UFO to CG

Like any respectable quilter I have a collection of UFO's (unfinished objects) that have cried out for my attention but never quite captured it - but then, if I knew how to finish them they would not be UFO's, right?
On Christmas night we get our little group together for dinner at our friend Tom & Joe's house. (Nothing like an impending Christmas party to light a fire under the UFO cauldron.)  I needed gifts for three ladies who (lucky for me) appreciate hand-made items.   I learned a few things that I thought I would share with you:

1.  Anything - and I mean anything - can be made into a tote bag.

2.  I need to invest in a good walking foot for my Bernina.

Solange, a bona fide French Parisian, was born and raised just outside Paris in a village where her father was mayor. When WW II broke out this graduate of La Sorbonne went to work for the US Intelligence Service and can tell stories that would curl your hair - all in the name of freedom.  I adore this woman. I want to be Solange when I grow up.  She is always incredibly and immaculately dressed, most often in haute couture Chanel she wore (and still fits into) from back in her college years in Paris. (It still looks fabulous.)  For Solange I made a tote bag out of some Michael Miller fabric that was a gift from a friend who went to Paris.  I was going to make a bag for myself but got sidetracked and never got it done.  The fabrics, the colors and the subject matter were a perfect match for Solange, who loved the bag.  This is how it came out:

[caption id="attachment_2281" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Interior bag"][/caption]

Irma was next.  Irma is a pistol, she's an 80-something firecracker who loves being (as she calls herself) our "Jewish Friend" in attendance at our annual Christmas party.  This year Irma brought her mother's Hanukkah menorah and we had a little ceremony where she lit candles and did the blessing. It was sweet.  Irma is also a world-class knitter so I knew she didn't need a tote bag as much as a knitting bag.  I had a few pieces of Sashiko that I finished ages ago and had hanging in my sewing room gathering dust.  I combined them with some bits of a failed Japanese quilt that went south with a bullet (thankfully before I got too far) and made Irma a new knitting bag:

[caption id="attachment_2287" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Ignore the brassy yellow, it's all a deep gold"][/caption]

Last but not least was Kay, Tom's mother.  She is the only "mother" left in our little group, all of the rest of us having lost ours, so she is our group surrogate.  She is a warm and wonderful woman who taught English Literature (what's not to love!) and adores travel.  I had a wall hanging I was making for the kitchen that stalled out and sat in a box for 8 months when I took it out and decided it, too, could become a tote bag.  (See #1 above.)  I am delighted with how it turned out and I think Kay was equally delighted to receive it.  I have, however,  resolved that as much as I adore Japanese fabrics I have a looong way to go before I learn enough about sewing with them to try anything else very soon. (See #2 above.)  Here is Kay's bag:

[caption id="attachment_2290" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Haven't added the black handles yet...."][/caption]

So there you have it - a bunch of UFO's turned in to Christmas gifts.  No patterns, just did it on the fly. I always hesitate to give things I have made myself because I don't think they are quite "gift giving"  caliber but I love all three of these women and I wanted to give them something from my heart, something useful, practical, but with a little whimsy. They were very well received and I feel pretty good about that.  It's nice when giving a gift makes both the giver and the recipient happy, no?

PS - Sorry for the weirdly stacked images, Wordpress is trying to shove them all into the same gallery and I wanted to separate them into their own categories.  Anyone know how to change that?

[caption id="attachment_2291" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Detail - love those YoYo embellishments!"][/caption]

Christmas in the Garment District

We were given the most wonderful Christmas gift from a dear friend - 3 days in Manhattan (last week) to do the Christmas "thing" in the Big Apple.  I have not been to New York in ages and I must say things were different, but mostly in a good way.  It was much cleaner, much more polite (I know!) and had a much heavier police presence.  We had unseasonably warm weather, the kind that continues today and reaaaally harshes my Christmas buzz.  I like snow and at this time of year I want a little frosty.  We won't be able to use the fireplace on Christmas because it will be too warm. How messed up is that?

As for the trip we did the usual touristy things (and a few OMG things) and had a ball.  Joe had never been to the Empire State Building so we timed a late-afternoon visit to avoid the lines. SCORE.  We went right up and had a good look at the most amazing city on earth.  The lobby of the ESB was just restored to it's breathtaking art deco magnificence; it  was like being in a movie.  Rockefeller Center was decked to the 9's and full of skaters, shoppers and tourists. All good things led to lunches and we went full throttle on a few places, including the Stage Deli.  There is nothing like a great NY deli. Bonus - you aren't hungry for a full week afterward. Oy.

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The highlight of my trip was breaking my Garment District cherry.  I've wanted to go forever and decided this was the trip. (Note to self - leave the guys at a deli & Lionel Train store while I do my thing.)  I was only able to get to 2 places, B&J Fabrics and Mood Fabrics, but both were fantastic.  I found the most beautiful selection of Liberty of London tana lawns and I treated myself to two of them to be used in a future project that must be found UTTERLY worthy.  The big score came when my good buddy (whose name I can't remember) dove through piles of rolled bolts and helped me secure just the thing for my long-unfulfilled fantasy.  I've always wanted a dressing gown - a circa 1920's fabu thing that you see in movies. (Ashley Judd wore one in DeLovely and it was stunning.)   I have looked for one for years in every brick and mortar and online store I could find.  Even the fabric was impossible to obtain. The closest I came was a place that had a good embroidered faux silk Shantung done in a very passable... polyester. (I'm a champagne girl on a beer budget.)  I'd pretty much given up hope when I found a silk Shantung that was swweeeeet. It is light as air and has the most beautiful (tho impossible to accurately photograph) Nile green color, and since I needed a lot I  managed to negotiate a price I could live with. (I knew being married to a Sicilian would pay off someday. ) Likewise for the satin, which will be used to trim sleeves, pockets and a wide, lovely collar.  Oh sigh.  It really is Christmas! It will probably be next Christmas before I'm swishing around the house wearing it, but by then Joe will have found a proper chaise lounge for Madame to recline upon while she plays upon her iPad.  It could happen.

Unexpected Treasures

The great 1st-time-ever SWAP fun continues.   I'd almost forgotten that I would be the recipient of a swap gift when it arrived yesterday and  I was thrilled. I'd seen sneak previews on the Flickr page and coveted the hell out of the beautiful journal  (done in a fav fabric line) but did not think I'd be the lucky recipient. Squeee! Tammy (from Texas) is another incredibly talented person with a blog and an ESTY shop.  How do these women do it????  I can't even find  my good camera, but the shots below are a peek at Tammy's lovely handiwork.

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BONUS - I also received an exquisite, hand-made ornament from my very talented craftsman-friend at Quiltboxes. (It's the center picture above.) I'm already the proud owner of one of his fantastic QuiltBoxes. It has a place of honor on my dresser (I wrote about it here) and this lovely ornament will probably hang from my pediment mirror because I'm sure as heck not hiding it in a box until next Christmas.

All of the above to say that the most wonderful gifts are those made by human hands.  I'm amazed and awed by the creative talent in the world.   We've lost so much of our humanity by paying for things with money we can't see, downloading books or records we can't actually touch or hold - it makes me feel we are slipping down a hole into a dark, solitary place. There is no finer present than one we can hold and feel and use and sense the good intentions and kindness  (and talent) of the person who made the gift. It adds an entirely new - and spiritually valuable - dimension to the gift.

Swap Performance Anxiety- Part 2: THE REVEAL

My first online swap - a fun thing people do, and quilters (apparently) do a LOT.  I've never had the nerve until this December when a Twitter peep suggested an online swap. (Please review Swap Performance Anxiety - Part I).

So who did I get?  Some nice quilter in the hinterlands who, like me, had never ventured into the swap arena?  Someone who would, like me, be under the radar?

NOPE.

I got a Zombie.  The Happy Zombie, Monica Solorio-Snow, designer of the fabric line Happy Mochi Yum Yum, "heroin" to many quilters.  I was dealt a published fabric designer, pattern designer - you get the drift.  Sweet merciful crap - you can understand what happened in my colon when I read that name and thought, "What the )#(*&)@(#  am I gonna do for her?"

I ended up chickening out and selecting a few Japanese fat quarters, adding some ribbon in her much-loved colors, and embroidering a little wool bird to satisfy my own need to include something "home-made" in the packet.  Then I tucked it into a cloth wine bottle gift bag I'd made ages ago and put it in the mail.  Then I had a drink.

A few days later, the Twitter feed heated up:

She was lovely.  She was warm and real and kind. I felt ridiculous for being so worked up about doing something for someone so accomplished.  One of the best things about people who do what they love is that they know and appreciate things that other people do for them because they know how much time and thought goes into creating things.  I have on more than one occasion  made dinner for a former chef of  Maison Robert in Boston.  When I confessed my anxiety she said, "You'll never know how much I love it when other people cook for me - it's just a joy to sit back, relax and enjoy the meal."

