Rebooting My Life

Okay, I'm still messing around with the look of my blog. This indicates...well, you already know.

My life is rebooting.  I didn't push the button or anything, it's just rebooting. Mega heavy conference with my orthopedic/pain doc yesterday (AKA Dr. NomNom because he is HOT!) has left me with a fist full of new prescriptions and the realization that I am not ever going to be as carefree-mobile as I was ever again.  The surgical options were rejected by both of us, him because they are rarely successful and me because I'm DONE with surgery.  (If they gave out frequent surgery miles  I'd be traveling non-stop.)  It's simply degenerative.  There are no do-overs or rewinds or magic cures. Phrases like "managing the pain" and "experimenting with different drugs" are written - with ink - in my file.

So where do I go from here?  What do I do? I need a job.  I can't commute very far, it's physically impossible and consequently rules out a shot at the better paying and more interesting jobs.  I know what I want to do.  I want to do what I've wanted to do all my life. I want to sew. I want to make quilts. I want to make quilts, totes, bags, my funky necklaces (like these), custom quilts for babies, weddings, anniversaries, birthdays.  I want a room in my house where I can walk in every day and be happy that I am there and do what I love.  I have the room. I have the equipment. I have a good stash.  That part is done. I have my husband's shop to sell in, as well as being ready (and able) to set up and market an on-line shop. I even have all the wholesale paperwork and permits because we have them through Joe's store.

I have no idea how to do the rest.

Venture capital would be necessary - the bills still need to be paid while all of this is being sorted out.  I can't see mailing Verizon a nice wall hanging and saying, "Here, this is for July, August and September, I'm trying to get my business up and running, m'kay?"  Frankly no bank around here is going to invest in a home business making "those blanket things" as the Illuminati tend to call quilts.

I'm not getting any younger. In fact, in about 3 weeks I'll be getting another year older. If not now, when do I do this?  I've had it in the back of my mind for ages and ages.  I always thought, "Someday I'll be able to do what I really love."  I have fewer days in front of me than I do behind me. This is probably my last chance to do this. I'm terrified. I'm not sure how to make this happen but I want to close my eyes and jump. No regrets.  I never want to look back at this time and think, "I should have done it then."

So what do I do?  How do I make this happen?   Anyone?  Esty and Twitter peeps who have done this - how did you get started?

Getting "IT"

It's never a good sign when I'm playing around with the look of my blog. It is an indicator of  one of two things: brain freeze ( I got nuthin')  or time-out (when I'm stressed, heat stressed, anxiety stressed, etc. and anything I put on the internet would be of the shock and awe variety, and not the "good" shock and awe, either. ) So there you go.  I'm playing with the look of my blog.  (Okay, I'm in time-out.)

In the meantime I have an amazing labor of love to occupy my hands.  A very good friend has one of the wall hangings made by my mother. We used to sell them in our store here in Gloucester and then mail a check back to her where she would cash it in and buy more quilting fabric.  (Mom kicked ass that way.)     Linn  has had this beauty hanging in her home for many years and recently asked me to take it home and give it a wash - she was nervous about doing it herself.  Okey dokey.  Washed. Line dried in the approaching scorching heat.  When I took it down I noticed that the sleeve on the back of the hanging had some places where the threads had just let go.  Age happens.  I found a spool of black thread and a sharp needle and I'm redoing the entire sleeve.  It is a miracle that I'm able to do it without clutching it to my chest, crying, and refusing to let it go.  (Eleven years later I think I'm finally making progress with my  grief.)  I'm actually enjoying the process, loving the chance to work on something my mom made, and grateful for the fact that Linn GETS IT.

There are not a lot of people out there who "get it" when it comes to quilts or, for that matter, anything hand crafted.  Paintings in galleries are found "worthy" but quilts, knit socks, hats or scarves are just KRAFTY with a K and not "worthy" of being looked at as serious creative expressions that require time and talent.  It has been an uphill battle for years.  To show my serious intent I was going to start a quilt guild here in Gloucester and call it "Quilt Bitches" and we'd all get Harley-Davidson tattoos (but the motorcycle would have a quilted seat.)  Cool, right? 'Cept I'd never get a tattoo.

