handstories

Choices

"Rooted in Magic"

    I mean to be here more, really, I do.  The days are spent making, by evening my eyes are too tired for screens, and/or K. is using the computer.  I love these days of stitching.  So lucky to be able to do work that I love.

    The morning paintings are happening again.  I think that I lost my way with routines in the last weeks.  They help.

    The singing group has started meeting in person again, masked, spread out some.  One of our songs is "Storm Comin'," a favorite of mine.

    

"Glittering"

    When I was new to the group (15 years ago?), at some point the woman next to me turned to me and said, "You're not singing the right notes."

    I shrugged my shoulders and said, "It's not a choice."

    At our first gathering a couple of weeks ago, I noticed that she was sitting in front of me.  At the next sessions, I noticed that she moved up a few rows.  Ha!

    I love it when Deb Lacativa's cloths have seams to pick apart.  They feel like bonus surprises- secret extra places of color.  This was probably a sheet.  I put stitches into the holes left behind as a way of holding the story of before.

"Showered in Light"

    Tina dyes up beautiful soft rainbows of cloth.  They are often just the right setting for a story.

    Spring has sprung.

    And THIS took my breath away (be sure to click on the right arrow to get to the video and make sure that you have the sound on (bottom right corner).  Can you imagine being in the presence of such an ocean of amazing?!?

A Rainbow Forest

    Where does the time go?  To plumbing (fingers crossed that it's finally over and the jack hammer NEVER returns), birthday, fetching Moon from college to home for his spring break, trip to Oregon to visit family, hayfever meds, ...

    A blue moon birthday cloth with a Threadcrumb moon, bits of Deb G.'s indigo silk and Deb L.'s dyeing in the moon, a patch of cloth leftover from Blue's baby quilt, and the top right piece is cyanotype fabric that had seed beads scattered on it while being exposed.

    A birthday selfie à la Jude.  Unlike Jude, I stepped into the shadows of the bathroom (where the only mirrors are.  Somebody really should wash that mirror, and repaint everything, especially the poor old door).

    There's been some stitching on that quilt that was started last fall.  It was nice to spend some hours with it, long lines of not so small stitches.  It's almost time to extend it with more cloth weaving.  I am going about this quite cattywampusly, making it up as I go, and not caring one whit.

    I'm not sure if it was the birthday distractions, the traveling, or the start of hay fever season, but when all of the finished pieces for Thursday's shop update were gathered, I was surprised to see a small forest of tokens.  I don't remember making this many!  I do remember thinking how great they are for experimenting with color combinations and a way to try new (uncomfortable) colors (I'm talking to you, Yellow).  Tina and Deb's rainbow cloths and threads make it easy to step out of the comfort zone.

    More color play while listening to this free workshop.  There is much to love about color wheels.

"Holding Home"

    The houses are still coming...

"Together They Glowed"

    There's something that I'm trying to get at...  Trusting that I'll know when I get there.

Songs from Home

    There's something about home that I'm still working on...

    Maybe it's an effort to count my blessings. 

    It may have started with the washer workouts and trying to see the bright side of things.  (The plumbers will come again on Friday, with their jackhammer, mud, etc.  I've just thrown my hands up in the air about all of it- the mess, the money, the men trudging through.)  We have a house.  We are ok.

    There were hyacinth bulbs in jars at the grocery store for only a few dollars.  Still, it seemed like a splurge... not needed, just wanted.

    I'm enjoying it so much!

    The scent is heady, a constant gift, and a trace of memory too, but I can't quite place it.

    Very slowly, only a few pages a day, I'm reading Katherine May's The Electricity of Every Living Thing.  So far, I love it and it's hard, comforting and too close to home.  Last week, there were these sentences:  

    "... Everybody has a song like this.  A song that is a map, a compass: a song that sets you straight again.  Learn it, and it will take you home."

    This feels like what I'm trying to get to, what much of my stitching, stories, inner work are about.  The words, or even whole coherent thoughts about it aren't formed yet, but I'm a few steps closer.

    In the meantime, this may have gone a bit far, but it felt like a party!

"The Shindig of Home"

Conjuring

    There was an idea for a piece, another one with stones, it seemed like a good one... Not.  I stitched and restitched, ripped out, tried again, and was left with three little stones in the middle that looked more like Easter eggs.  I threw in into the hills of cloth on my table (where it has since disappeared).  And then this piece of Deb's stormy cloth called out, wanting to share a sky with one of Jude's moons...