So there.  Let's all just relax.  Let's just, in the immortal words of Paul McCartney, "Let it be." It's so easy at this time of year to get all up in our heads about what we must do, produce, create and provide.  Let it go.  Let it be.  Rejoice in each other - the days we all have together are not as numerous as we'd like to think, the holidays are numbered and do not to be Martha Stewart TV perfect. (Seriously. Besides, she is loaded and she has paid staff. Who wouldn't be fabulous?)

Rule number one: don't sweat the small stuff. 

Rule number two:  it's all small stuff. 

~Robert Eliot

Swap Performance Anxiety - Part I

We've already covered my anxiety issues with creativity in art, but I've taken it to a new level.  In the world of social media, the online quilter community is alive, well and active!  I ventured in to an online swap organized by an online peep  who threw out the idea of having a secret Santa swap via Twitter. I jumped right on that idea as a great way to venture in to my first-ever swap.   (Disclosure - in the evenings, I sit with my iPad and enjoy an adult beverage while I read through the tweets of like-minded quilters, comics, and others.) These "adult beverages" get me to do things I might not normally do if my performance anxiety fears are not properly repressed.

ANYWAY, I signed up for my first swap.  It took a little time for Amy to sort out the participants (I think there are over 50 of us) and get us all partnered off. There is a $15 limit, it can be hand made or not, and finished and in the mail  by December 10th.  Easy peasy, right?  Right.

Sure. Unless the Secret Santa Swap partner is a quilting uberstar.  Holy crap.  When I saw the name I nearly fell over.  My first reaction was to bail out.  Honest.  What do you do for someone like that?  I spent the first week just spiraling.  I spent the next week attempting to do some sashiko in her favorite colors.  It came out nice, but not "here is something I made just for you" nice, but "what the hell are you on" nice.  I caved in and set it aside. It's not that bad, just not good enough to offer someone with her background.  Crap.  It's just a swap, right?  It's not eternal judgement, right?

In the end, I decided to.....WAIT.  I mailed the package today and I can't really say what it is in it until it is received by my partner.  I'll reveal who it is (and what I sent) in a later post.  In looking at the pictures of what other swappers sent (on a Flickr page) I'm feeling pretty okay about what I ended up doing.  Not great..... but okay.  That's enough for me, the twin sister of Stuart Smalley:

Black Friday Fail

About three weeks ago I "hit the slide" at work and gave my notice.  I've been juggling 4 different jobs for some time now and the mental and physical toll it has taken has proven to be WAY. TOO. MUCH.  When you find yourself standing at the front door of your house trying to get in using the remote door opener for your car - it's time to step back. When you collapse in tears because it isn't working and you can't figure out how you will get inside your house....well, desperate times call for desperate measures. (PS I've still got a part-time bookkeeping job and I work at my husband's store, so it's not like I'm really free......)

I'm cashing in the 10 hours a week I spent on the road for some sleep and rest. I've had a few days at home to begin the process of uncoiling my tightly wrapped head and body and I have the following observations to make:

1. I can still sleep for hours like a champ.


2. There is an unbelievable amount of CRAP on TV.


3. What the hell is going on with "Black Friday"?

I'll say right up front:  I think stores should be closed on Sundays. Period. With the extended hours and 24 hour openings of most drugstores, there really isn't any urgent reason for stores to be open on Sundays. Seriously. With that in mind, you won't be surprised to hear me bitch about store openings on Thanksgiving. When did it become a matter of life and death for stores to be open ON Thanksgiving Day?  Or at 4am?  or 6AM on Black Friday? Target I think you should be horsewhipped.  Do you hate your employees that much? I'm boycotting you for the foreseeable future.  WalMart? Oh hell,  I stopped shopping at your stores years ago so I'm not wasting my breath acknowledging your existence and continued scorched-earth policies. I really don't get the whole "thing" about getting up early to go shopping but then I'm not a recreational shopper.  For me it's a chore. Besides, I can't think of a single thing that would move my tail out of bed at 4 AM on a cold, dark November morning. Not. A. Single. Thing.

Ever hear that expression, "Money is like manure - you've got to spread it around"? I choose to spread my fertilizer around where I live. Area shops have the most wonderful (and unique) gifts. There is a new toy store that has the coolest things I've ever seen. They also have an art supply store! I'd go nuts in there, but I'd be buying for myself. There are a couple of great locally owned, non-chain coffee shops for when you need to rest and refuel. I'm betting your town has the same kind of deal going but too often people overlook the local shops or take the time to go and see what is there to choose from.   (Most of them haven't set foot in downtown for years and have no accurate clue about what is or isn't available.)  To these people I say, "STUPID. STUPID."  You must have time and money to burn.  Good for you.  I don't.

There is the argument that you'll save money if you go to malls, but I'm concerned with more than that -  I'm looking at the time and effort and the cost of gas it takes to get there.  Spend $10 more for a sweater in town or save $10 and go to the mall.... let's see,  it is a 46 mile round trip, about 3 hours (including driving and shopping), working my way through the crows, waiting in line or ..... for $10 more I'm home in 5 minutes?  Bonus - a local small business owner gets a little help?  For me - that's a no brainer. Win win.

There is a wonderful campaign called Small Business Saturday that encourages people to shop locally once a month.  The impact would be absolutely life changing for your town, your community and your friends.  Support local artists - buy handmade.  Do it often, not just once a month.  Change the world. Tell the big banks to suck it.  OCCUPY MAIN STREET.  Do the right thing, do it as often as you can. Everyone wins and for that we can all give thanks - hopefully from the  peace and quiet of our own snug homes.

The Gift of a Lifetime

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Got home from work Tuesday evening to find a package from my sister in the mailbox.  It was my mother's quilt journal, in her possession ever since we sorted through and divided up mom's stash. I had pretty much forgotten about it but when I opened it up I immediately burst into tears. (Hey, it was election day and my husband was running for reelection. Major stress.)  Just the sight of her handwriting on those pages overwhelmed me - why is it such an intimate thing to see the handwriting of a lost loved one?  I started paging through, reading bits and pieces and laughing hysterically at all the sales receipts for fabric tucked in between the pages.  Mom was a fanatic about keeping track of money,  writing down what you spend, etc. Much to her frustration it NEVER caught on with any of her daughters.

I keep a sort of quilt journal (or so I thought) until I went back for a second, more thorough reading of Mom's journal. Mine just lists the quilt,  when I started it, why I made it, etc. Mom took quilt journalism to a new level - why was I surprised?  She talks about the fabric, the colors, where she goofed on some part or other, the brand name of the batting she used, notes about how well it did or did not needle, who the quilt was for, measurements, dates - in an astonishing level of detail. She added bits about a class she took here, a shop hop there, a book (title AND publisher) she was given for Christmas or a birthday, reviews of quilt shows and coveting the work of others.  I also learned she had a bunch of purple and blue ribbons on quilts she exhibited at fairs, and I wondered about where those ribbons  ended up. I also found a cheat sheet she used when giving a talk once to a guild. It just had bullet points about many things, but there was a section on how quilts are a wonderful gift for commemorating birthdays and anniversaries.  Then she had "45th anniversary quilt"  listed as her next talking point.  It was good I was sitting down, because my knees would have buckled.  That was the quilt made by her 3 daughters - my sister Pat pieced the top, she mailed it to me for hand quilting and I mailed it to Peg to do the binding.

I have written about the family quilt before,  but I was not prepared to see it come so full circle.  The quilt we made for their 45th anniversary was the same one we used to cover Mom's casket at her funeral, and brought it out again for Dad in April of this year.  The gift of a lifetime?  Apparently it has become the gift of many lifetimes.  Her quilt journal is so rich in family history and information - by adding the year or date or occasion, it is now possible to remember when and how old Dad  was when had his stent surgery (important to a brother who is worried about the same), who received which quilts, the date of their last visit to Gloucester, and the satisfaction of knowing how many of my cousins have a bit of her work in a wall hanging, place mats, or quilt.

I don't see myself as ever being as prolific in my quilting as my Mom, but I do know I need to document in much more detail what I have done.  I've already forgotten about quilts I have made for babies, to send off for this or that, and I think I need to be better about it all. I'm not sure who will know or care down the road, but  I know from her example it will have had impact on someone, somewhere.  Thanks Mom -  you've been gone 10 years next week and I still learn valuable lessons from you all the time.

Guaranteed-to-Scare-You Halloween

Want to know the scariest thing about this Halloween? Aging.  I was rummaging through my digital files looking for a good Halloween image to use in a project when I came across this x-ray of my back.  Yup, it's for reals. I had a spinal fusion for scoliosis at 16 and they threw in a Harrington rod for good (straightening) measure. It was state of the art in 1974 but today could easily be featured as a prop in a horror movie.

