handstories

Sweltry

    "Mirabel"- meaning "wonderous."  The vibrant colors in Tina's dyed cloths and Deb's threads are wondrous.

    Results of the second harvest from Deb's plants.  Most of the cloth was originally off-white to pale brown from walnuts, making the results lean to the greenish blues.

    Seattle has joined the heatwave happening for almost everyone.  This tub made all the difference while stitching this afternoon.  (Please excuse the dirty feet.)  There are larger containers of water freezing for tomorrow, so it will last longer.  I am a big baby about heat.  Yep, yep, I am. 

    Last night I melted fell asleep on the couch right after dinner, 7 pm.  Woke up two hours later and went straight to bed after spraying myself and the sheets with a water bottle.  Waking at 3 am when the screen fell out of the window and jumping out of bed at 6 to open all of the doors and windows that will open in this old house.

    There I've whined.  I will try to make it the only time this season.  No promises.

    A couple of other things that are not quite finished or named yet.

    There was something else I wanted to think and write about, but it has dripped out of my brain.

Hoping

"Holding Hope"

Taking Time

    Waiting outside of the post office this morning at 8:58, waiting for it to open at 9:00, a man approached with his package.  Read the sign, sighed heavily, stood behind me. 

    At 9:01 he announced that it was 9:01. 

    9:03 a woman with her letter joined us.  "Isn't it after nine?"

    "Is anyone in there?!" he asked. 

    I looked through the window, "There's a light on in the back."  I knocked politely on the door.  (In the past, the regular postal worker has said that sometimes she gets so busy that she forgets to open the door.)  Nothing happened.

    9:05- The man approached the door and banged on it.  Woman and I raised our eyebrows.  Yelling something about google reviews he stormed off.  Woman and I looked at each other, more eyebrows.

    "The post office has a lot going on right now," I said to the woman.  "We don't have a regular mail carrier right now.  We seem to only get deliveries every other day now, after 7:00pm.  They're just doing the best they can."  She agreed, pointing to the "Help Wanted" sign on the door.

    9:08- A postal worker (not the usual one), scurrying, keys in hand, opened the door and held it open for us.

    We told her to take her time.  

    I have poked away at these stars off and on for two days.  Looking for something in them?  Answers?  Hope?  A path An escape?

    Liz saw a pendulum.  That feint pink line--- all of it hanging by a sketchy thread.  Will it swing back?  Crashing everything in its wake?  Or is it secure?  Swirling in the sky, sharing its light?

    I think I need to make some boats.

Breathing room

    Still playing with the shiny new fabric.  Paired here with Deb and Tina's colors.

    These days the noisy jay fights for territory with these two.

    They sit outside my window yelling at the world, too.

    Twinkle also wrestles for space.

    Dentist appointment yesterday.  All kinds of too much.  (I talked about some of my teeth issues here.)  First the driving, something I rarely do these days.  Half an hour there, forty-five minutes back- some traffic lights were out from the wind, stop and go freeways, a few "PEOPLE!" exclamations were flung (and maybe a couple of other words).

    Approaching the dentist office, which is just off of a strip kind of a road, there were a couple of women crossing the street.  Women who make their livings walking the strip.  One was wearing a mask.  A new meaning for the term "safe sex".  The other woman made me do a double take.  She had no pants on.  A top, a jacket, and a thong.  She must have been cold in the wind.

    At the dentist- they all are very nice, but too many interactions, too many questions, "Do you want x-rays this time?"  "Fluoride?"  "Polishing?"...  I heard myself saying no to everything.  I just wanted out.  She did talk me into the x-rays, but I drew a line and refused to get the full panel one.  The regular x-ray led to discovering an issue, something needs replaced.  "Do I have to think about it today?"  No.  They didn't push.  They realized I had reached my limit.

    I was so glad to get home and stitch...breathe.  This piece, with its Threadcrumb moon, helped to center things again.

"Elsewhere"

Considerations

"Moon Life"

    There were some days with family in Oregon this week.  So much storytelling happens when we're together.  My brother is great at the "gotcha" ones, just like Dad was.  There was a comforting happy comment from K, who said that if something ever happens to me, he'll need to spend more time with my sister, "I love watching the two of you, you're so much alike, and so funny together!"  We are a funny group.  At least we think so.

 

    I stitched myself into a starry corner with this piece, it seemed there were never going to be enough stars to fill the space I wanted covered.  I was seeing stars in the end.

 

"Sky Spells"

    There is no memory of where the textured cloth at the top came from.  It's silk, I think.  Is it considered seersucker?  I think the indigo was my doing.  So much is lost in (or out of) my head anymore.   

    I want to learn how to talk about making more, and need to, as I've just committed to doing it for a zoom hour next March.  My reaction to the request was the usual:  Flattered, sure that I didn't have anything worth sharing and couldn't possibly, panic, wondering how to graciously say "No, thank you", wishing that I could pull myself together to do such things... and on and on.  All of the usual well-practiced and repeated, fear-based things.

    The only thing that I did differently was to recognize that there is a middle place between yes and no, besides fear...  Maybe.  Possibly.

    My reply held questions, concerns, and a confession to never having done this before and not being sure how.  The response was warm and reassuring.  Realizing that I am tired of saying no out of fear, I wrote right back with a shaky "Yes."

    There is a notebook, once used for Moon's "Spanish 1, Ms. Perez, P-3" class, abandoned a few pages in, that now also has the word "Zoom" written on it.  It's where things that might be of interest to other stitchers are being written down as I work.  "Jude" and "The Circle Community" are a few of the first words.  

