handstories

Time in cloth & thoughts

    Beginning with one of Jude's moons, this cloth exploded into being... "Cosmic Crossroads".

    The morning paintings are looking more and more like cloth to me.  There are a few ideas about following this thread.  So many ideas, and even with all of the time in today's world, it still doesn't seem enough.

    Moon and I are home alone for a few days.  Still, with most of his day spent at school in his room, other than meals, I hardly see him.  I'm grateful for the moments of connection when he pops downstairs to share something of interest now and then.

    School is going so much better for him (and us!) than last spring.  There is no blame in that statement.  No one was prepared for what happened and everyone did the best they could, but really, for the most part it was a wash.  This year there are expectations and accountability- class, small group and one on one meetings with teachers and other students. 

    Moon even loves most of his classes- especially theater (we're looking forward to the upcoming online productions they're creating), physics and math.  I've listened to his recently written one-act (death, chess and existentialism), tried to understand the existence of ten dimensions (I got lost in the sixth), and the other night, when he came down distressed, feeling that he and his peers are losing this last year of childhood because of the virus, listened, and tried to offer hope, as he hoped that his passion for math and physics lasts, and that "someday, if I'm lucky, I'll figure out a way for kids not to be afraid of time like I am."  His deep thinking has always amazed me.    (P.S.  My time has been spent with thread (with no idea of which dimension I'm in).  These tokens, "Cosmic Crossroads" and other story cloths will be in the shop tomorrow (Friday, October 14th, 9am PST).  Thank you for taking a look!)

stories for selves

   There's been a bad case of start-itis going on around here, but finally some pieces were finished. 

    Trees, moons, ships, and a still life in pink.  Stories of celebration, wonder, connection, and being there for yourself- the tales I tell myself over and over to carry me through.

    If you're in search of a story too, they're in the shop here, thanks for taking a peek.

steps forward

    Moon had a really good day yesterday (even without a hug from his girlfriend or a car).  Blue joined us via Facetime in singing Happy Birthday over candle lit donuts.  We even did a family selfie with Blue on a phone screen.  A sign of the times.

    The three of us stayed up until midnight eating donuts and watching Moon's choice of a Harry Potter movie (which made me happy to know that he's still just a big kid, in spite of telling us all day long that he's an adult now.)

    I've been absent a lot here and on the internet in general.  Between things that have happened for us, and the nothing of most days, my lack of oomph won out.  Really, we are ok enough, and better off than so many. 

    I'm still feeling storyless, actually, that's not true- yesterday triggered bad memories from my 18th birthday, but I don't want to write about that.

    There has been stitching.  These patchwork pieces keep coming.  They surprise me and I like them.  Onward...

balancing things

    Yesterday brought news for us, not unexpected, but still, it has tilted things.

    At the same moment a beautiful email came, from a soul who does such good in the world, creating space for healing.  It was a reminder that in the big view of things we are ok.

    The rest of the day was spent stitching, finishing up pieces, thinking about the many possibilities for how things might go. 

    There was a new start, too, and a recognition of that moment at the very beginning of a cloth, when I don't know what will happen, and of how much I love the wide openness of that.

      Gratefulness for Jude's moons, star and scraps, Deb's cloths and threads, Tina's cloth, and so much for the centering circle of this community, oxo.

another Tuesday

    Eighty-nine squares to go.  I paused on this one for a while.  Indigo, walnut and tea, I think.

    A couple of squares begun.  This one with one of Jude's stars, it had floated to the top of the basket.

    This strange thing happened yesterday in response to Jude's post about wrinkles.  Not quite sure what's happening.  It felt like birthing something, maybe myself, but looks like a rock garden, too.  Maybe my mind is a rock garden?  Now I'm remembering childhood stops at a rock garden and museum- an attraction the family would stop at on the way to visit cousins.

    The book of loved things continues, but at a slower pace.  Some pages take longer, like this one of a retired favorite mug.  It was the perfect mug- size, image, handle...sadly, the glaze has worn off on the inside making it unsafe to drink from.

    Just a bit of Rosee...

    "Every night after work, Stew and all the girls in the beauty shop and I went riding before bed time.  It got so hot that summer that the whole bunch of us took a blanket and went out and slept in the pines.  It was a lot of fun.  The summer of 36 came along..."

floating over the deep

    Last night, I went to bed thinking about art, process, and my place with it all right now.  Somehow this led to remembering days at summer camp at the Oregon Coast...

