Wednesday, November 18, 2015
Firestorm in Review
I always thought that I was born in the wrong age. I should have been a pioneer, facing the new world, the wagon road, the trail to the west. Something. Not just mundane and get through life things.
That kind of thinking tells you when the road is rough, put on the iron suit and keep trudging. It can't kill off the real deep inside "you" Well, I guess we all have lessons to learn.
That policy worked - mostly. But while we were living in our single wide rental counting the days till we could move back to our spot on the hill and a new house, there were days when I would find myself going back to bed during the day, pulling the covers up and just laying as still as I possibly could.
I haven't cut my hair since about 1974. Just going to be as the Lord made me.
Well, after we actually moved into the house, I found my hair was just getting shorter. I tried no sulfate shampoos. I was gentle with it. But it just kept getting shorter, and its not "even" all the way around. There are places on the sides of my head that are only 5 inches long. Little frizzles and breaks everyday. It doesn't feel like straw or anything, it is just falling off and out. I have read somewhere that that is from trauma. ????
I can see that the whole experiance of the fire taking away alot of your life work in a few minutes of time has changed my husband, my daughter and I. You can't quite put your finger on why we are just, kind of different, do not react the same, have a little trouble getting things to fall together right in our head-- but its there.
Some days I have glimpses of the "old me". But its not quite there. Will it ever be? After all we are adjusting and moving on. Our bodies have gotten olders. Our goals are different. Our humor is different. It just all adds up.
In some ways I am more patient. I know that realistically things have happened really well for us, and that you have to put the things in order by importance, adjust to change in plans, by who offers to help do what and wait for the comfortable and ease of a new chickenhouse and make do with the surviving goathouse. The chickens are alive and doing, they just don't have a roost yet, or laying boxes or screens to keep the birds away from their food.
There are things we need to do before we plant shrubs and stuff, but it will have to wait abit longer. The siding took so long to get on, but its almost completely on now-- so, what if it has to wait till spring for paint now?
We have got so very much done-- be happy.
I feel very old now and am testing what few skills I seem to have left. There is so much that I could do before the fire, that now I can't. It took a toll on the very quality of my health and lfie. It would have happened anyway, right? Well, maybe not just how it has.
Its an adjustment.
Monday, March 2, 2015
Still alive and hopefully well here
Things are going fast and furious here. There seems to be no way to meet every commitment on time.
But it is comming together.
We had a friend drive up from Oregon just to work on some tile. No time to do it all and too busy and harried himself to try. But he did the the "different new" tile job on the upper bath floor and started the master bath and gave some ideas for the stove backsplash or whatever you call it for the range in the kitchen.
It gave us heart again, I think.
So many things that I never thought about, visulized or was consulted about, but thats ok, I guess. This home will be part ours and part some of the kids. And thats ok. When I start to leave it each day, I slow down and stop in the drive and try to imagine it covered with greenry and stuff. I have a few notes laying about-- must replant roses, Gertrude Jeckyl, Midas Touch, Sally Holmes, Dortmund and on and on. Small trees with bark interest. Bird feeders and how to plan them. And I like to stand at the new back doorway and think of paths for grandkids and hidden turns and cover for mystery exploring and the mind games that kids play, if you can get them away from the screens.
The cabinets are mostly in. Tomorrow, we go select cuts for countertops and granite. Today I walked through the kitchen and tried to imagine using it.
The next day, the carpet comes. All but two rooms we will have to ask them to wait on. Our budget is shrinking and each delay, each not ready, each decision unmade keeps hacking away at it.
Oh, well.
The March winds have arrived. Funny, I worried about deep cold, I worried about heavy rains, which will still be a danger for long time to come. But today, driving into Brewster, I watched part of a field blow by overhead, a huge brown cloud of dust, and I wondered what indent it made on the river and where it would wind up, this migrating dirt. I had forgotten the March winds. If we are lucky, two weeks of it and then nice weather with an occasional storm. I do not like the wind. It comes from having bad ears and a bad chest. But this too will pass.
Its nice to have blue skys sometimes and the most of the grey gone. I still watch to see if its clouds up on the hills or fire though.