It's been a rough year.  I've been undergoing spinal injections to remedy pinched nerves and collapsed discs (see the red, non-smiley face) to determine if/when/which/where to approach with a surgical intervention.  This was complicated by a bad fall & a wrist sprain that keeps giving me grief.  (I had 3 separate people tell me, "You should have broken it, it would heal faster.") Roll that all up into a ball and nest it with feuding PMS & menopause and you have some idea of why my romantic 23rd wedding anniversary dinner left me a little weepy.  As we drove home we talked about all the people who filled our house the night before the wedding and how many of them were now missing, waiting for us on the "other side."  As we pulled in to the driveway and got out of the car, I felt that familiar catch of pain in my lower back. Joe immediately caught my arm and walked me up the front steps.  When we got inside I burst into tears and said, "I feel like I'm aging before my own eyes!"  to which Joe replied, "Yeah, with a bullet!"  Thankfully, it broke the tension and I had a good, long laugh. No one can call it like Joe - he's the "glass half full" anchor in my life.

So the treatments continue and we've made  progress to the point where I can actually sit comfortably. I am ready to get back to my sewing soon, even if it's just hand sewing and  making hexagons. I always feel better when I'm at the Bernina, or cutting up new fabric, or whipping a binding on to a quilt.   It feeds my soul, I like the creative process, and it makes me feel like I have accomplished something wonderful. Best of all -  I get to make another baby quilt! My wonderful niece and god-daughter, Katie, is due in the spring.  I like sewing for a new little life.  It puts the whole aging thing into perspective and motivates me to push through the bumps and dips because the  view from the heights is all that much better. Maybe that is the secret to growing old gracefully - as hard as it is to keep patching up the old body, it's worth it a thousand times over when you experience the world with so much wisdom and experience - and love - in your lenses.

My Quilted Consolation

A few days ago while guiding a cruise ship land tour I was in the process of crossing the street when I caught my front toe on the edge of a curb and went flying. As luck would have it my head missed an angled granite flower box by about a half an inch (I'd be getting coloring books for Christmas for the rest of my life if I had connected with that thing) but still managed to land on my right hand, arm and shoulder. One of the other guides came to my rescue (thank you LINN!) and  as luck would have it, one of the passengers in my group was a nurse.   We bagged it with ice & I finished the tour, mostly through gritted teeth. I went home, repacked the ice, took a fistful of ibuprofen, crawled into bed and slept until about 9PM when my husband woke me to eat something and repack the ice.  Since I had a physical scheduled the next day I was able to get x-rays to make sure nothing serious was broken or fractured.

I'm sporting a ghoulish bruise that extends from the palm of my right hand to almost halfway down my arm - eeewww.  I have it wrapped for support and camouflage. I can type for about an hour and that is IT.  Fingers, wrist, elbow just ACHE.  I carry around one of those little blue picnic bricks of ice like an accessory clutch purse, but covered by a zip lock bag so it doesn't sweat or drip. It's a look.

I can't dry my hair or put on makeup without looking clown-like.   When I forget the injury and try to pick up an empty  coffee cup or plate I drop it and thunk the edge on my granite counter tops. ( I now have a matched set of chipped Dansk Bistro dinner plates.) I can't begin to hold a needle or  sew, and frankly I'm starting to spiral up in my head about if or how much nerve damage is going to be part of the prize package that comes with me being such a klutz.



I am bitchy, crabby and sore, so you can imagine my happiness when my treasure arrived in the mail. Not long ago I decided to gift myself with one of  Dave Grunenwald's  QuiltBoxes.  He donated one to the Lowell Quilt Festival last year and when it arrived it stayed on my desk for an embarrassingly long time before I was forced to give it up to the committee.  These boxes are made by a talented, master craftsman who appreciates the art of quilting and surgically duplicates the perfect points and curves in a natural and beautiful medium. He is truly an artist.

I wanted to come up with something that would serve as a  bit of a commemorative piece. My mother, the quilter, has been gone ten years next month. My dear dad,  the hobby woodworker, has only been gone for six months.  I needed something that was a bit of both of them and a bit of me. Hence, the beautifully handcrafted wooden box with a quilt block design.  But which design? Dave makes it nearly impossible to choose - you want all of them.  After months of indecision I chose the mariner's compass block as an homage to my life by the sea in Gloucester, Massachusetts.  So all 3 of us are here in this one magnificent treasure. I'm not sure what I will put inside it yet - the bottom of the box is lined in black velvet so it must be something special. I had him add a little knob to it because my well-known OCD "issue" with hand lotion would gum up this little beauty in a NY minute.

I feel better just looking at it, touching the top, marveling at the silky smooth finish. It smells like wood and a bit of varnish, kind of like my dad's hardware store.  Within my limited means I try to support artists and craftspeople like Dave so that we continue to have beautiful, hand-made things in this world. Do the same - you will not be disappointed, I promise.

PS - It has taken me over 3 hours to put together this post. See how we suffer for our "art"? :)

PPSS -  I took the liberty of using Dave's photo as I can't begin to take a picture or wrestle the cords into the slots with this stupid damn hand all messed up.  Note to all you lurking grammar police and spell check Nazi's  -  I'm doing the best I can so take it elsewhere, m'kay?  A better use of your time would be to go to Dave's website and check these out. Seriously, you know you want one......

The Mystery of the Bernina Walking Foot

HELP!  I've got this thingie that has another thingie and I can't for the life of me figure out how this should fit on my Bernina 1090 and operate as a walking foot.  Even the good people at @berninausa can't seem to fathom how this thing works.  They said it fits the same way the new one does, but mine doesn't have a....um....."receptacle" for the machine to poke into. (Think male/female parts.)  Here are a couple of pictures I shot with my iPod touch (my digi camera is MIA....)

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Anyone have a clue?  ANYONE?  It has a little arm that should go up and down if it were somehow connected to something, but it doesn't have the little "claw" at the end of it to hook on to your needle bar.  It also has a long, l-shaped arm thingie that somehow hooks in to it and lets you use that to measure the distance between your quilting lines so you don't have to mark up your fabric.  I really want to use a walking foot in my quilting SOMEDAY, but I have no idea how this thing works.  I know my mom used it, but alas - that is one part of the enormous cargo of information that sailed when she did.  I've tried using my MOMStar but that doesn't work either. Maybe I'll make a vodka and Squirt and see if I can channel her.  (That reference was for my sisters. xxxx)

ANYONE?

Magenta Vendetta

Color has always intimidated me.  In my earliest youth I believed the power to unleash my vast artistic talents depended solely on getting the BIG BOX of Crayola Crayons when school started in the fall.  Every year I wanted the big box - and every year I was let down. I can't blame my mom, she had 6 kids to buy schools supplies for and not much in the expendable resources department. Sure, I was blessed to start school wearing those beautiful dresses and outfits she slaved over,  but all I really wanted that damn big box of crayons that had the crayon sharpener in the back. FOR REALS - a crayon sharpener!  Oh, I knew I would be absolutely prolific if I had that weapon in my arsenal.

Magenta was the queen of the crayons.  I loved that crayon color more than my own life. I always asked to borrow it from friends who had parents that loved them and did not abuse them by sending them off to school in front of God and everybody with a measly 12 or 24 pack of crayons.  M a g e n t a. Say it loud and it's almost like murmuring an enchantment. My brother Gary got the semi-big box one year and it had a magenta crayon...but he knew I loved it and never let me touch it.  My opinion that brothers are turds was formed early.

To this day color still intimidates me.  Up until a few years ago I wore only browns, blues, soft tones that just stayed in the back row and didn't clamor for attention.  Quilting has helped change that in a big way.  Now I look for clothing with a little POP of color and have a little somethin' funky behind them.  It's hard to find them in clothing that is "suitable" for my age. I've long since lost the desire to show the world my "girls" - in fact, I'd donate them, I'm so tired of hauling them around.  Ditto for pants that ride low on the hips or have great color but are ruined with a splatter of fake bleach or worse - rhinestones.  Believe me, no one wants to see my ass bedazzled.

Fast forward to a blog surfing session about 3 weeks ago.  I saw this done by a woman who did it for her nieces and I just loved it!   I wish I could remember where I saw it so I could give her proper credit. My bad.   Anyway, I thought I'd do it up and hang it in my sewing room as a reminder that color is now my friend.  I went to the craft store to pick  out  a stretched canvas and headed over to look at the crayons.  The whole GET THE BIG BOX thing came back to me so overwhelmingly I just grabbed it and threw it in the cart.  HAH. I laughed all the way home, and squee'd  as I fired up my hot glue gun and glued them on in a neat little row.  Then I tipped the canvas on an angle, turned on my very hot blow dryer  and this is the result:

Tah-dah!   Isn't it a howl?  You can guess which little crayon was spared the vindictive wrath of the hairdryer.  Yes - I now have a magenta crayon. It will remain mine forever and be perfect forever.  I'm ready to move on and grow up.  I have vanquished my white 4-H ribbon and resolved my magenta vendetta. I'm even feeling more kindly toward my brothers, although they still give me attitude for not having a "real" job.  Whatever.

Like Arthur's sword Excalibur, Luke's light sabre, and Harry's wand I too have my talisman of power and will wave it at the world and accomplish great things.  I promise to use it for good and not evil. Thank you, Crayola Crayons -  thank you for my magenta.