    It was a moody weekend.  Plenty of feeling sorry for myself, but also knowing that I was fine.  We've got a system for doing the laundry now.  At twenty-four minutes into a load- be there with three buckets for about 20 minutes.  Do not run the first bucket out the door.  Set it on the floor until the third bucket has begun, and then run...  I tell myself how lucky I am to not have to use a washboard or wringer.

    This cloth is about creating connections and spells for yourself.  

    Finding ways to intersect with what's happening and reach for what might.

  Everything leaning on and into each other.  I loved making this piece.

"We Conjure What We Can"

    This piece and others will be in the shop this Friday (March 4th, noon Seattle time). Fifty percent of the sales will be donated to the International Rescue Committee.

    Sky magic last night.

    And more stars today...

Notes From the Basement

    I want to revisit some ideas from the past.  See what they might hold now. Will they mean the same things? Will they hold more? Will I even remember why I went there in the first place?  This one started with scraps on the table from recent pieces, including cloths dyed by Deb and Tina.

    (The water cloth is antique Japanese silk from Richard that I dyed in indigo years ago.)

    This is being written in The Basement.  (More about why in a moment.) The Basement is cellar-like. Uneven cement floor, ceiling that can be touched flat-footed with pipes and beams exposed, and more cobwebs than a haunted house. Not to mention all the THINGS & STUFF. 
   All to say, it’s not a comfortable relaxing place to be.  And it's cold down here.

    Some things were thrown yesterday- me, some words, a tantrum, and a spatula.

    Fortunately, K laughed through it all, took over the dinner cooking, and brought wine up from The Basement (one of its good qualities).

    There had been disappointments, frustrations and a triangle tangle of a conversation that I felt I had to scream to extricate myself from.  None of it was a big deal, I was just having A Day.

    Well, none of it was a big deal except for The Basement.  The plumbing issues are not over. It’s not the plumbers' fault. K and I took a gamble and lost.

    The Basement, where I am vigilantly babysitting the washing machine, waiting for the moments that it drains into the utility sink.  Each time switching out the buckets that I've placed under the hose, alternating them as they fill, and running them out the back door to pour into the woods.  Repeating this activity over and over so that the water doesn’t overflow out of the new drain in the floor into a 6-foot-wide puddle across the new cement.  The drain and cement that will need to be jackhammered out again to fix the problem.

"A Place of Through"

    Today I am resigned and resolved about it all, while running buckets to and fro.

    Earlier, I thoroughly enjoyed the process of finishing this piece.  Hours and hours of stitching without direction, filling in crevices between stones, beside starlit water... switching from French knots to Jude's thread beads willy-nilly, enjoying the surprise of color changes in Deb's threads, and nothing has been thrown... yet.

    "The day's not over," as Dad would've said.

Choosing

    Putting one piece with another, more proof that everything is all part of the same story.

    Last summer a friend, an old neighbor, who I miss having across the street almost every day, dropped off this blue garden sphere.  I love it.  It shimmers in the moonlight and glows in the sunshine.

    Generally, I'm the first one to point out all of the possible problems that might happen in a situation, making me seem gloom and doom-ish to some.  (I like to think of it as being prepared.)  But really, deep down, I do think that things generally can work out with enough thought and care. 

    K's new job was a financial adjustment.  Absolutely manageable, but not the more carefree comfort that his corporate position had provided.  (Have I said what his job is?  Just in case- it's at a foodbank warehouse.  Where truckloads of donations are sent, sorted, repacked, and then local foodbanks come to gather goods to take back to their communities.  He coordinates volunteers, organizes, etc., and drives a forklift (I can't tell you how much he enjoyed learning to do this!))  Not long after he started working there, in an effort to reduce waste, they opened up an area stocked with expiring and excess goods for employees to take home.  It's been great!  Eggs, milk, organic produce, things that we've never tried (the red curry soup above for one).  You never know what might be there... anything from ricotta to the occasional bunch of roses...  

    There have been so many unexpected gifts from this life shift.

    The Christmas cactus has a bud of hope.

"She Chose Starlight"

Gifts

    One of my favorite ways of composing is to just dig around in the table chaos, grabbing a few scraps and puzzling them together.  The best part is having no idea of what is next.

    Last Saturday was my booster shot.  I expected the sore arm and the slightly carsick feeling that were experienced with the first two vaccinations.  Felt fine all-day Sunday, until the evening.  Suddenly tired and underarm lymph nodes, in the vaccinated arm, felt sore.  Weird.  Went to bed early.  Monday- exhausted, nauseous, and nodes hurt.  A three-hour nap in the afternoon, up for soup, and back to bed for twelve more.  Tossing, turning, fever, uncomfortable because of the armpit.  A gradual lessening of symptoms over the next two days, until today.  I finally feel normal again.  Just weird, but I'm grateful to have gone through it if it means not experiencing worse from whatever the virus du jour is.

