handstories

grateful for moments

    Late afternoon yesterday, I was so happy for this moment while stitching... A tiny mid-stitch moment when I could see where this piece might want to go.  It felt like falling in love.  

    It was a swell break from the overwhelmed breaths that seem to be filling the days.  There's just too much going on, inside and out.  And I've probably said this already, but I can't remember, because of all that's going on in my life and head.  Some of it is good and/or growth/life stuff, and the rest are things I don't know how to, or want to, but need to do-  updating my browser, business things, parenting things, etc... 

    But, then yesterday, this piece was turned a different direction, and there was finally a connection.

    And later, this sunset...

    It will be ok.

    (With additional gratefulness for Jude's moon & Deb's cloth and threads)

the games of childhood

    Finished "Playground" is hard to photo.  The many, many, many tiny stitches don't show up very well.

    But, sitting here holding it...blue marbles and purple hopscotch squares whisper memories of a blacktop full of monkey bars, swings and see-saws... games of Jacks and chalked Tic-Tac-Toe created with stolen pieces of chalk from the classroom.  

    Swinging from ring to ring felt like flying.  In those days, girls had to wear dresses, but in order to play on the equipment, you had to prove to the recess teacher that you were wearing shorts under your skirt.  On days that they were forgotten, a good friend could be convinced to share hers by sneaking behind the huge tree in the center of the playground to slip the shorts from one to the other.

    In winter, when the big long puddle that ran along under the second grade windows finally froze, we would line up a ways away, and take turns getting a running start towards it, hoping the momentum would allow us to slide the entire length.

    Bottlecaps was a favorite.  Gathered from home and the streets, twenty-five tops of beer and soda bottles were carried to school in pockets.  Two players would take turns removing one, two or three.  The goal was to force the other player into having to take the last cap.  I figured out that if it was the other person's turn when there were fifteen left, that I had won.  I used to be very good at survival tricks.

the shape of a memory

    The back of "Playground" so far.

   Looking for a big circle to trace for the next layer of stitching, I noticed this plate in the back of the cupboard.  It dished up a whole bunch of stories. (Ha.)  

    It belonged to Great Great Aunt Kate, a woman that was long gone before I came into the picture.  The only story I ever heard about her was from Grandma Rosee.  Rosee had no middle name and her Aunt Kate had no children.  Kate offered young Rosee a dollar to take Katherine as middle name.  She took the dollar, and the name.

    Fast forward a bunch of decades to sometime in my twenties...

    Mom handed the plate to me.  "You should have this.  It belonged to Rosee's aunt."  Flipping it over, there was a scrap of paper taped to the back, a note written by my mom,  "Katherine O'Neill- a feminist."  A pretty piece of family history took on a new meaning, a symbol of one of the big tug and pulls of my mother's and my relationship.

    My first memory on the topic happened when I was around twelve.

    One day Mom excitedly showed me a newspaper article about her recent charity work.  Under her photo she was identified as "Mrs. Dad's first name (Mom's first name) Last name..."  (i.e. Mrs. John (Sue) Smith)

    "Why is Dad's name in here?" I asked.

    She explained that was the proper way to refer to a married woman.

    "But you did all of the work, and he didn't do anything!"  I went on and on, yelling about him being the one who should be the in parentheses, if at all.

    She took the article back, frustrated that I had burst her bubble.  It was the first of many exasperated-on-both sides discussions between us regarding women's roles, with neither of us budging or understanding the other.

    I'd like to think Aunt Kate would be glad I have her plate.

first day

    Today there was a little knitting while waiting for my oatmeal and tea to cook, and then stitching on this piece I'm calling "Playground" for now.  Later there was more stitching, followed by the dismantling of a very large falling apart contraption that has been living in the basement for several years.  It took half an hour to separate the garbage from the recycling- made of cardboard boxes, toilet paper tubes, tin foil, legos, etc. and lots of duct tape... a long abandoned creation by Moon.  The goal is to take at least one thing out of this house a day.

    There was more stitching.  Lunch happened, along with laps in the Y pool and a little grocery shopping.

    Next came more stitching, rows and rows and rows of dots (Jude's invisible baste, and that's one of her moons, too.), which make me so happy.

    No school, no commitments, other than to myself.  It was a very good first not-back-to-school day.

    Time to make dinner, and then some more stitching to do, while the light holds.  

& beyond

    Found in a UFO pile (unfinished objects).  A lot of unstitching happened, new scraps were added, along with one of Jude's moons from ThreadCrumbs.