Autumn, 2001

Watching the coverage of the 10th anniversary of 9/11 has derailed me.  I felt something coming on all week but today the whole thing crystallized for me. Everything in our lives changed that day, but what went on to happen in the next two months almost crushed me.

The September 11th attacks were surreal. I kept thinking we'd find it was just a few rogue idiots - wishful thinking, it turned out.  When in the following days it became clear the scope and source of the attacks amounted to an act of war  I was bewildered. This was something that happened to other generations (WW II, etc.). I did not think I would live to see something of that scope happen in my lifetime. Throw in the weeks of coverage and struggling to get a grip on it all, I needed to go away and regroup.

Luckily, I was booked to fly out of Boston to Jackson Hole just a few weeks later to spend a week with my sister and her twins in Yellowstone.  It was an annual trip and I always loved going out there, but when I woke up the morning of my departure I had such a knot in my stomach I was almost physically sick.  Flying out of the Boston airport was suddenly very scary.  I had no idea how the security and processing methods had changed, or even if it was safe.  Copycat hijackings were on my mind as Joe dropped me off at Logan Airport. We have not before or since had such a tender farewell.

Just after I returned from Yellowstone we got word (on October 23, 2001) that my 69-year-old mother had pancreatic cancer.  I remember the date because it was my wedding anniversary and Joe had given me a necklace with a gold heart and a little ruby (my birthstone) in the crest.  I made him take it back because when I looked at it all I could see was a broken, bleeding heart.  My mother, diagnosed with cancer?  She was the healthiest person I knew. Three weeks later she was dead.

Ten years later I feel it all very keenly.  Calling 9/11 it a "life changing" event is an understatement of epic proportions.  Watching the coverage this morning, I kept thinking, "10 years ago right now, everything was fine.....10 years ago right now, everything was fine." Then 8:45AM came, the time the first plane hit, and I felt like I had stepped over a line.  Everything  was no longer fine.  Ten years later our country struggles with the far-reaching impacts of that day, including our current economic storm.  I struggle to find  the "new normal" but nothing seems stable. We live on the shifting sands of economic threats, challenges of aging and everyday unknowns.  Maybe it's because I'm 10 years older and see things differently from the perspective of my fifties. Maybe it's because I lost my much-loved dad just 5 months ago and now I feel both their absences so intensely.



Maybe there is no "new normal" because there is no "normal".  This could all just be a rite of passage into becoming a wise elder, but I don't feel grown up enough to be a wise elder. I remember with great nostalgia being able to effortlessly jump on a plane and fly home by myself to visit my mom and dad.  Dad was usually watching golf, football or baseball. I'd be stretched out on the couch watching the game, reading or (usually) snoozing. I did not have to make a decision or be responsible for anything.  Mom would bustle around and inevitably say, "Did you fly halfway across the country just to sleep?" and I would always smile and say, "Yes, Mom, I did."

I liked that era of my life, of America's life.  I will never stop missing that "normal", nor stop wishing to find a new one for myself and for all of us.

Why Quilts Matter - to Me

As a museum (and quilt museum) professional, I have a major chip on my shoulder formed by years of friends and acquaintances dismissing what I do as not a "real job".  Tell people you work at a quilt museum and they tilt their head a little and say something like, "(pause...) Well....isn't that niiiiice! You must lovooooove it!" They act like it's just a big 'ol quaint, cozy sewing bee.  Let me tell you something - there is nothing cozy about it. We have layoffs, budgets, deadlines, evaluations and performance goals. We are dealing with decreasing revenues and increasing costs - AND we have to deal with the general public e-v-e-r-y day. Believe me, it's a real freakin' job.

I promised a review of this program and here it is. I really did not know what to expect when I popped a copy of Why Quilts Matter: History, Art and Politics into my DVD player. There are some quilts in the series from the collection of the New England Quilt Museum  (where I have my "pretend job") so we received an advance copy.   I was so afraid it was going to be all Sunbonnet Sue and ditsy prints and old grannies with their white hair in a severe bun at the back of their neck - or go on to reinforce other negative stereotypes about quilters.

BOY WAS I WRONG.

I was positively thrilled at how wrong I was.  Shelly Zegart has taken the quilting bull by the horns and put it all out there - the good, the bad, and the dicey politics. There are nine programs in this series, each featuring good scholarship and interviews with experts. These are interspersed with photographs, images of many beautiful quilts and some good b-roll of exhibitions and colorful locations.  I downloaded the nine episode guides to my iPad so I could follow along with the narration. When I saw a particularly beautiful quilt all I had to do was look down and see the name, maker, location, etc. Nice touch.

The best pat?  Oh, how I bonded.  I bonded with the Gee's Bend quilter who said, "When I finish the top I love it, and then when I take it out later to quilt....I get another breath of it."   I nodded knowingly when Shelly Zegart talked about how quilting is often dismissed as "just" the work of women or looked upon as a domestic chore - not an accomplishment or an art or craft. I stood up and cheered when Shelly took on The Sun Sets on Sunbonnet Sue, threw down about the MYTH of the Underground Railroad Quilts, and called out THE QUILT POLICE on their marginalizing hostility. I felt proud to be a quilter, I felt my peeps were finally getting some respect.

As a museum professional I especially enjoyed Episode 6: How Quilts Have Been Viewed and Collected.  There was a wonderful discussion of how quilts are appraised and evaluated (just because they are old doesn't mean they are priceless, people)  and what makes them historically important. It was so gratifying to see it put out there for all the world to see and learn what epic changes and the rise of authoritative scholarship that has come about in the past decades.  The existence of The Quilt Index is one shining example of the tremendous knowledge base that has been created. The database of over 50,000 quilts, essays, lesson plans, and images has become the preeminent starting point for quilt research and exhibit planning.  Let's not forget the mothership - The International Quilt Study Center in Lincoln, Nebraska.  I guarantee that if you visit their website and play with the Quilt Explorer you will look up 2 hours later and say, "WHAT? WHAT TIME IS IT?" There are numerous organizations that promote quilt scholarship and research. The American Quilt Study Group is one of the most preeminent of them, and I am proud to note they are also based in Lincoln, Nebraska.

Fair Disclosure: I was born and raised in Nebraska.  When I hear people disparage the fact that the IQSC is located in Nebraska I get a little sideways. I grit my teeth and nicely point out what a great idea it was to locate it in the CENTER of the country where everyone has equidistant access. I then take the opportunity to educate them about the outstanding textile studies programs in place there long before the IQSC was founded.  

Let's wrap it up: this program is well worth the purchase price.  Yes, you'll see it on PBS but you won't see it all because you'll miss an episode and you won't be able to realize the full impact of this production. It will move you, inspire you and enable you to carry your head a little higher. If we truly want to promote and continue the work, art and craft of quilting we need to make it a priority.  We need to support this kind of scholarship and PR  with our blogs, our actions, and our money.  Buy it from the Kentucky Quilt Project. Buy it from your locally owned quilt shop or from a museum.  Just be sure you share it with as many people, guilds, neighbors, townspeople, church groups as you can.  It is a wonderful production that will entertain, inform and enrich anyone who appreciates something truly beautiful.

Quilts really matter to me.  I've given up more financially rewarding job opportunities to do what I do.  I don't want to burn out for a corporation. I don't want to come home exhausted to benefit a bunch of faceless stockholders. Don't kid yourself - I come home burned out and exhausted all the time. My daily commute is a 100 mile round trip. The cost of gas is killing me. I do it because I want to be around this kind of art. I learn from my co-workers and visitors every day. I'm willing to do it as long as I can because I thrive on the emotion I have always felt when seeing a quilt for the first time. It never lessens. I have the curators trained to call me when they are opening boxes for the next exhibit.  I want to be with them and see them first. When I go upstairs to open or close the galleries I have my own private time with the quilts and it just. fills. me. up. I am inspired, I feel creative, and I feel proud knowing I use my daytime hours to care for, promote and share this art. I can then go home and use my talents (and what I have learned at work) to create my own beautiful quilts.

Quilts have always mattered to me. From my earliest childhood I have always felt and known hand-made objects to give off a sort of emotion, energy, karma - I'm not sure what to call it.  I feel it when I touch quilts made by others - especially old ones. They almost whisper to me. Willa Cather (another Nebraska girl) called it, "That irregular and intimate quality of things made entirely by the human hand." This quote says it best:

It took me more than twenty years, nearly twenty-five, I reckon, in the evenings after supper when the children were all put to bed. My whole life is in that quilt. It scares me sometimes when I look at it. All my joys and all my sorrows are stitched into those little pieces. When I was proud of the boys and when I was downright provoked and angry with them. When the girls annoyed me or when they gave me a warm feeling around my heart. And John, too.  He was stitched into that quilt and all the thirty years we were married.  Sometimes I loved him and sometimes I sat there hating him as I pieced the patches together.  So they are all in that quilt,  my hopes and fears, my joys and sorrows, my loves and hates.  I tremble sometimes when I remember what that quilt knows about me. 

Marguerite Ickis, quoting her great-grandmother in the book,  Anonymous Was a Woman, 1979, Mirra Bank, St. Martin's Press.