There are all sorts of ashes from the fire and its not all on the ground. Some of it is in my head.
But it is comming together.
We had a friend drive up from Oregon just to work on some tile. No time to do it all and too busy and harried himself to try. But he did the the "different new" tile job on the upper bath floor and started the master bath and gave some ideas for the stove backsplash or whatever you call it for the range in the kitchen.
It gave us heart again, I think.
So many things that I never thought about, visulized or was consulted about, but thats ok, I guess. This home will be part ours and part some of the kids. And thats ok. When I start to leave it each day, I slow down and stop in the drive and try to imagine it covered with greenry and stuff. I have a few notes laying about-- must replant roses, Gertrude Jeckyl, Midas Touch, Sally Holmes, Dortmund and on and on. Small trees with bark interest. Bird feeders and how to plan them. And I like to stand at the new back doorway and think of paths for grandkids and hidden turns and cover for mystery exploring and the mind games that kids play, if you can get them away from the screens.
The cabinets are mostly in. Tomorrow, we go select cuts for countertops and granite. Today I walked through the kitchen and tried to imagine using it.
The next day, the carpet comes. All but two rooms we will have to ask them to wait on. Our budget is shrinking and each delay, each not ready, each decision unmade keeps hacking away at it.
Oh, well.
The March winds have arrived. Funny, I worried about deep cold, I worried about heavy rains, which will still be a danger for long time to come. But today, driving into Brewster, I watched part of a field blow by overhead, a huge brown cloud of dust, and I wondered what indent it made on the river and where it would wind up, this migrating dirt. I had forgotten the March winds. If we are lucky, two weeks of it and then nice weather with an occasional storm. I do not like the wind. It comes from having bad ears and a bad chest. But this too will pass.
Its nice to have blue skys sometimes and the most of the grey gone. I still watch to see if its clouds up on the hills or fire though.
There are all sorts of ashes from the fire and its not all on the ground. Some of it is in my head.
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Post Trauma Depression from the firestormII
All I have to do is talk to the locals. We are all doing it. Its called doing meltdowns, trembling, and sitting alot doing as little as possibles.
No, I have nothing to complain about. well, I do, but it isn't going to change the course of my life, or anything like that!
Mostly I am one of the very blest. We have a warm. comfortable place. We have a lovely house going up on the hill. My kids are alive and well and doing their own lives and being productive.
So why is it sometimes during the day, I just crawl back in bed and pull the covers over my head and lay just as very still as I can. I can do that much longer than I used to be able to. And don't I just despise slugs!!
Its helps a lot that we are having some sunshine. That the Willow branches are turning golden, that my tulip bulbs along our drive are growing like nothing every happened. We have even had tulips come up where the aspen trees burned and their roots have been prised out and the tractor has moved dirt around and rearrange the topography of our lot. Thats a good word. Topography! Don't know what some words appeal. But those tulips, they just somehow endured and managed to land near where they were, put down roots and grow. And hopefully they will flower too. I would like to do that too.
Some people say, you are going to be better off than you were. A brand new house that you designed and built, something you could never have done with out the fire!! Too true--- if it even matters. Sticks and Stones may hurt my bones but truthful words do not hurt me. Neither do they make it all better.
I am "thinking" about working a little in the garden. I am thinking. But I am not doing much. My husband has done until he is about done in. He is driven. I am hiding under the covers. I do despise slugs. They have no back bone.
This too will pass. I hope. I would like to respect myself again.
No, I have nothing to complain about. well, I do, but it isn't going to change the course of my life, or anything like that!
Mostly I am one of the very blest. We have a warm. comfortable place. We have a lovely house going up on the hill. My kids are alive and well and doing their own lives and being productive.
So why is it sometimes during the day, I just crawl back in bed and pull the covers over my head and lay just as very still as I can. I can do that much longer than I used to be able to. And don't I just despise slugs!!
Its helps a lot that we are having some sunshine. That the Willow branches are turning golden, that my tulip bulbs along our drive are growing like nothing every happened. We have even had tulips come up where the aspen trees burned and their roots have been prised out and the tractor has moved dirt around and rearrange the topography of our lot. Thats a good word. Topography! Don't know what some words appeal. But those tulips, they just somehow endured and managed to land near where they were, put down roots and grow. And hopefully they will flower too. I would like to do that too.
