Step Away from Those Machines!

I am in a strange universe these days, a little narc'd up and not quite sure of what is safe to do. Escalating spinal pain (building-the-pyramids-long-story) has kept me from my sewing machine, my computer (except now) and anything else that requires a reasonably sound mind and sober judgement. Pain meds are a godsend, but lousy for productivity.  A delayed procedure (hey, even doctors go on vacation) finally took place two days ago so I'm hobbling around trying to stay out of trouble.  Case in point - yesterday I was sitting at my computer trying to read email and send some work-related info when I started telling my computer to copy and paste. Oh I was doing it with my mouse, but speaking it out loud as if that was the way it actually got done. When I realized what I was doing I just shut down the computer and walked away.  To my sewing room. Thankfully, when I realized that picking up a razor-sharp rotary cutter and/or sewing anything together would have equally bad results, I went further down the hall to my bedroom and just listened to books on tape. Whew.
 Today I decided I would just tidy up my sewing room, a low-impact activity that seems safe, right?  But here's the thing about drugs -  when taking them, you do not have an accurate reading on how you are feeling or functioning. (Or if you are functioning accurately!) Frankly, I shouldn't even be writing this blog right now, I might say something incredibly stupid like "opiates are a gift" when in fact...... they are a godsend. Mr. Mackey would disagree - I keep hearing his voice in my head when my timer beeps to remind me of the next dose. I'm doing well and was told this post-procedure pain will resolve itself within seven days. Seriously?  Seriously.  Thank heavens I have the best husband/sherpa/humorist on the planet, and Mr. Mackey to guide me:

I Did It. My Way.

We've already established that reading pattern directions is my kryptonite. Even when I was making dresses and blouses for Home Ec I needed help translating arrows and darts. The fact that my mother was a pretty accomplished "sewist" didn't help matters because she was left-handed and (to me) did everything upside down and backwards.

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I wanted a purse made from my treasured stash of Japanese fabrics.  I knew how I wanted it to look, and I knew I had all the hardware and fabric and fusible fleece to do it.  I even had the right size hexagons to paper piece the top part so I dove right in and then spent an inordinate amount of time ripping it apart.  Ironically - I understand purse construction SO much better that now I might actually be able to tackle reading a pattern!

When I made this I tended to put pieces together and then say, "Hmm, I should have put those snaps in before I joined the 2 pieces together."  I honestly think I made a purse upside down and backwards.  While I don't think Mom would be proud,  it is finished.  I might need to remake one of the snap-in inserts, I got so caught up in stippling that the finished insert might be too heavy for the purse.  I was always so afraid to stipple but I'm finding it can be very Zen-like.  (It's also quite a workout for your upper arms, let me tell you!)  I have no explanation for my obsession with pockets other than to admit I have a fantasy of presiding over a completely organized purse. I bought a special zipper for the topmost closure - just in case those pockets get overstuffed and unseemly, I can zip the whole thing shut and no one will know.

I'd say it came out about 85% like what I wanted, and I might up that percentage after using it for a while. Think I'll move into it and give it a test drive next week.  But YAY, I finally (after years of waiting) did it!

Multi-Tasking Sewing Notions

About three years ago I was at a quilt show in New Hampshire when I found this "new" kind of seam ripper.

The woman at the booth demonstrated how it worked and I thought it was pretty clever.  As I am chronically incapable of passing up a cool sewing thingie, I handed over about $5 (I think) and snapped it up.

Fast forward to yesterday when I was in one of those beauty supply shops looking for some super-serious ginormo hair clips.  (My plan to grow out my hair has had a head-on collision with summer heat.  If I don't get it off my neck I'm going to shave my head.).  I was debating the purchase of a good pair of scissors (see paragraph above) when I saw these:



You guessed it.  Exactly the same thing.  This 3-pack was about the same as I paid for one of them in New Hampshire.  Who knew?  Now you ALL do.