    Friends and therapist have reassured, "Just tell your stories..."

"In Her Dreams"

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"

Many moons

    Appointments, family in Oregon, and stitching have occupied the last couple of weeks.  Things are good for the most part, but definitely lacking a rhythm.

   The long overdue appointments (due to the changes in insurance over the last year and a half) were surprisingly uneventful.  My eye prescription hasn't changed in eleven years (I still can't see the small E's or the big one).  Even the dentist gave no news (which is good news!), in spite of my diet of black tea and red wine over the last chunk of time.

    The morning paintings hit a wall.  Rhythm had become Rules because of my inner control issues.  Being bossed around (even by myself), tends to lead to fighting back or stopping.

    Pushing through, there were a few stutters.  Not knowing what or where to go.

    I think I'm just going to paint and play with color for a while... see how that goes.

    The therapist has often said to just "sit with it."  Recently, I was saying that I just don't know what to do next?  Or if there even is a next? 

    "Just keep doing the work," she said.  Another version of sitting with it.  Not my comfort zone, but she's probably right.

    So, I'm trying to find small ways to challenge myself.  Layering old ideas into something new, hopefully.

    There was a long phone call with Blue this afternoon.  He's 23 now, still in Michigan, and such a good guy.  I miss him.  I told him about a tricky situation/relationship, and then asked him what he thought I should do?  He had great insights, advice and a sense of humor about it all (I can take some credit for that last trait).  It was a gift of a conversation, not just the nitty-gritty of the topic, but knowing that we can be adults together, trusting each other.  A new layer to our story.

Last week & today

    Yesterday I stitched a star.  The first in a week.

    When I got home last Monday, there was a lot of laundry and picking up to do.  Chores had been ignored by all of us for the last few weeks.  We all kind of threw in the towel and just got through...  I didn't stitch at all for a couple of days.  There was putzing, tidying, show watching... dinners were cooked.

    After a couple of days of nothing, I continued quilting on the woven blanket.  It was on the end of the couch, right where I left it.

    Each night I would fall asleep thinking, "Tomorrow I'll get back to making pieces, blogging, instagram, get focused, get going..."  And then another day of just quilting would happen.

    Friday I went up to the bookroom.  The room where you can't see the books because of all of the stuff that all of us have thrown into it over the last decade or so.  Using Moon's bedroom as a staging area, I pulled out a couple of boxes, started sorting, got overwhelmed, went back downstairs and went back to quilting.

    "You have until Monday," I told myself.

    On Saturday, K said that his sister wanted to borrow something, did I know where it was?  We dug around in the bookroom piles...nope.  Which could only mean that it was in the basement.  Sigh.  It's in about the same state as the bookroom, plus twenty years.  (There was a big clean out some years ago, but still... this nest is anything but empty.)  I headed down. 

      And I've gone down for an hour or two each day since.  The thing was found!  The car trunk is full of donations... with many more trunk loads to go, but it's a start.  Photos and question marks are sent to the boys, piles are left in the living room for K to decide about when he gets home, and "Donate!" has been the reply most of the time.  We are all ready to let go.

    And this morning, a blue pen was used.  It was sitting there, I reached for it, but then thought, no, it's always the black pen, size S.  An unwritten rule.  A pause happened, and then a realization that I made the rules, and could change them, or just break them.  A small thing, but still not so easy for this OCD soul.

    There are more pieces to these stories, but I'm still not focused, my thoughts are scattered all over the place, or gone altogether, but I'm good.

    And today this piece was finished.

    It's about making one's own magic.

Gathering light

"How it Would Be"

    A thin moon layer of Heike's dyed silk allows Deb's wonder cloth to shine through.

"Unexpected Rainbows"

    Bigger than usual, 9" x 7".  More of Deb's cloth sailing in the breeze.

    My favorite spot.

    Life is in a tunnel right now, but there are a couple of lights twinkling at the end of it. 

    Spectrums.

    I have the hardest time photographing paintings.  The light is rarely right.

    Two friends, by two favorite artists.  "Story" made by Cathy Cullis many years ago (resting in a bluebird tea cup that matches one belonging to a dear friend.  She gave it to me so that we could imagine having tea together anytime), and a painting by Amanda Blake, "She Kept Herself Safe".  It was a rare spontaneous instantaneous purchase a few years ago.  I named her "Lucinda," and just looked up the meaning- light, of course.  They are across the table directly in front of me as I stitch.  Keeping company and an eye on things.  There are a few more friends here, but these two are giving me meaningful looks today

    The teacup friend texted today, "Are you ok?" 

        "Nope.  But trying to be."

"Gathering Light"

   Or "Audrey the Third" if you're Dee (ha, inside joke).  A Threadcrumb moon, deep purple wave by Tina and the sky, and reverse-side patch in the bottom corner, are a Maiwa cloth.

A thousand little things &/or stitches

    Thinking about the cycles that happen with stitching, and in relationships.  Both seem slow going and growing at times.

    Last night I dreamt that I was transported to Italy.  So happy, I tried to call Deb G. to tell her, but then the sky exploded with flames...

    The relationship with this bird is tenuous at best.  I fill the birdbath each morning and try to keep out of sight when he shows up.  Landing in the Japanese maple outside the window of the front room, yelling at me if I'm within view.  The other morning he saw me and then went to the porch, continuing to yell on the other side of the door, while snacking in the window boxes.  He likes to eat alone.

    Some of these are mixed colors, many of them are not.  I have an addiction to blue paints.