Vegas. Wow. What a different world. There was fun, heat, and a wide variety of folks to wonder about. Twenty-four hours was more than plenty.
There was another trip there, twenty years ago. K. had a week long conference, baby Blue was one. We invited K.'s recently widowed conservative mom to come along. It was August. All of it...what NOT to do.
I am not a risk taker. I like to Know things, see where I'm going. And how I'll get there.
Cloth has helped in loosening that. But still...
There is work to do.
A boat was made.
And then a tree. There is a story about this day, but the words aren't in focus.
Today this. As is often true when I step out of my boat/tree box, I'm not sure what's happening here.
The photo is a bit blurry because of being taken late in the evening, which is actually fine, because it all seemed this fuzzy when I finally stopped. Those tiny stones were an exercise in small motor skills.
At first it was about the moon with absolutely no idea that the stones would show up. I had thought there would be trees, or at least plants.
Something more belongs in the sky. Not that circle and a half of blue around the moon, those stitches were just pulled out after seeing them here. Maybe I will know what's coming tomorrow.
Today I was afraid of becoming dull with all of this time alone. That words are slowing and floating away, out of reach. We shall see.
A few new pieces are in the shop for the last update of summer.
With Blue gone, Moon's work schedule changed, and K. vacationing at home this week, these last days of summer feel loose and a little lost. Transitions and I have not always been good playmates in the past, but I'm really looking forward to pieces of this fall. Creating rhythm and routines for myself is one of them. With no school commitments for the first time in thirty years, the days are wide open.
Maybe I'll start this new journey with a few boats...they have a way of grounding me.
This is the third attempt at a post. First I wrote a gruesome memory involving twins, a bicycle and a big toe. And then a sappy meandering through hill thoughts. Try, try, again...
My friend's recovery from surgery has been slow and bunny-hopping with setbacks. I drive across the bridge every few days (which has been its own adventure), and stay with her for some hours while her partner tends to other parts of their lives. Each time I pack a bag- stitching, notebook, novel, magazine (in case I can't concentrate at all). Rarely does any of it come out of the bag. We talk and talk, as she rests in bed- about selves, family, people we know, my parenting, her upcoming wedding, Maya Angelou, memories of first grade reading groups... anything and everything.
Another pink hill. I still don't know why they are in my head and heart. Fairytale like and full of childhood memories, maybe? Why the "and..."? The lines in the fabric invited a word to be written. There was an "and" discussion this week, how it's much kinder than "but...". It's true, and it will take some practice. And it makes me think of storytelling... "and then...".
And now I'm going to go pack up my bag again, and head over the bridge, to tell some more stories about who knows what...
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.)
I like this scrap of cloth at the top of the photo very much (thank you, Jude). So, not ready for it to be gone...cloth inspired cloth. All day I stitched on it, almost non-stop.
It was great to work from start to finish in a day. There was wide open time because my foot needed resting. The evening before there was a misstep on our old deck- a quick turn, and then my foot went straight through an old board, with the rest of me crashing to the ground, curled up in a heap, crying, and cursing (which Moon says he's very sorry to have missed). Honestly, it was quite dramatic, I texted my sister afterwards. She said it sounded epic. We wondered who would play me in the movie? Good grief, I just don't bounce like I used to.
Ice, arnica and propping up made a difference. Still scraped and bruised, but the swelling is down, and it was a great excuse for spending the day mapping a sky.
This is just how things feel- out of focus, beautiful, odd, sad, a little ominous, and ok.
Blue's home for a few days before heading back to school. He came home from Prague Friday evening, went straight up to bed and came down sixteen hours later, saying, "I woke up at 5am, and then I took a nap." I miss being able to sleep like that.
This spot of blue stitches...they weren't all necessary, mostly crooked, probably unnoticeable in the end, but they mattered at the moment, a kind of mending, a spirit patch.
The moon woke me up this morning. Shining through the window as bright at could be at five. Got up to find glasses, to bring it into focus, which made it smaller, but still piercingly brilliant.
This sky was filled with stars last night. Today the boat was lined with some of the sky cloth. It's hard to see, but it's there.
No "jewels" going into this one. Maybe it seems empty, but really it's too full to put anything else into. Maybe the boat is the treasure? What if that were true?
Such a gloomy glum has hung over for too long. Feeling done and dreary yesterday morning, I thought I'd try stitching a boat. It had been a while, three months. It felt forced and wobbly, but I kept going.
Deb's cloth and threads, and Jude's moon helped, but still, I didn't feel a real flow.
Some waves were added in the therapist's waiting area. She's so swell. Aside from being very wise, validating and kind, she's an artist and an introvert. She gets me. She knows when to push and when I won't budge.
"Maybe you want to tell them how you felt about it all?"
"Maybe, but I'm not going to."
"Maybe we should talk about why you won't?"
"Maybe, but I'm not going to."
"Then where will it all go?"
"Here. And then I just need to let it all go."
And I did.
And later the stars came out.
It may take a few more boats and conversations, but today I can imagine some light in the shadows.