PS - So these are facial razors?  I have no idea how this kind of thing would be used, am I missing something here? Come to think of it, 98%  of the stuff in those beauty supply stores looks like they require entirely too much work, effort and maintenance. However, when they can be pressed in to service as a quilting notion......

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?)

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.

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.

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.)

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....

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.

Pot Holder Quilts? Seriously?

Thankfully, not  so much.   About a year and a half ago at a staff meeting (I work at the New England Quilt Museum)  we were discussing upcoming exhibits when the topic of "pot holder quilts" came up as one of our future exhibitions.  I was appalled - POT HOLDERS?  Seriously?  That sounds like a Ronco / Ron Popeil Pocket Fisherman Gadget Making Thingie.  And talk about tacky - POT HOLDER QUILTS? Sheesh. It is hard enough to get respect as a quilter without people thinking we make  quilts out of sewing potholders together.  Further discussion revealed that they were NOT made out of potholders, but utilized the same technique as in  making pot holders.  Each individual block was  about one foot square, quilted, then bound.  (The binding is what sets them apart from the quilt-as-you-go quilts that have the back and front seams joined without binding.)  Who knew?  I sure did not.

[caption id="attachment_1736" align="alignleft" width="263" caption="by Emily (Wiley) Munroe, c. 1865 Collection of the New England Quilt Museum"][/caption]

You can imagine my delight when I realized one of my favorite quilts in the entire NEQM collection  (the Emily Munroe quilt, pictured here) is  - wait for it - a potholder quilt!  It is actually a pretty intriguing idea, certainly portable, and SO much easier (as a hand quilter) to get up close and personal with your blocks when there isn't an armload of  fabric to wrestle in and out of a frame.  (I'm sure I could quilt 15 stitches to the inch if I could get that close to my needle...  or not.) The quilts that have arrived have been much older (starting in 1837) than I would have ever believed possible.  One quilt has small, stamped signature blocks with elegant, inked calligraphy.  I haven't seen the  more contemporary ones yet, they are set up in the workroom undergoing prep and condition reports before the exhibit goes up later this week.  I love sneaking in there for a peek.  It's a job perk.

Thankfully, we are not calling it "Yee Haw, Pot Holder Quilts - Come and Get Your Dinner!"

One Foot Square, Quilted and Bound opens at the New England Quilt Museum on April 14 and runs through July 10, 2011.   LOADS of Civil War references and stories in the older quilts. I'll include a link to the website because there are  lectures and even a demo of  techniques scheduled for later this month.  If you live far away and cannot visit in person I encourage you to  look in to this interesting technique.  It offers some intriguing possibilities.  On the down side,  my #1 job hazard is that every time we open a new show  I become utterly convinced I MUST MAKE ONE  of whatever type of quilt the show is featuring.  It's exhausting.  This time, however, if I lose interest I can always use them as .......potholders.  #WINNING !

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.

Conversations with My Departed Quilting Mother

I need to make a confession.  You see, I was the recipient of my late mother's  Bernina 1090 sewing machine and every time I sit down to sew........she starts talking to me.  Most of the time she is pretty quiet,  but quick to yell when I'm sewing over pins or winding the bobbin too fast (and not paying attention).   Lately we have had some interesting conversations.  Here is a sampling of what happened recently when I was going to make up some potholders for my own kitchen:

ME:  Okay, today I think I'll work on....

MOM:  With that thread?  The color isn't quite right.

ME:   I know, but I'm not in the mood to re-thread the machine and wind a bobbin and it's just a couple of stupid potholders that Joe will spill sauce on and it will be stained and besides shutup, I don't care.

MOM:   You know Joannie, you had that same attitude when you were trying to cover that cigar box with contact paper for your 4-H project when you were in 6th grade.

ME:   Jeez, Mom,  I can't believe you remember that.  I hated that project.

MOM:   It showed. The end result was you  got a white ribbon and I think they gave that to you out of sympathy.

ME:   Thanks for reminding me, Mom, that humiliating memory HAD vanished long ago.