A quilter's quest for street cred is apparently a life-long venture.  This is made more difficult by The Learning Channel's newest program, Craft Wars, hosted by..... TORI SPELLING.  Seriously, TLC?  I personally believe the only time she's had a hot glue gun in her hand was when she was replacing some hair extensions that had fallen out. A Twitter peep of mine remarked that  while she did watch the debut show,  she found "Tori's  clown-like makeup distracting."  TLC needs to learn (oohh, how ironic...) that credibility is an important part of attracting an intelligent and respectful audience who - when given intelligent content from creditable sources - have a way of going out and spending money with the show's sponsors to recreate those ideas in their own home.  It's a concept.

Time to get back to sewing the sleeve on this wall hanging.  Linn was skittish about  washing it herself because she wanted to make sure it was done carefully and properly because she loves this thing as much as I do.  She respects the time, effort, labor and creativity that went in to producing it. She gets it.

The Tao of Ed and Quilter Manure

[caption id="attachment_2571" align="alignleft" width="266"] Ed[/caption]

This is Ed.  He is the new sock monkey I purchased at a serendipitous stop at a church rummage sale.

On Saturday I drove up to Lowell, Massachusetts,  to visit my career alma mater the The New England Quilt Museum.  It was with mixed emotions - I miss the place terribly but the looong commute, the price of gas and the combined toll it took on my body and pocketbook made the decision for me.  As I pulled off  I-93 and began the storybook-beautiful drive down Rte. 133 I remembered Saturday mornings were prime-time for yard sales all along the route but I could never stop and poke around (as I would be late for work) so for five long years I resisted the temptation.

HAH.

That was all behind me as I cruised along and spied a lovely church lawn cluttered with tables and merchandise and  people swarming about.  The first table I walked up to was managed by a quilter who was selling off her book collection and had some fantastic books all selling for a mere $5 a pop.  I love it when karma happens.  I managed to restrict myself to an armful and wandered to the next table where I found ED.  Ed had to come home with me. I've wanted a sock monkey doll fah-evah (local Gloucester dialect) and he was adorable.  I didn't name him, he just told me his name when I tucked him in to the passenger seat among my new/old books.  It happens that way with me, I swear.

Ed and I continued on to the museum for a wonderful reunion with co-workers and quilts. I was completely blown away by the Fenway Park Centennial show - Rosemary Baun is a tremendously talented quilter. Even if you're not a die-hard Red Sox fan (and I'm not)  it was well worth a visit.  The imagination and creativity were rockin'!  The quilts up in the permanent collection room(s) were breathtaking.  It was all good.  What made it better was the special program presented by Shelly Zegart who created and produced the DVD documentary Why Quilts Matter - History, Art and Politics .  I've been a big fan and supporter of this important and alternately hysterically funny and sobering work for ages and it pleased me no end to see a room full of people  become enlightened and engaged too. Bonus - I finally got to meet Shelly and she is a peach, as was her husband, sister and brother-in-law. (Apparently they have a family requirement to be bright, intelligent and maintain a rippin' sense of humor.) I'm sure their website was inundated with people wanting to watch segments online and learn more about the program.  Guild reps in attendance perked right up when, after seeing segment samples, they realized the programing value inherent in the production. A win-win and bang for the buck. What's not to love?

On the drive home Ed and I talked about the responsibility quilters have to support each other in their work.  It applies to supporting any of the arts - it doesn't just fall out of the sky, people. The expression, "Money is like manure -  if you leave it in a pile it rots, you have to spread it around to do any good" has been attributed to many people but it doesn't lessen the truth or importance of the statement. We all want the quilting culture  and industry to thrive.  Ed says that while few of us have Medici money to be patrons we can buy a ticket or a book, throw a few bucks into a membership (even if it is far away and we can't visit often), support research and programing and - GET  A LOAD OF THIS - benefit ourselves from what we have fertilized.  Sometimes this means paying a few dollars more for a book or a pattern than we would if we could find it for on, say, Amazon.  To be truthful, Amazon doesn't need my money and doesn't support my community. Besides, after they tack on inflated shipping and "handling" fees the difference really. isn't. that. much.   I'd rather buy it directly from the quilter, the author, the designer - you get my drift.  The quilting industry is a THREE AND A HALF BILLION DOLLAR A YEAR BUSINESS.  That is not a typo.  Ladies and gentlemen of quilt nation that is a LOT of manure.  Look at where you spread it very carefully.  Pay attention to where leave it.  Spread it in worthy places but most important of all: SPREAD IT.  I guarantee by doing so not only the scholarship, books, patterns, fabric and RESPECT for your most beloved art will bloom and grow and thrive, but YOU will bloom and grow and thrive as a  quilter, quilt artist, historian, academic.....