    There was the tiniest ladybug on the inside of the kitchen window.

    Twinkle has recently taken to interrupting her morning snooze for a visit.  Each day she comes in where I'm working, plays hard to get just out of reach for a minute, and then lets herself be picked up.  She snuggles in my lap for a while, insisting on petting between stitches.  It's nice, although it's been added to the list of signs/worries that she's getting old (13 years).

    Some beautiful sunsets have happened on our corner lately.

    A gift from Tina, holding Jude's star, Velma's soapstone bear, and the smokey quartz that I love.

Forward...

"The Night's Blue Magic"

    Regarding taxes- I hate feeling stupid, it helped that K (an accounting major) wasn't able to figure out the problem either.  A very patient soul, on the other end of the state taxes helpline, held my hand and walked me through the issue.  Notes were taken, in hopes that next year might be the one without tax tears (a person can dream).

    The ER bill arrived yesterday.  I can't even wrap my head around how those numbers are real?  How is this ok?  Combined with the plumbing work, what an expensive month January was.  Today I am just being grateful that we have resources and am moving on...

    Maybe because of this, I'm working harder at being disciplined with my time and stitching.  Routines work for me, so I'm trying to keep to a schedule. This is mostly easy, because I love it.  Now, if only some headway on the business side of things can be made.  Not so easy, but it will be better in the long run if I can just sit down and make myself figure some things out.  I also need to make myself get up and stretch more!

"Hesper" Tree Token

    A piece of all of this is thinking of stitching as a job, which plays mind games on me, spinning me back and forth between joy and weirdness, and even some guilt (or is it old shame?).  I worry about losing my way in it all, losing the heart of it, about valuing myself, about not being who people might think I am.

    With all of the recent trips to Oregon, time with family, I finally pushed myself to talk about my stitching, to call it "My Work" out loud.  Things about it were brought to share for the first time- pieces, the Stitch-illo book, etc.  It was hard to put myself on display with faces looking back at me.  Good and bad comments undo me.  It's fascinating and feels like drowning at the same time.

    My brother (who uses the words "I'm sorry" to begin most sentences) said, "I'm sorry, but they really feel like watercolors to me."

    "That's a wonderful thing to say, thank you!" His words filled me with joy.

    Onward...

 

"Where Dreams Begin"

    With admiration and thanks for Deb, Tina and Jude for sharing their gifts of and with cloth and thread (among other things!).

Taxing

"Twilight in Pink"

Questions...

    Do I hate doing taxes more than K hates being around me doing taxes?  ("You get so angry, Angry, ANGRY!?!")

"Maia" (named for the Greek goddess of Spring)

    If only one thing on the To-Do list gets checked off, is it considered a win?  (If that one thing is "sharpen pencils" does it still count?)

"A Forgotten Dream"

    Does going for a walk, getting some exercise, justify putting off working on taxes?  (If the walk was to the wine shop, does it still count?)

    If this happens instead of working on taxes, is it considered "tax evasion"?

"On the Edge of it All"

    How is it possible that someone who took twice as many English classes than Math and still scored higher in the math category of the SATs, when faced with a simple form, be reduced to tears every single year?

    (Really, I'm fine, and the pencils need sharpened again...)

Songs for Our Circle

"A Pocket for the Burnt and Broken Heart” by Mo 2014

    Reading the posts that hold Rod and Mo in our hearts reminds me again of the strength and beauty of this circle.

    Mo's pocket hangs next to my worktable.   Inside of it are things and thoughts for love and healing.  In a long ago post about it, I wrote, "This beautiful "Pocket for the Burnt and Broken Heart" by Mo arrived a bit ago.  It came holding Mo's amazing spirit and stitching, along with a heart stitched by Jude, and many treasures and inspirations.  I love thinking of all of the journeys contained in it's parts, and how it represents a little corner of the community Jude has created.  I am so grateful to Mo for sharing her heart . . . both kinds."

    Thinking of this community, I thought of the song "A Circle is Cast" by Libana (listen here), and this one...  and remembered being at one of their concerts in the early 90's.  It was an intimate space in shadowy light, with these gorgeous voiced women circling us in song.  It was beautiful and holy.

    For Mo and Rod, holding them, and each of us, in the circle of light that this community is.