MOM:     Aren't you going to measure that fabric?
ME:    No,  Mom,  it's a potholder.  It will be potholder-sized appropriate.  I like doing these things, no rules, no seam allowance

MOM: That is good, because you still have not mastered a consistent ¼ inch seam.

ME:   I know, I know.  How did you do it?

MOM:  I sewed about ten thousand of them.  That’s how you do it.

ME:   Well, thanks, anything else?
MOM:   You get too tense when you sew, your shoulders start hunching up and your neck gets stiff.  You have to relax, get in to the rhythm of it. You also have a lead foot, you need to slow down.  That machine has a button to keep you sewing at ½ speed you know, why don’t you use it?

ME:   Because I don’t have a lot of time to sew and I feel like I want to get a lot done.

MOM:   That’s good.  Get a lot done.  It will look like crap, but you’ll get a lot done. Would it kill you to put on some lipstick?
ME:   Mom, I’m home, no one sees me all day.

MOM:  So what’s your excuse on work days?  I never see you with lipstick. I never would have left the house without it.

ME:   I know. (Trying to continue sewing)   I’m 52, Mom, I’m not going to start now.

MOM:   Well then at least bite your upper and lower lips a little, that will give you some color…..

ME:   Yes, Mom.  I remember you doing that a lot.  I thought it was because you were angry.

MOM:   Well, most of the time I was mad at one of you kids, but I did it to keep my lips pink when I didn’t have a lipstick handy.

ME:   That’s nice, Mom.

MOM:   What is the  stuff you are putting in that potholder?
ME:   Well, I usually use squares from an old,  cut up mattress pad because  they are soft and thick, but this is a new product that is very thin but has a super heat-resistant layer.

MOM:    That’s nice. I’d put that on top of a square of mattress pad if I were you.

ME:    I was thinking about that……I’m not sure if I trust it.

MOM:    Listen to your Mother….

ME :   Okay, Mom, you’re probably right.
MOM:   No “probably” about it.   I am also right about your hair – why don’t you get that short cut you had when you finished high school?  That was your best haircut, it looked so nice.

ME:   Mom, that was 1976 and every girl had that Dorothy Hammill skater  haircut. I’m not going to get a haircut that is 34 years old and only looks nice when you spin around.

MOM:   OH Jo, you are so rigid sometimes.  You are so like your stubborn Scott(ish) father.

ME:    Excuse me? You don’t think this is from your Irish blood?
MOM:    Don’t be ridiculous.  And watch the binding there, you aren’t going to have a nice mitered corner if you sew too close to the edge and….

ME:    Damnit.  I went to far.  These are going to look like they were done when I was having a martini…
MOM:    Or two.  I don’t know how you drink those things.
ME:    I don’t know how you drank vodka and Squirt. That stuff was sour and vile.

MOM:    Vodka and Squirt was a lovely drink, and if you had 6 kids and a sick husband you would be pretty damn happy to enjoy one at the end of the day.

ME:   Oh, yeah, true, I don’t blame you.  How does this potholder look?
MOM:    Well, not bad. Maybe a red ribbon from the 4H judges.  I don’t know why you are worried about it, you should be working on one of those unfinished quilts.
ME:    I know, I know.  I just wanted to sew a little something and get warmed up.
MOM:  That’s my girl.  Now relax, slow down, and remember to get up and stretch once in awhile.

And that is pretty much how it goes.  I love sewing on her machine (it will always be her machine.) On the days I sit down to sew and don’t hear her voice I never sew as well.  I miss her terribly, and sewing at that machine is the time I feel closest to her.

I will often wear one of her old necklaces to work, and frequently wear a silver thimble keep on a long chain. Inside is her sewing thimble.  I like “taking her to work” with me, especially when we open a new exhibit.  I always hear her quilt commentary in my head.  (She swears more now that no one else can hear her.) Whenever I see paisley fabric fat quarters I pick them up and  think, “I’ll put these away for her birthday…” and then remember that I can’t give them to her anymore.  The realization still makes me weepy.