Why Quilts Matter DVD Give-Away

 

EDIT:  Carla Langendoen of Cora Quilts was the DVD winner. Hope to see you blog your thoughts about the series, Cora!

 

When working at the New England Quilt Museum I was fortunate enough to get a peek at a DVD called Why Quilts Matter: History, Art and Politics from Shelly Zegart and the Kentucky Quilt Project, Inc.  I loved it.  I talked to the TV while I watched it. I wrote a blog entry about it and was later asked to write a guest blog for their website.  Before any of that happened I purchased two copies of the DVD so I could own one and donate the other to my local library. I feel that strongly about it, and  continue to encourage others to do the same. (BTW, there is no monetary compensation involved here)

A few weeks ago I was contacted by the Why Quilts Matter people (who are kickass fun, BTW) and asked to view one section of the documentary and write some study-group type questions for a new Continuing the Conversation guide to the series. I was delighted to do so, and was sent a copy of the DVD as a "thank you" gift.  Since I already have a copy I decided to give away the gift copy.  I really don't like the whole blog "give-away" thing, mostly because I never win and  really think some of you guys are all up in your head when you require people to jump through hoops and do 94 things in order to qualify.  There, I said it.  THIS will be a very simple, straightforward give-away.

To enter:   Send me a fat quarter of Liberty of London fabric.

HAH! See what I did there?  Okay, seriously, go check out their website - you are on your honor. Then, leave a comment with your fantasy quilting or sewing notion.  For example: my fantasy sewing notion is a bobbin that works with a spool of thread. You throw a spool on top of the machine, snap a spool in the bobbin case and you sew like a maniac for days - no stopping to reload the )(#&*()@#&$ bobbin.  What is your fantasy notion? Maybe some genius out there will create it and we'll all be happy.

In about a week I'll holler downstairs (to my husband), "Pick a number between 1 and ----" and that will be the winner. (I'll have to do it a couple of times because he is deaf as a haddock and I have to repeat everything about three times.) Sigh.

Okay, let's have it - what are your brilliant ideas?  PS - the DVD is great for individuals or guilds or groups - lots of topics and good information. (But you knew that from going to their website, right?)

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.

Quilting's Not-So-Civil War

With the approaching anniversary,  Civil War quilts and reproductions are all the rage.  Kind of ironic that a not-so-Civil-War appears to be raging among quilters.   I  am not surprised by it - I have found many  quilters to be either the best or worst of people.  Yeah,   I said it.  I went there.   I will confess to being a former quilt snob but never a QB (Quilt Bitch).

Quilt Bitch - (noun). \ˈkwil-t\ \ˈbich\.  1) A person convinced of their self-superior knowledge of quilting.  2) An omnipotent judge of everyone else's inferior quilting taste, techniques, color and fabric. 3) A snarky, self-absorbed person who is compelled to "grade the paper" of everyone else's work with  LOUD and unsolicited criticism. 4) A person who believes in the paramount value and superiority of everything they themselves create.

QB's.  We all know one, and if we're honest - we'd admit to knowing several.  They are out there, those trolls who seek to suck the inherent joy and satisfaction that quilting brings to all who undertake it with open hearts. The latest salvo in the quilting wars has caused quite a stir. Apparently, there is someone out there proclaiming that contemporary quilts aren't "hard" or "complicated" enough to qualify as "real" quilts.  (I won't give the blowhard/nimrod  blog space, just Google it if you want to know more.)