A Few Small Bites

That is what my Dad used to say when he pushed back from an especially huge, rich, filling meal.  "Weellllll, a few small bites....." always made me giggle.  It still does whenever one of my siblings says the same.

While I haven't got time today for a full-blown thought I can report the following few small bites:

The  Brace Cove Beach Glass quilt has been handed over to the happy couple. I think they were kind of shocked, I'm sure it wasn't what they thought I (who trends toward antiques) would have made for them.   It went without a label because (building-the-pyramids-in-Africa-long-story) it will have to happen when I finish yet another one.  Don't ask.   We also returned their dog, a lab mix named Ella (AKA Cujo). I need to walk the house to find out if she had any special places she left her "mark" that I may have missed while we were dog-sitting.  She is in dire need of training - behavioral and other - but it's up to her daddies to get that done.  Meanwhile, when Joe spoke - SHE LISTENED.  He's the alpha dog, man. Watching Ella/Cujo is a mixed bag - we miss having a dog but we were reminded of how much work they are to feed, maintain and exercise. The sad part is the acres of conservation land behind us are now full of coyotes and foxes and fisher cats. We could never  put Ella on a lead (like we did for our dog, Rusty) and let her run around the backyard.  That makes me sad because I believe dogs should be able to run around outdoors as much as possible. I can't sit on the back porch with a gun to ward of critters for 2 reasons - 1) I have a life and multiple jobs and,  2) Joe won't let me pack heat.  I have asked. (I hate crows, they can wreck the garden,  and a BB gun seems a reasonable solution to me.)



While I was minding Ella the past couple of nights I was able to watch a preview copy of Why Quilts Matter: History, Art & Politics that is coming out this fall on PBS.  You can also purchase a copy - and I recommend you do.  You may not watch it 100 times but I guarantee you'll watch it more than once,  and we all need to step up and support this kind of work.  I actually made notes while I watched the last 4 episodes and I'll go back and do the same for the first 5.  There is a LOT in this production.  I laughed - and yes, I cried. (Those Gees Bend women do it to me every time.) I also wept thinking of how I'd give anything to being able to watch and discuss this with my mom.  Sigh....

I was especially pleased that  Why Quilts Matter dove in and covered the dark side of the ugly politics between and about quilters - such hot button issues.  Even if you do not quilt, the art vs. craft themes,  how often the work of women is dismissed as unimportant or simply domestic duty, studio quilts vs. traditional bed quilts  - it's all there.  I'll have much more on it when I get caught up with myself and de-dog the house.  I have a lot to say about this production and I know you will, too.

Festive Binding

I'm ensconced in Lowell for the 3-day Lowell Quilt Festival.  At the New England Quilt Museum it is a requirement that all staff is on hand for the duration.  I'm good with that - even though I am missing an EPIC McGill family reunion - but 2 nights in a hotel room by myself (woot!) is a real treat, and it is saving me 200 miles in commuting back and forth after very long, hard days.

Even more of a treat is the fact that miracle Cheryl (my new co-worker) was able to longarm my quilt in world record time.  I found out the couple for whom it is intended took out a marriage license and told us to stand by for an August wedding.  ACK!  AUGUST? I was planning on having the marvelous Mazon's Quilting do the job because Gayle has been holding my hand for over a year while I sorted this quilt out and survived 2 breakdowns of my Bernina.  Gayle answered about 10,000 of my questions and taught me so much about prepping my quilt, etc. that it broke my heart to let her know I had to get a "rush job" done here.  Gayle and Steve are very talented, successful longarm quilters and they have a long waiting list - as they well should.  Take a look at their site and give them some love for me.

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So back to the quilt.  Beach Glass - Brace Cove is finally finished. I put the binding on it before I left for the festival and I got two sides of it hand stitched down last night.  I hope to do the other two tonight and take home a finished quilt.  The picture here shows it spread out on my hotel bed - the hotel room light has a yellowish tinge in it, the fabrics are actually MUCH brighter and more vivid. I included a closeup of one of Cheryl's nautical embellishments. She made it look very ocean-y with waves, whirlpools, a seashell here and there - it is so much fun to look at all the wonderful things she did.  She has been a co-worker for only a few weeks when she overheard me shrieking that the wedding was coming up at any moment. Her offer to take it home and finish it for me was SO incredibly kind.  I have only had contact with 2 longarmers - Gayle and Cheryl - in my life, but I have learned they are the very kindest and best of people.  Time to mix up a vodka tonic (I know how to travel) and get the last two sides stitched. I shall sleep very well tonight knowing I'm ready for a pop-up wedding with a gift that will send the lovebirds over the moon.

Lowell Quilt Festival

Strap on your party livers, it's time for the 2011 Lowell Quilt Festival!  This year's show is scheduled for August 11th through the 13th at the Lowell Memorial Auditorium. The judging is done, the quilts are in the process of being transferred to the auditorium for show prep and presentation, and the winners......have not been announced yet!  It is a closely guarded secret, although I will confess to sneaking in to the museum's classroom (hey - I work there, I can) while they were photographing the winners.  (WOWZA.)  It is nice to get up close and personal with award-winning quilts. The "do not touch" rule strictly applies, but under the photographer's lights you can see every amazing detail.  I am always inspired to see what creative quilters can do given the time, fabric and sheer love of their art. I wanted to go home and shut myself up in my sewing room, crank up my Bernina and let the threads fly.

I'll do my best to post pictures from the show - we have some firm photography guidelines that apply to everyone (even staff, that's me) and they are RESPECTED. I can tell you we have a series of RED AND WHITE quilts from the New England Quilt Museum collection that will be on display, along with a number of "Lunch and Learn"  and "Tea at Three" programs that let you rest your feet and learn/see great presentations.   Admission to the festival is $12 for a bracelet that also gives you admission to the New England Quilt Museum.  One admission for 3 days - such a deal! There is a free shuttle bus that loops all around so you can visit partner sites and galleries that all have special exhibits and quilt-related shows.

This is the museum's annual and biggest fundraiser - be sure to check out the pile of antique and vintage quilts donated to the museum for this fundraiser - they will be tagged and on sale at the auditorium. (Note: do NOT get in front of me when these go on sale.)  I'll be at the New England Quilt Museum working the LQF Admissions desk most of the week - say hello when you come in!

August Wool

The dog days of summer are here with a vengeance.  Living so close to the icy Atlantic used to mean an afternoon sea breeze that cooled things off to the point where you had to close a window at night.  Not any more.  I am a climate-change believer.  I used to have at least five or six summer weight cardigans I needed to wear in the evenings out here.  Now I'm slicing the sleeves off old t-shirts to find something cool enough to wear around the house.

In July and August we crank up our trusty R2D2 air conditioner in the family room and I haul down my embroidery floss basket, a tub of wool felt and start  cutting up birds, stars, ornaments and mug rug pads so I can embroider my little projects that I sell locally.  I've set up a corner of the room that now looks like a wooly tornado hit it - complete with splattered bits of color from the bits  of wool and knots of embroidery floss that get snipped off as I work.  I could clean it up every night after a session of sewing, but what is the point?  A sample of works in progress:

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There is always that bit of a re-learning curve that comes with taking up embroidery after a long break.  I fumble around trying to remember old stitches and sometimes invent new ones in the process. I get very frustrated that the work isn't spacing evenly until I hit my rhythm and I'm back in the groove.  Then I wonder why I ever stopped - hand sewing is the most relaxing thing (well, next to a cigarette and a martini but I had to stop  smoking years ago and you really should not #gdas).

BTW, I  highly recommend the "R2D2" style of AC for a single room use.  I've put up heavy (upholstery remnant) curtains in the 2 open doorways to the room so it stays remarkably comfortable.  Joe rigged up a little template so we can tuck the exhaust hose out one of our windows. The only other work is to make sure there is a bucket next to it because it needs to "pee" every 5 hours or so.  (We don't leave it on overnight.)  The water gets taken outside to the porch to water the flowers.  It's a win-win.

I wait until I have a bunch of them finished before I bag and tag them - it's a very gratifying part of the process.  My tag reads "MSQ" as a tribute to my mom who used to make and sell small quilts and table runners at our shop here in Gloucester.  Since her last name was Major, she tagged her products, "Major Stuff Quilts" - hence,  the MSQ on my label.  I like sewing in the evenings while we watch a movie, surf around the DIY channels, or just discuss (and solve) the world's problems.   Joe is always there to bounce ideas off of and give me solid tips on getting the most bang for my embroidery buck.  Best part  -  he really gets it about my sewing, quilting, etc. and that is a remarkably redeeming quality in a partner.

EDIT:  If you were wondering, #gdas is a Twitter  hashmark for a Friday evening TweetChat where spirited, earthy sewing enthusiasts pop a cold one and discuss projects, tips, good food, and whatever else strikes our fancy.  (The name Get Drunk And Sew tells you all you need to know.)

Sweet Corn Wars

Indulge me. I am locked in my annual sweet corn battle with my husband and I need to vent.