Then I think about it. The power of love continues to astonish me. Not even death can diminish or  alter the love between a mother and child.  If anything,  the love  has grown  stronger, wiser and is more nourishing.   I certainly keep learning from her, and I know I'm a better quilter because of her.

Thanks Mom – I love you, and heck - I love  your Bernina,  but mostly because it keeps me close to you. A girl never stops needing her mother. I promise to work harder on that 1/4 inch seam thing, too.

Swiss Cheese Memory

As much as I wish this was about my fond recollection of swiss cheese, it is not.  Something very strange is happening and I do not like it one bit.

Yesterday, after an almost summer-long hiatus from my sewing room, I sat down to my freshly cleaned and repaired Bernina to see how quickly I could get back in the swing of things and finish up some quilts. I decided to make up a few potholders to warm up my skills and found out..... I was all over the map.  I kept pushing the wrong place on the Bernina to get my back stitch,  I had to thread the bobbin twice to get it running smoothly, and all in all was just amazed at the lack of continuity in my head.  I've had this machine for about 6 or 7 years and I know it cold.  Or so I thought. After  finishing up 3 homely potholders (no worries, they get used and stained regardless) I decided to finish up some pin cushions from an old silk log cabin quilt that had seen better days.  I had cut the usable squares earlier and started trimming them with black ribbon to stabilize the edges.  Jeebus, what a mess.  That ribbon was slippery and I had to wrap my head around which presser foot to use, feed dogs, etc. and at the end of the episode I cut the thing up  only to  start over after trimming my nasty edges.  All the Fray Check in the world couldn't save it,  poor thing.

I might blame this on the infernal summer heat baking my brains to a level of irreparable damage.  Or, I could just chalk it up to being rusty.  But I never choose the glass that is half full - it is always half empty. (And in grave danger of being empty at any second.) I am so afraid that this is me,  aging.  I'm 52 and much too young for this crap.....but when does "aging"  actually start? I know it will happen eventually - but am I at the threshold of that "eventually"?  I used to pride myself on the number of balls I could keep in the air and nail them all accurately and quickly.  I could dispatch any number of things in a day.  Now it seems like I look upon the increasing number of  tasks  as an additional challenge to my sanity.

Remember the Ed Sullivan show?  There used to be a  guy on there who spun plates on top of 6  foot poles.   He would start one spinning, then pick up a pole and start the 2nd plate spinning.  Then he would run back to the first, give it a spin, spin the 2nd again, and put up a 3rd plate.  Pretty soon he'd have 8 or 9 plates spinning around and he would run back and forth,  frantically giving each of them another spin just as they would wobble precariously.  (Behind this, the orchestra would be playing the Sabre Dance to add to the drama.)  It was wonderful to watch back then, but not so wonderful now. I feel like I'm the one trying to keep all those plates  spinning, and I'm afraid I'm breaking a few of them.

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.

Help, Please!

Please take a two second poll that will help enormously with a future project. THANK YOU ! ! !

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Homage to my Sherpa

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Deborah Janes is my sherpa.  I have the very good fortune to work with this talented woman and I learn from her every single day that I do.  In addition to being one of the most talented quilters I know (click on the above picture)  she has an endless supply of patience.   Seriously.  I know I sometimes ask the most basic questions of her and she manages to look thoughtful (like she has never been asked that before) and give me an answer that in no way makes me feel like an idiot.

I think I am most in awe of the latter - someone with her skills and abilities could easily take the high and haughty route but she does not. Heaven knows there are enough **QB's on the planet.  She demonstrates such a genuine love for what she does that it becomes contagious.  I've seen people in the museum shop watch her, ask her questions, and she draws them in to whatever she is working on and always tells them, "Oh yes you CAN do this,  it's fun!" and they walk away shaking their heads in amazement....and encouraged by her infused energy.