My question - why do people need to do this? Why are they so driven to pass judgment?  I haven't a clue why anyone would want to make a Sunbonnet Sue quilt (and I mourn the waste of good fabric) but hell, if it floats your boat go nuts.  Sometimes I look at quilts I have made in years past and wonder what the hell I was thinking. I confess I used to look on anything that wasn't made of traditional or historic reproduction fabrics as "meh" but I never once dissed them.  I just did not understand them.  Thankfully that has changed and now I'm open to just about anything. I may not like it but I can always learn something from looking at it and reading about what the quilter had in mind.

So how to deal with QB's?  I offer the following:

1. Refer them to the SMUG ALERT episode of South Park.  (hysterical, wicked pissah funny)


2. Avoid them.  You can never "hug it out" with a QB. Don't feed the trolls.


3. Stare at them.  Don't say a word.  Just stare at them. Silence best conveys your opinion of theirs.


4. If you are one or see yourself in the definition above, knock it the hell off.

It is difficult to get props for being a quilter - there are enough people out there who think we are all  grannys in long dresses and white lacy caps and have no teeth.  Those who attack from within our ranks are a cancer and need to be starved of attention so they will shrivel and fade away.

Think a QB is harsh? Meh.  When I hear one of them crush the fledgling spirit of a new quilter I can't find my purse-sized  photon torpedo launcher fast enough.  If  you QB's want a war, you have one.  And it won't be civil.

Workshop Phobic

Well, tomorrow is the big day.

I'm leaving for a weekend workshop in New Hampshire where I am going to attempt something I have never done before.  I have never participated in any kind of "artsy" workshop.  I took a one day class in calligraphy about 15 years ago, and that was it.  Whassup with that, you ask?  Plenty.

I had the misfortune of being one year younger than my sister who actually did have some artistic talent.  I marched through junior high and high school art classes one year behind the "talented sister."   Every year  I was greeted with the same thing:  "Oh, are you Pat's sister?  Are you as talented as she is?"  And every year the teacher(s) found out the answer was "NO,"  not even close.  It's hard to shake that off.  (If you are reading this, Pat - I don't hold you responsible, but would it kill you to dust off that Bernina and get back to creating?)

At the tender age of 16 I spent a year in a walking body cast.  Consequently I am terribly self conscious and building self-esteem was not a big part of my parent's agenda.  I got through life by staying under the radar and keeping the peace.  Can you tell I am a middle child?  Once, in a grade school 4H project, I had to cover a box with contact paper.  I would have had an easier time constructing a cold fusion machine.  My mother, completely exasperated, gave up on me and let me finish the damn thing myself.  It looked horrible.  To compound my shame, I got a white ribbon on it and it was displayed at the county fair for all  to see.  There is no shame like the shame of a 4H white ribbon.  It kneecapped me.

So what is the workshop?  We are going to paint on paper, cover, then embellish, a box.  I kid you not.  I can't believe I am doing this.  So what has changed?  Not much,  other than there is a little voice inside me now that says, "why the hell not?"  I have mercifully matured to the age where I don't really care what other people think.  I  really don't need the  affirmation of strangers.  I may make a total mess of this project but it is something I want to try.  I'm happy to have reached this point in my life.  If I'd had this awareness in my 20's I'd be running Apple by now.

Of course it helps that I'm taking this with a friend who, like myself, shoots from the hip and appreciates strong adult beverages.  We're staying at her sister's house so it should be a remarkably comfortable and relaxing get-away.  What's not to love?  I will even promise to post a picture of the result, even if it does belong in my "white ribbon" gallery.  Life is short.  Let's all get out of our comfort zone and see what happens.

Ornament Rain Man

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Just about everyone who really knows me has, at some point in time,  looked me square in the eye and said,  "Your head is filled with useless information."   I am actually ok with that.  I have a memory for minutia and it pops up at the most amazing times.  It serves me well - many of my passwords incorporate old phone numbers or zip codes or even the dates of various - well,  never mind.   On the down side, I  remember (usually verbatim)  hurtful things said or done or overheard.  (Sometime I'll tell you the story about my kindergarten teacher correcting me on a sentence.  Seriously.)  On the upside,  I can also remember things that happened long ago but made me  feel creative and clever.  Here is one of my favorites.