Growing up in the Platte Valley of Nebraska learned a few things about farming, seasons, and when the hell you eat sweet corn.  My husband (a barnacled coastie from Gloucester who has an umbilical cord that won't reach over the bridge and wouldn't know a farm implement if it rolled over his foot) thinks sweet corn is pretty much available 24/7, 365.  Consequently, he started bringing home this "stuff" from the local grocery stores in May, crowing about how this is going to be a "good batch" and asks me EVERY NIGHT IF I WANT SOME CORN ON THE COB.  Every night I say NO I DO NOT WANT YOUR FAKIE, TASTELESS YELLOW JUNK.  Does he stop?  No.  Does he give up?  No.  Will this be the cause of his death someday?  Highly likely.

I have an almost religious fervor for authentic sweet corn. Even the proper way to cook it is a bone of contention at our house. Joe boils (yes, boils) his fake yellow pellets-on-a-cob while the chicken is still on the grill.  I am serious. I am not making that up.  I explained how the water should be simmering and everyone seated at the supper table before you even SHUCK the corn, but my vast experience is lost on him. It is apparently his culture; it seems to be a big problem out here because I see people at the grocery store shucking their sweet corn AT THE STORE and then putting it in their nasty produce bag to cart it up to the register.  This effectively starts the dehydration process before they even pay for the corn, insuring by the time they reach home it is suitable for feed corn (that's for animals, people) and nothing else. Let it sit in the frig for a few days before you cook it and....well, I can't even go there.

One of the last times my parents flew out here was in August, about the time of the Perseid meteor showers.  I remember when I went to Logan Airport to pick them up I saw them come off the plane with luggage and nothing else.  I shrieked, "Dad, you didn't bring sweet corn????"  He stopped, turned to my Mother and said, "You know, we drove past all those farm stands on the way to the airport (180 plus miles) and we didn't think to, did we?"    I wanted to turn around and leave them both at the airport.

I recently found the blog of a classmate who talks about living and working a farming operation in 2011.  It is unlike anything many of you would imagine.  His Platte Valley Farmer blog gave me a huge lump in my throat.  It brought back so many memories, made me terribly homesick, and positively despair over ever tasting proper sweet corn again.  I've pretty much given up on consistent sweet corn it out here - every store in town calls it "local corn" WEEKS before anything planted locally could be ready to eat.

At least now can visit my friend's blog, watch the corn grow and learn more about how positively amazing the science of farming has evolved.  Every August I enjoy looking back on the night of the Persieds with my parents, my mom's peach pie & cobbler,  and  pretend that on that mid-August night we  perfected the evening with some authentic and buttery fresh  sweet corn.

PS - The next time Joe tries to get me to eat his impostor sweet corn I am going to buy a really expensive piece of fish, boil it, cover it with ketchup and serve it to him for supper. Maybe then he'll get my point.

Red White and WOW!

I wasn't lucky enough to go to NY and see the Infinite Variety show at the American Folk Art Museum, but I did download the free iPad app and enjoy playing around with all of the spectacular red and white quilts.  Since I also work for the New England Quilt Museum it was a natural next step for us to show some major love for the red and white quilts in our own collection.

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Just a few short weeks away is the Lowell Quilt Festival.  In addition to a city-wide celebration of quilts, IMAGES - a juried quilt show - the NEQM is going to feature a special exhibit of our own red and white beauties:  Inspired by the recent exhibit of Red and White quilts in New York City, New England Quilt Museum Acting Curator Laura Lane has put together a group of red and white quilts from the Museum’s Permanent Collection.  This group of Red and White quilts will hang at the Lowell Memorial Auditorium throughout IMAGES 2011.  The exhibit will feature the stunning  "Feathered Star with Wild Goose Chase" quilt pictured on the dust jacket of America's Quilts and Coverlets by Carleton Safford and Robert Bishop.

IT GETS BETTER.  We decided to feature this quilt on a woven, Jacquard blanket made by ChappyWrap of Martha's Vineyard.  Our exclusive design features the Feathered Star quilt from our collection, woven in Germany, and beautifully done with a red & white (cream) design that reverses on the back side. They just arrived in the shop and they are GORGEOUS.  They are also selling right away - a good sign we hit the target with this design.  We'd like to do one quilt from our collection every year, making it easier for all of us to have something beautifully made that supports the quilting arts, makes a wonderful gift and makes an even more wonderful treat for yourself.  Bonus - you can throw in the washer if you spill your wine on it. Okay, maybe that's just me.....

The blankets can be purchased at the Museum's gift shop and at the Lowell Quilt Festival.  These are NOT, I emphasize NOT a fleece throw.  They are thick, woven, Jacquard blankets that are beautifully made.  Our first production is limited so be sure to check them out. More info coming soon on the New England Quilt Museum website -  or you can email Quita (Shop Manager) at    shop at nequiltmuseum dot org   (Spam bot avoidance right there.)   See you at the Festival!

Whining Interrupted

I have neglected my blog - a series of days with temps in high 90's &  heat indexes of 107 can do that to a person. There are only 2 rooms in our house with an AC unit and anything outside of those rooms is uninhabitable.  Add to that my first, EPIC case of poison ivy and you have some idea of where my head has been for the past three weeks. I finally broke down yesterday and saw a nurse practitioner  who took one look at me (and my jumbo zip lock bag full of OTC lotions and sprays) and prescribed oral steroids. She said it "might" make me irritable.  (I told her my husband would not notice the change.)

While I whine and moan and complain about the heat, itching, and how everything in my laundry basket has calamine lotion stains, a blogger who I admire and love has had more on her plate than any human should have to endure. The blog is Toddler Planet , but don't let the name fool you. Toddler Planet is written by Susan Niebur, four time cancer survivor, astrophysicist, and mom of two happy little 4 & 6-year-old boys. Susan is now fighting metastatic breast cancer in her spine, hip, and ribs, still looking for that "new normal."

Any ONE of those things would be enough to deal with, but all of them?  There are no adequate words to describe her brilliance, her humor, her humanity and her uncanny ability to take her own trials and use them to benefit others. She makes science and the study of the stars spellbinding.  I am in complete awe of her - and I pray for her daily.  I think of her often, and at odd times throughout the day.  I have always believed that when we think of someone out of the blue, it is actually grace compelling us to say a prayer for that person.

As I get older, I appreciate more and more the short prayer Catholics say during the Our Father.  When you get to the "deliver us from evil" part most Christians continue right  into "for Thine is the kingdom..." but Catholics inserted a little bonus application for help:

Deliver us, Lord, from every evil, and grant us peace in our day. In your mercy keep us free from sin and protect us from all anxiety as we wait in joyful hope.....

Being protected from anxiety is something I have struggled with my entire life.  I love that little add-on, and I  frequently use it as a stand-alone prayer.  I believe in the power of prayer.  I pray that Susan is delivered from anxiety, and from all the other things she is struggling with today.  Please join me & send up your own versions of something that will wrap this woman (whom I have never met) in a loving blanket of faith, healing and comfort.

Thank you.

Loving French Knots

Long, long ago (1984) in a state far, far away (Nebraska) I spent the summer embroidering French knots on squares of plain muslin.  I liked the process, I liked hand sewing, and I liked doing it while I looked at the map of Massachusetts tacked up on my wall.  I spent the summer making knots and thinking about my new life to come,  waiting for Labor Day weekend to arrive and my big move to Boston.

The finished muslin squares were put away and forgotten about for a long time.  When Mom and Dad flew out for our wedding in 1988, Mom found the squares in my sewing room and chastised me for letting them gather dust.  I never thought about it again until 1989, when this arrived on my doorstep:

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You could have knocked me over with a feather.   This was the quilt responsible for me getting in to quilting myself - I didn't think I was capable of creating something that could wind up (with a LOT OF HELP) this substantial.  The label is one of Mom's typical gems - done in left handed calligraphy:  " Candlewicking: by Joan Ciolino, Gloucester Mass. Quilt: by her  Mother, Mary Ann Major, Lexington, Nebraska. 1989."   How absolutely wonderful is that?

We use the quilt mostly in the fall but when we put it on our bed we have to put it face down - dragging your arm across those bumps in the middle of the night is not a pleasant experience.  It still serves a useful purpose, and the other months it hangs beautifully on our bedroom quilt rack. The colors are dated,  the whole thing is tired from many uses and washings, but it's the only thing my Mom and I made together.   In short, it's exactly what a quilt should be.

Check out this new site:  We Love French Knots.  It promises to be an interesting and informative place to learn how to create beautiful heirlooms.  As the weather gets hotter here in Gloucester, I find myself needing portable hand sewing projects I can take to our family room where trusty R2D2 (the mobile AC) makes my life bearable.  Happy 4th of July - I met my husband 24 years ago today.  He REALLY makes my life bearable....