I am inspired by Debbie  for these and other reasons that go beyond what can be discussed here.  She has faced major battles in her life and she meets them head on.  I try to remember her example when I am asked questions (not about quilting) by tourists in my husband's store, by people who think working at a quilt museum is (tilt your head to the side) "sooo cute!" and who generally exhibit a disregard for personal property.  (I honk the hell out of my horn when I see someone throw a cigarette butt out their car window.)  I think we all have knowledge and gifts that we need to share with others even if we don't realize it ourselves.  I hope before I leave this earth I have been a sherpa to someone, or a whole lot of someones.

**QB's  =  Quilt Bitches.  We all know a few..... make sure you aren't one of them.

A Quilter's Confession

I'm still thumbing through Anonymous Was a Woman.  I pick it up often and every time  I find something wonderful to savor.  This is today's excerpt, and every woman who has made a quilt, mended a shirt or hemmed a pair of trousers knows exactly what this woman is talking about:

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,  from the book Anonymous Was a Woman, 1979, Mirra Bank, St. Martin's Press.

You Like Me - You Really Like Me!

Awwww, sorry to go all "Sally Fields" on you, but I just received the nicest award from Shannon over at MonkeyDog Quilts.   I think Shannon 'gets' my dark sense of humor, and aside from my family and a few good friends that is a pretty rare thing.  Anyway, she's a doll,  she has a crazy dog and she really enjoys sewing.  What's  not to love?

Before I get my tiara I have to follow a few rules and do some stuff.  This will entitle me to bestow this lovely award on others so that I may encourage them the way that Shannon has, thankfully, done for me.  First up - I have to reveal  seven things.   This could be interesting.

1. I have a tool box that I hide from my husband. Inside are my needle nose pliers, an assortment of screwdrivers, blue painter's tape (also used to tape off quilting patterns), graduated paint rollers, a stash of Allen wrenches and my very precious collection of paintbrushes.  I have to hide them because my husband would use an expensive cutting brush to sweep dead leaf gunk out of a gutter and not break a sweat.  If you turned me loose in a hardware store with $500 to spend  I'd blow it all in the paint department.


2. I consider the following one of the finest culinary recipes for comfort food: hot chicken soup, a box of Chicken in a Biscuit crackers and Skippy chunky peanut butter.  Apply chunky peanut butter to CIB crackers and float them on top of a steaming bowl of chicken soup.  It is a thing of beauty and it is delicious.  (Hey, I make my own soup.)


3. I started sewing in junior high school and have made garments all my life.  I consider myself a pretty good quilter but I can't for the life of me install a simple  zipper.


4. I sing while I brush my teeth.


5. I have struggled with shyness my entire life.


6. I have a pair of mentors who live on my CPU and I talk to them a lot.  Helen (the chicken) and Commander Bob (the green army guy) are fine sources of wisdom.  I can't use the language they use here  so let's just say they have a very low tolerance for BS and keep me on track about a lot of things.


7. I adore rhubarb.

There - let the festivities begin.  Bloggers everywhere should rejoice that while we may be separated by time, distance, opinion or subject,  we all support each other.  It is a delight for me to be able to now go forth and do it for others.

Food for Thought

Whatever you say,  do, create, paint, weave,  whatever --   this is today's food for thought:

I've been a hard worker all my life, but 'most all my work has been the kind that 'perishes with the usin'," as the Bible says.  That's the discouragin' thing about a woman's work....if a woman was to see all the dishes that she had to wash before she dies, piled up before her in one pile, she'd like down right then and there. I've always had the name 'o bein' a good housekeeper, but when I'm dead and gone there ain't anybody goin' to think  o'  the floors I've swept, and the tables I've scrubbed, and the old clothes I've patched, and the stockin's I've darned...But when one of my grandchildren or great-grandchildren sees one o' these quilts, they'll think about Aunt Jane, and, wherever I am,

I'll know I ain't forgotten.

Aunt Jane of Kentucky,  ca. 1900 - from the book Anonymous Was a Woman, 1979, Mirra Bank, St. Martin's Press.