    And then it started to flow...  I was waking up as the sun rose, hurrying through shower, oatmeal and tea to get back to it.  The hours of the days slipped away.  I was told I'm becoming feral.

    When it was almost finished, someone asked if I usually have a plan?  Rarely.  It usually starts with scraps and goes from there.  Ideas come as I stitch along.  The story grows too.  The best ones tell me something about myself.  Understanding another layer of that was the gift of this one.  That there is a strong deep relationship between going and connection.

    So much to think and feel about.

    "Beyond"

the glow of things

    These are quiet days.  Blue and Moon are both usually working, or hanging out with friends.  For me, there has been lots of time for stitching and catching up with friends, too.  

    Yesterday's walk was with an old friend I hadn't talked to in six months.  We've known each other for almost twenty years, taught together, our boys went to school and played together when they were small.  She's one of the smartest coolest people I know, almost always calm and takes things in stride.  

    As we rounded the park, I shared some of the experiences of the last months, trying to tone down my stories, so as not to seem too overly dramatic compared to her collected self.  Surprisingly big bold expressions came out of her mouth!  I loved every one of them, and was so grateful for the validation.

    Sitting on a bench at the end, we went on about the now, and what's next for each of us.  I went on about my studio, how it has changed things.  "You've needed this for years," she said, and asked if I was finally going to let myself just be in this piece of time, without self-judgement and worry?

    "I think so."

        "I'm so happy for you."

    "Me, too... Who am I?!?"

    We laughed, and I felt warm from the inside out.

day one

    Yesterday was my last day at school.  Transitions always find me kind of lost, wandering through rooms wondering what to do with myself.  

    There was a little stitching with these squares (Five of them are scraps from Jude, including the sweet purple moon, and Deb's thread is holding them together.)

    There is a "Want To-Do" list that has been growing over the last months, with things such as being more active in this community again, organizing my studio, reread some Willa Cather, learn more about cyanometers, and how to make apple strudel... 

    There was putzing and haphazard painting.

    And this little pile of tiny scraps was found together.  I think they have a story to tell...

    Moon came home from school and asked the nicest thing, "How was the first day of your future?"  

changing it up

    These two, one of Jude's moons and a mountain shaped scrap, were at the top of the pile.  Red is not a usual go-to, but I wanted to see if something could come of them.  Deb's thread helped.

    Thinking about what I have, how to work with that, how to think about things and approach them differently... in cloth, too.
        A story about transition, as I head into the last week of my school job.

neighbor days

    The neighborhood has had plenty of stories this week.  

    We attended the memorial service for Mr. C, he was 96.  Mrs. C. is 96 too, in great shape, still gardening and a pillar of her church community.  She looked beautiful in her black sequined hat at the service.  (She has an amazing collection of "Going to Church" hats.)

    They built their house in 1956, and have always kept it up impeccably.  We've lived next door to them for the last 27 years.  He mowed the grass and cleaned the roof himself until the last couple of years.  I would watch him up on that ladder with fear and awe.  A quiet man, always cordial, knocking on the door now and then in summer to hand us zucchini and tomatoes from his garden.  He'll be missed.

    Our youngest neighbor across the street (9?) is a musician, and has had a guitar or drumsticks in his hands as long as I can remember (I can hear him playing right now).  His School of Rock concert was at the Hard Rock Cafe downtown yesterday.  They passed out much needed earplugs on the way in.  Someday we'll be able to say we knew him when.

    And then there was the trip to visit with old neighbors...  K. and I drove up for a day to have lunch with my Iowa friend, who used to live a few blocks away, but has retired up on the peninsula.  

    We also saw our old next-door neighbors (on the other side), who moved there a couple of years ago, too.  We miss them so much.  Just swell people, both artists, with two sweet boys.  He's a painter, and a house builder by day.  Tininha, is now weaving beautiful passionate textural creations. 

    While there, we met their lovely friend, Tracy, also an artist, who weaves, stitches, works on paper...the list goes on.  It was so nice to sit and share about making.  The big news is that we've started plans to have a show together later this year.  Excitement and nerves abound, but the two of them are full of grace and know-how, so it should be swell.

    There are so many un-knowns right now.  Focus and stitching are all over the place these days.  Nothing's quite done, waiting for more story to come...  And I keep thinking of something Jude said to me years ago, "...and it all formed as it might."

what's new...

    New stories in the shop... Take a gander here.

    Many thanks to Deb Lacativa, Tina, and Jude for their talents and sharing of cloth and thread.