Bridal Etiquette and the Lack Thereof

It has been a while since my earlier installment of wedding and guest advice/etiquette.  I am reminded of this because as I wound my way around Gloucester's beautiful back shore this morning  I saw some of the hotels setting up those tell-tale white wedding chairs on the front lawn.  I felt sorry for all the people who had to spend the money to schelp to Gloucester only to find out that much of their holiday weekend would be spent not sitting on a beautiful beach, but  sweltering through yet another insufferably long and self-absorbed couple's wedding.

We used to do a booming business in printing formal wedding invitations at my husband's gift shop.  Now people do them on their computers.... you know, the same way you  would for a 3rd grader's birthday party.  As a 22 year veteran of marriage and about 20 years in business working with bridal invitations, I will take up my magic wand, put on my etiquette tiara and bestow some wisdom on engaged couples.

"Why do I have to have printed invitations?  Why can't I do them on my computer - people just throw them away anyway.  Besides,  an e-invite is greener and we really believe in that."

If you are sending invitations to people who are immediately throwing them in the trash you should probably not have invited them to your wedding in the first place, just sayin'.  Also - can you use that same argument about what to feed them?  After all, they are just going to poop it away the next day, so why spend the money on something delicious? Email invitations are lovely - if your guests like helping out Nigerian millionaires or need to buy prescriptions drugs in Mexico, because an emailed wedding invitation should go right in to the spam file.

We have been together for a long time and we just want money for wedding gifts.  How do we put that on the invitation, or let people know?

Send them an invoice.

My mom and my future mother-in-law don't want to wear (insert color here) for the wedding.  I have tried to tell them how important this is, but they say  they look terrible in that color and want to choose their dresses themselves. It's MY wedding and they should wear what I want them to wear, right?

No.   Google the earthquake in Japan, look at some pictures of starving children, check out the situation in Darfur. Those are real problems. These are grown women who are perfectly capable of dressing themselves and have done it for years. Shut up already.

Some of my bridesmaids need to lose some weight - and one of them has a bad dye job.  What is the best way to tell them what I need them to do to get ready for my wedding?

Tell them whatever you like, but follow it up with, "And I promise to get my tubes tied and never reproduce."  Knowing that the BS will die with you will help them grit their teeth and push through the day.

Do I have to write thank you notes?  I am very busy and my boyfriend absolutely refuses to help!

No, you do not have to write thank-you notes. Seriously.  Just return all the gifts. Problem solved!

Okay, but I want the gifts.  How about those pre-printed notes that say something lovely like, "Thank you for sharing our special day - Love  X and X " ?

Nice. Really? Nothing says "screw you" like a form letter. 

We want to have a really lovely dinner for our reception and we're a little nervous that people won't know how much to give to make sure the cost is covered. 

Okay, once again - send them an invoice.  Better yet,  contemplate the proper definition of "guest" and realize the dinner is your gift to them.  While I have your attention, whatever they choose to give you is their gift to you.  You will receive some lovely things, some not-so-lovely things.  The mark of maturity and true love is to acknowledge them with equal enthusiasm and grace.

Okay, that's enough for today.  I am fatigued by answering questions that have no place in civilized society.  Let's all work together to return to the days when weddings were a joyful occasion for everyone involved, m'kay?  Next time we'll talk about leaving your guests waiting for 3 hours while you go take your stupid pictures and show up at the reception half in the tank.

I Need A Genie

When I was a kid I loved watching I Dream of Jeannie  because I thought it would be so COOL to be able to BLINK BLINK and the housework would be done, BLINK BLINK and the laundry, cooking, etc. would all be finished in a flash.  Even then I knew that Jeannie was a dumb broad if she thought the way to Major Nelson's heart was doing the vacuuming and cooking all by herself.  Everyone knows the  real way to a man's heart, and it is NOT by being an immaculate housekeeper, just sayin'.

Instead of enjoying my new fabrics and my Alabama Beauty  INKLINGO patterns  I have spent the last week-plus  cleaning my BUNS off.  I've thrown out, de-cluttered, smuggled bags out of the house for Goodwill (my husband still has his original diapers....) and spent today balancing on a chair cutting the trim in and around the bathroom cabinets, mirror, tub and closet.  There must be 9 miles of trim in that bathroom. Normally I love to paint, but my husband got a hold of my (yes, MY) cutting brushes and wrecked my favorite one, leaving me with a sub-standard brush to cut 9 miles of trim (French Linen Gray, BTW) in this bathroom. (Note: If anyone from Pittsburgh Paints is reading this, you guys have GOT to get your act together.  This stuff is not covering well and frankly, it's a little drippy.  I used to love you guys but I have 3 rooms that need paint and this is the last gallon of P.P. that is going up in my house for a long time.)

I guess this would all be okay if MY relatives  were coming to visit ( hell, I'd make them paint ) but it is HIS cousins.  We haven't seen these people since our wedding almost 23 years ago so I'm not sure what we will be talking about, but there you go. They are coming for a 4 day festival that I avoid like the plague.  St. Peter's Fiesta used to be a lovely novena-based celebration of faith that culminated in the blessing of the fishing fleet and some fiercely good Sicilian cooking.  It has degenerated into a 5 day drunk complete with a sleazy carnival and a baby boom 9 months from now when all the babies will be named "Peter".  It saddens me to see something that was once so beautiful become such a nightmare.  Note to Gloucester Italians:  "Fiesta" is not even a word not found in your language. Be authentic - your grandparents and great-grandparents had the right idea.

I need to get back to cleaning.  Sometimes you just need impending house guests  to light a fire underneath your slovenly self and git 'er done.  Joe will be handling the cleaning of all the floors, including the Chernobyl-like kitchen floor that is original to the 1975 house.  An uglier floor never lived.  These folks are arriving on Thursday and leaving on Monday morning.  I'm following them out the driveway and heading downtown to the flooring store where I will put a blindfold over my eyes, swing a cat and whatever it lands on is the new kitchen floor.   BLINK BLINK.  I'm on a roll.

Inklingo Good, Verizon Bad

I spent most of yesterday  beating the hell out of my Verizon modem (vintage 2006) trying to maintain an internet connection at home - to no avail.  Three phone calls and numerous gymnastics later I threw in the towel and  vowed online revenge at the store today (where I have a working internet connection).  Verizon offered me a new modem for $14.95 but  since I'm paying about $79 a month for long distance and not-working  internet I told them I wasn't interested in paying for ANYTHING else.  After yet another Verizon tech support FAIL  I called back and that same modem was now $69.95, but I "qualified" for a monthly rate reduction, getting the same services for $45.00 a month.  Seriously Verizon?  Don't you at least want to take me out to dinner first?

Back to last night - I gave up with Verizon and resumed some serious de-junking of my house.  We have house guests in 2 weeks and since we have not had anyone for about 5 years.....a lot of JUNK has accumulated in the guest room and elsewhere.  We are blessed and cursed with a large house - 4 bedrooms, 3 1/2 baths, 2 floors, full basement.  WAY.TOO. MUCH. ROOM. FOR. JUNK.   And since I am married to the man who inspired the TV show Hoarders, it piles up like crazy. I have made more trips to Goodwill than I can tell you about (and more than my husband knows about....) and I'm not done yet.  The actual cleaning is still ahead of me, oy you could vanish in some of the dust.  Wish me luck.

The UP SIDE is that I actually WON SOMETHING!  I never win anything.   I have craved and coveted this Alabama Beauty block (I poached this one from a wonderful blog called Postcards From Panama).  Aren't the colors fabulous? The first time I saw it was on the Quilt Obsession blog by Cathi.  She uses Inklingo, and I always assumed it was some kind of computer program.  Cathi just owns piecing, she makes the most beautiful things and is extremely productive in her output.  I marveled at how she did all this  so I  checked out Inklingo for myself.  You won't believe this -  it's PDF files!  No software to buy! You need an inkjet printer and some freezer paper (butcher paper, where I come from) and the pattern PFD files.   It takes a little reading to wrap your head around the concept, but once it clicks in it all makes sense.

So I send huge blog love to  Cathi  and encourage you to do yourself a favor and take a few minutes to check out  Inklingo.   Poke around and download the freebies.  I won a gift certificate from Cathi's blog so I went ahead and got the pattern for the Alabama Beauty block. ( I  have loved it so long that it was a no brainer, although there are many patterns to choose from. )  I'm not being paid or persuaded in any way to promote this,  I just found something I really loved and BONUS - it will make my quilt piecing easier and more spectacular.  So what's not to love?  Verizon,  THAT is what's not to love.  I'm an Irishman married to a Sicilian for 22 years,  I can "do" vendetta with the best of 'em.  Vendetta and Verizon - they just go together. Stay tuned.

My Britney Spears Moment

OOOPS, I did it again, this time the index finger.  I can't type - this is taking forever. Bonus - I probably no longer have fingerprints on 2 fingers, so I can go on a wild crime spree. The worst part of this?  I bought a rotary cutter cutting glove after the first injury.  Turns out they don't work if you are not wearing them.