    Every year, on Friday, the whole camp would go over the dunes to the beach, working together to carry a long thick rope.  I couldn't tell you how long, or how many of us there were.  A hundred children?  Fifty feet?  We would march down the sand, parallel to sea.  Once we arrived at the designated spot, the counselors would spread themselves along the rope and carry it out into the ocean until they were waist deep, creating a barrier between us and danger.  When the signal came, we would all run in as hard and fast as we could!

    I remembered that feeling of jumping into the waves, and the occasional momentary drowning panicking feeling when overwhelmed by a surprise surge, and then being upright, breathing air again, excited it might all happen again, and the anticipation and elation of jumping just right, so that the swell carried you almost to shore...  It was a joyous kind of baptism.

    (You should know that it's hay fever season, and I'm in those first loopy days of meds...)

moon talk

    We've become good friends over the last couple of weeks, telling each other stories, making a new one together.

    Jude's big orange moon sings with the stars of Deb's thread.

    Collaborating with cloth.

"Moon Talk"

    She's in the shop.

just when you think you've got nothing...

    A new place to wander.  Summer's indigo scraps and a ThreadCrumb moon (about 13 x 13").

    There's been a lot of forehead furrowing by K. and I about Moon's future plans.  K. keeps telling me to not say anything, that it will push his heels deeper in, but I can't seem to help myself.  So, the other night, jokingly, I suggested a different idea.  When he didn't react, I stepped out onto the ice, slowly and carefully saying some of the reasons why I want this to happen for him.  He seemed to be listening, so, bravely (or foolishly), I kept going... 

    "I just want the world for you..."

    Finally, I stopped, held my breath and hope that I hadn't cemented the deal for his original plans, and turned to busy myself with making dinner.

    And then...

    "Mom, I love you, too." 

    I managed to keep the happy cry in in until he left the room.

    And, he's looking into and considering our idea.

a blur of Joy

    The wedding was in beautiful Whistler, BC.

    Everything sparkled.

    And twinkled.

    And glittered.

    Young and old danced and sang until midnight.

    Including Moon and me!  I hadn't danced in years and years...  It was a perfect party. 

    I loved every minute of it-  all of the details from tying ribbons around the bouquet to into her hair, cutting fleecy "snow" for the stumps we attendants sat on, convincing the bartender that even though they only ordered wine, "surely" there was a bottle of bubbly somewhere for the happy couple (there was!), talking with strangers (who felt like family), the ceremony, dinner, dancing, watching everyone be so very happy (the couple, Moon (who charmed all of the girls, from five to thirteen), everyone) ...All of it.  I couldn't stop smiling.

    Before falling to sleep, I wrote "Joy, pure joy!"

    We came home Sunday night, and I slept for eleven hours, and then yesterday, began really stitching again, all day long.

    I'm back, and feeling better than I have in months.

works-in-progress & a story that has nothing (or everything) to do with them

    The nitty-gritty things for the show were stressing me out (again), so I gave myself permission to not worry about them this week.  Instead, a few more story squares were worked on, and I'm calm again (for now).

    This morning I had planned to go to the grocery store at ten.  After the morning rush, before the lunch crowd, and knowing the library would be open by the time I headed home.  At nine I suddenly had the feeling that I should go Now.  Five minutes later, a few blocks from home, I came upon an accident involving a scooter and a car that had happened moments before.    

    The young man was stumbling and trying to move his bike out of the road.  Being the daughter/sister/aunt of fire fighter and EMT folks, I pulled over and got out to help.  While convincing him to sit down, he looked at me and said, "Were you my teacher?"  Looking him in the face, I recognized E. right away.  He was the sweetest boy, who struggled to get his poetic thoughts down on paper.  We had spent many hours working one-on-one together on his writing more than ten years ago. 

    The accident happened right in front of the house of the woman who hit him.  We settled him on the porch, moved his bike, she brought him a blanket, and us tea, while we waited for his dad to come.  His dad arrived, and the two of us got the bike into his pickup.  As they were leaving to get him checked out at the ER, I gave E. my phone number, asking him to let me know if he was ok, and then I headed to the store (at ten o'clock).

    He texted later saying he has a torn ligament in his knee, and also how scared he was when it happened, and how it helped to suddenly see a familiar face.  He is still a sweetheart.  

    Some of the "just the right" cloths and threads are from the makings of Jude, Tina, and Deb.