In between hot flashes  I have tried to think about  snow and Christmas and maybe  making something new with which to deck my halls when I remembered something Mom played with years and years ago.  She taught us how to make these weird ornaments from scraps.  The ones we made back then were done with bits of reds and greens and Christmas-y prints.  I had the necessary materials already in-house, so there was no fussing.  I did not want to make actual tree ornaments  (I haven't got much in the way of scraps of  Christmas fabric) so I did one with some batik scraps.  It was  kind of nice to look at,  so   I selected some of my precious scraps of Japanese fabric  to play around with and see what I could create.  It finished up well  but I had  a *$#&$%  of a time with those beautiful fabrics that unravel if you so much as LOOK at them.

By this time I was pretty much satisfied that I remembered how to make them (there are a few tricks) but at a bit of a loss to know what to do with them.  For now they are just going to sit on a shelf in my sewing room.   The best part of the project was thinking back on  making them with Mom.  I miss her so much.  I guess we never think that what we do  now could be remembered years later with so much love.

Sometimes it's good to be a Rain Man.

What Makes a Woobie?

Everyone needs a woobie. Your woobie can be a doll, a toy,  or even a special old sweatshirt, but more often than not your woobie is a quilt. One of the great things about being a quilter is being plugged in to groups who specialize in woobies.  Check these out:

• Project Linus -  the ultimate in security blankets


• Quilts of Valor - no better way to say thank you to returning wounded veterans.  It's not about politics - it's about people.


• Operation Pillowcase - for the troops overseas, a little comfort all their own.  Many local groups with similar names operate the same way - Google one up near you.


• End of life quilts, hospice quilts, quilts for babies in neonatal units - there are groups everywhere creating gifts of loving comfort. You need not make an entire quilt - you can make a quilt top and send it to a volunteer who does longarm quilting, or vice versa.  There are entire systems in place to make it happen.

My woobie for over the past decade has been one of my Mom's quilts - one she called "Green Propellers." I found the pattern and sent it to her, bought her the book in fact (HINT HINT HINT Mom) and she did it up in cream and greens.  Really beautiful, but she always thought it looked like airplane propellers, hence the name.  When at last she gave each of her 6 children the Christmas gift of selecting one of her quilts, I dove for the Green Propellers.   (I wanted the  "Blues in the Night" quilt but that one was not on the offering list. Seriously. More on that later. )

After we lost Mom to cancer I  spent a LOT of time under that woobie, wrapping up in her love, in something she touched and handled,   hoping to absorb some bit of her into my soul and ease the grief.   As the years have passed   I still climb under that quilt when I am  missing her, or when  I'm sick, feeling stressed out, or just need a protective barrier to shut out the world for a while.     Tracing my finger along the seams, the squares and the lines of  her hand quilting is a zen-like experience that enriches my spirit and channels her love.  (Love never dies, you know, it simply changes and takes on the most amazing forms.)  Woobie quilts have that crinkly, wrinkly softness that soothes your body and soul.  They can cushion  you against whatever the world can throw at you.  Pull someone you love beneath that woobie with you and the whole world will look even better after a bit.

Not all quilts are woobies, but each quilt has woobie potential. I try to remember that when I am working on a quilt,  that everything I cut, sew, touch, fold and stitch should be done so with tenderness.   I would love to think that at least some of my quilts will find their way into their recipient's heart and become their woobie someday.

See?  That's what I mean about different kinds of love taking on the most amazing forms....

Stay On Task!

So you already know about Mom's UFO (the one I stippled yesterday!), and you know about my homage to Yoko Saito UFO (still playing with it, but at least I have it pin basted) - so what am I working on?  A tote bag.  The picture washes out the lovely purple-ish of the fabrics, but both have a deep lavender tone.  One fabric is from Africa, one is from Japan.  This is going to be my stylish international tote bag and I am going to do it today.  I can't stay on task.   Whatever. Call the quilt police - I'm going to enjoy my Patriot's Day holiday and that is what counts!

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