I had to put the splint on it because the slightest tap makes it bleed profusely - and hurts like )(*&)(*^&^.  My self-guided anger management program  is not going well and I don't need any new opportunities to swear. I live in the Bermuda Triangle of psycho drivers (AKA Massachusetts) and since I spend a lot of time on the road I have to watch myself.  I started out by saying, "Peace be with you" out loud when some nimrod cut me off or climbed up my tailpipe, but I am finding it has degenerated into something like, "Oh yeah, well, peace on you!" more often than not.

I will spend my time at the store today playing around with the blog layout.  I can do that with my right hand and a mouse.

EDIT - in the spirit of full disclosure, I have a dear friend who (when studying in Rome) always signed his letters with, "Easter (or whatever holiday) Peace on You!"   When I feel I cannot spit out "Peace be with you" I always go for Jake's version!

Saddle Sores

Yesterday was my first day back in the saddle (for reals) with my Bernina.  After about $400 worth of cleaning, a motherboard re-build and repairs (and messing around with a few small projects) I strapped on my courage and took out a languishing UFO that needs to be finished because it is a long overdue gift.

The first couple of hours went well - amazingly well.  I was sailing right along,   the machine was making all the right sounds.  Life was good.  I love that machine,   I love sewing,  it was all good.

This is such a large quilt  I had to spread the blocks out on my king-size bed. I did about 3 miles of walking,  looping the long hallway between my bedroom  and the sewing room.  On one trip  I placed some connected blocks next to the long row they would be attached to and realized - I goofed.    Not a little "opps" goof,   but an EPIC FAIL GOOF.   A sit-down-on-the-bed-and swear goof. To make matters worse,   I did some periodic reverse stitching  to strengthen a few places where the seam allowance wasn't quite (ahem)  1/4 inch.  As I looked even closer,  I saw a single row of half square triangles on one block that was....going the wrong way. Four little half square triangles.....would anyone notice? I did, and my mother's voice in my head did, too.

Long story short,   I spent most of the rest of the day parked in my favorite chair with a seam ripper.   I put a movie in the VCR - ironically, The Agony and the Ecstasy.  It seemed appropriate for the task and besides -   I loves me some campy Charlton Heston movies.  I managed to separate the scofflaws but had to sacrifice two entire  blocks as the surgical separation necessitated some fabric amputation.  It pained me deeply.   I will push on and finish this thing but the next time I even THINK about doing a Lady of the Lake quilt I want someone out there to beat me about the head and shoulders with a blunt instrument.   This quilt will never lie flat or square up well.   I don't think even Charlton Heston as Moses  (another fav campy flick) could pull something that biblically epic out his hat.

Happily Ever After

I really love it when serendipity happens.

Recently, a very loving and thoughtful man  from Gloucester brought some of his wife's quilting things to the museum to be donated for whatever purpose they could serve. Wilbur loved June very much - as shown here in her brief but perfect obituary:

Born in Beverly, she was the daughter of the late ........ June and Wilbur had a beautiful wedding and returned to the house that was to be their home for the next 53 years. And just like the children's story, they lived happily ever after.

Among the lovely items was a pair of quilt frames, one style of which I did not know existed but was always the quilt frame of my dreams.  I have always loved feather quilting motifs but have never been able to master the technique. My mom always told me I needed to learn to hand quilt in all directions, toward me, away from me, at angles - and I always resisted.  I'm a two-directional hand quilter at best and was pretty much resigned to the fact that I would never conquer feathers.  Enter my new quilt frame:



We had the donated frames for sale in the museum shop for a few days before I took the plunge.  (The other frame sold in the same day!)   I am so glad I made the purchase  as this is the most miraculous thing ever.  The engineering behind it is remarkable - even my husband was impressed.  The quilt hoop is on a gimble, so you can whip it around - much like you handle the steering wheel in a car.  This makes sewing curves (aka the curves found in feathers) so much more manageable.   Big bonus - the whole thing kind of collapses on itself so I can slide it under my chair and it takes up (practically) no space.   I can't tell you how much I love getting back to hand quilting - it never fails to calm my spirit and soothe my heart.

I am so thankful Wilbur decided to donate June's lovely things that  I  sent him a little thank you note.  I'm even happier I could bring one of them back to Gloucester.  I think of them both every time I sit down to sew, and marvel at the great love I have seen, known and witnessed in my life.

I Think I .....Can't

It has been three weeks since the loss of my Dad and while the initial numbness is easing, the hard parts are not.

When in the thick of a crisis  I tend to say to myself,  "If I can just get through X, I'll be fine."  X being a tough day, a week, an event.   I have a way of breaking things up in to manageable mental bits so I don't go completely postal and/or collapse.   "If I can get on the plane and get home to my family, I'll be OK.  If I can get through the wake and visitation, I'll be fine.  That's the hard part.  No, wait. If  I can get through the funeral....the burial....the exhausting plane trip back to Gloucester....." .  I just keep making those little goals because the big one is too much to comprehend or manage. Like the little train, I keep chugging along with "I think I can... I think I can..."  but seriously,  right now, I think I can't.

I forgot about the next part.

The aftermath, the physical exhaustion, the mental grief.  Yesterday was a good example.  I am working on a grant for the local library and spent most of the day on my 7-year-old computer (AKA the *#&$^%  boat anchor) trying to wrestle down documents and cope with incompatibilities in software.  I thought I would take a break and sync up my iPad and iPod touch so I can have some commute-worthy books to listen to on the road.

As I watched one device sync I noticed a lot of songs I didn't recall buying.  HYMNS, for heaven's sake.  "King of the Road" by Roger Miller!  Then it dawned on me - I downloaded those on wi-fi at the hospital so Dad could listen to some familiar music.  Dad  loved him some Roger Miller.  I don't even know if he could hear them, but I played them for him.

Then I got an email from my brother with a copy of the death certificate. (I'm going to release the (Sicilian) hounds -  my husband -  on American Airlines for being so heartless.)  When another brother requested the family address book, I (as the keeper of the family minutia,  ephemera, and other stuff) popped open my spreadsheet and saw the list  of addresses and phone numbers.... including the ones for Dad.  Hard to look at that. I  deleted those  before I sent it along, but when I popped open the browser to get back to my email I saw the bookmark for his Caring Bridge website where we kept far-flung relatives aware of his status.  Another thing to delete.  A thousand little things that appear and sting and compound the loss. Even hearing the TV  commercial about "setting up financial arrangements before a loved one goes in to a nursing home" sent me on a brief ,  "I wonder if  Gary got the billing sorted out before Dad moves to.....oh."   A thousand little things.

Mothers Day is thankfully past, but made even  more difficult this year by falling on my Dad's birthday.  Really, world?  Seriously?  Not enough stress for one day?  Then a sister wisely pointed out that we gave them both the gift they have surely wanted for almost ten years - we gave them back each other.  (Can I get a "thank God for sisters" from the choir?)

It helped.  But it is the thousand little things that  rain like  fine, thin shards of glass and fall  without warning  on your head and your heart.  I know it will let up,  I know it will get better.  I went through this when we lost Mom, but I really did forget (or blocked out) this part, and I can't break it up into manageable bits because that is not how it works.  I push through each day. I crave sleep.  I turn on my sound machine app to a quiet rainstorm to drown out the noise of traffic and motorcycles.  I want it to be quiet. I want peace. I want to stop crying at unexpected moments and inappropriate places. I want the roller coaster ride to level off.

I do not want to do this part but I do not  have a choice. Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted.   Maybe someday, but I'm not feeling it now. I'm just sayin'.

Mother's Day 101

With the Mother's Day holiday approaching,  I'm going to indulge myself with a brief  rant that I hope will 1) enlighten and 2) stop y'all from doing something incredibly  stupid and/or painful.

Not all women are mothers.

Got that?  Okay, let's continue.  Some are childless by choice, others are not, and the ones that are not experience a sort of Mother's Day Trauma every year at this time.  How do I know this?  I am one of them.  Long story, personal story.

On behalf of myself and other not-mothers, I offer the following guidance:

1.  Do not wish a woman - any woman - a HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY unless you know for a FACT that they are, indeed, a mother.  If you all would just follow that simple rule there would be no need for other rules.

2.  Do not ask them why (or if).  It's none of your business.

3.  Do not say, "Well, you have a dog/cat, so that makes you a mommy of a 4-legged child!"   I have been told that many times, honest - you can't make that shit up.  Even when Rusty was alive, I wasn't his freakin' mother. Besides, my dog is dead so shut up.

4.  Do not say, "Well..... you HAVE  a mother, right? So Happy Mother's Day!"    My mother is no longer on this earth either, so double shut up.

There.  If you will all just follow rule #1 and go on with your lives all will be well.

Please don't make me repeat this for Father's Day.

Let's end on a positive note.  I am a godmother / auntie, and it is one of THEE greatest joys in my life.  This year we are celebrating the graduation of my twin nieces.  They had a very traumatic arrival into this world and the prognosis for one of them was  utterly devastating.   She proved them all wrong -  and I'll let you guess which one she is in their graduation announcement below. (Hint:  V is for Victory!)  PS - both of them can spike a volleyball in to your colon......

When I saw this I laughed.....then I cried.... then I rejoiced.  Life is good.