when he would come home from college every other weekend.  During which he would break up or get back together with me, depending on what he had done the last time.  Over and over.  Two girlfriends wrote to him, asking him to end it for good, because being around me during the aftermath of these visits was making them crazy.

    We all made it through that year, and then I went to Alaska for the summer, and new drama began...  but that's another story.

    Sorry about all of the loose threads on this photo.  Didn't have my glasses on.