Some people say, you are going to be better off than you were. A brand new house that you designed and built, something you could never have done with out the fire!! Too true--- if it even matters. Sticks and Stones may hurt my bones but truthful words do not hurt me. Neither do they make it all better.
I am "thinking" about working a little in the garden. I am thinking. But I am not doing much. My husband has done until he is about done in. He is driven. I am hiding under the covers. I do despise slugs. They have no back bone.
This too will pass. I hope. I would like to respect myself again.
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
Its really December
This is all so weird. I am perfectly fine. Doing just dandy. Life is good. Then the next morning, I can't figure out how I will ever get through this stretch.
The sermon Sunday gave me lots to meditate on, push to the back of my mind to drag out at times and chew on. It keeps resurfacing during parts of the day-----if I allow it too.
We have been noticing, my husband, daughter and I that people who survived the fire, and their losses, are having dark days about now. Is it the comming of winter, the less light in the day, the Thanksgiving feast, or , hum, Christmas looming? Why are we all kind of feeling as if we are setting at the bottom of the ditch beside the road, wondering if you even want to get your feet under you and keep moving. We have all felt some repercussions in our state of health too. Interesting. But not fun.
Our children arranged for us to go to the Oregon Coast for the Feast week. Most all of the families made the trek and we had a good time. The coast always seems theraputic. And then we came home. The weather had been below freezing for most of two weeks. Now its in the upper 30's and 40's, but there is grey and rain.
We have wondered if we wanted to, or if we even could stand going through the motions. Can you make something happen, to come true, to be real?
We have bought tree lights and a tree, and this evening, the local grandkids came and helped Grandpa put up the tree, the lights and all. He says he feels better having it up. I am glad its done.
It doesn't make me sing like I would like too. But am glad its done.
What does make me feel good is the house on the hill that is being built. They have all the windows in now except the few, that mistakes were made on. The PUD is supposed to come and turn on the power this week. Most of the sheetrock is up and one of the sheetrockers worked late tonight. There is temporary heat and when you step into the entry and then the living room it feels so very good, So very very good. That feeling is amazing.
Making decisions has been tormenting. Decisions made, Decisions changed. Back and Forth and never feeling that its right. But Saturday I went to the City by myself, and took my time and made some decisions, again. And it seemed that my kitchen, that has been so important and so elusive, just came together. I can see it now in my minds eye and I just want it done, to walk and work in it, to dance in it, to cook in it. Too sing, and sing.
The entry hall has fallen apart again. Tile that had been chosen, discontinued and another choice, just too busy, but this time my husband went with me and we picked up some samples together and brought them home and put them behind a chair till we had quiet peaceful time to look at them again, and with our daughter. It will be ok. We hope we find it this time. We have looked and looked until you feel like you have considered everything.But when its right, it will be right.
We had to buy more insulation, more than we thought, and when we went to the lumber yard today there were two doors. We have been pricing doors that we like at about $1400, and I am not joking that figure. These two doors some one had ordered and never picked up. They wanted $200 each for them. No--they weren't EXACTLY what I had envisioned-- but they are nice. Not as private as I would want, but warmer, more open and welcoming and the fiberglass we wanted for this climate.. And, I can use that extra budget to buy something else that we really think is necessary for the house. And I have a feeling that we will find that too. That life will be better. That we will get through this. We will sing and cry but we will get through this and some how we will meld with the home the firestorm prepared us for.
A little melodramatic perhaps, but better than setting in the rain crying.
The sermon Sunday gave me lots to meditate on, push to the back of my mind to drag out at times and chew on. It keeps resurfacing during parts of the day-----if I allow it too.
We have been noticing, my husband, daughter and I that people who survived the fire, and their losses, are having dark days about now. Is it the comming of winter, the less light in the day, the Thanksgiving feast, or , hum, Christmas looming? Why are we all kind of feeling as if we are setting at the bottom of the ditch beside the road, wondering if you even want to get your feet under you and keep moving. We have all felt some repercussions in our state of health too. Interesting. But not fun.
Our children arranged for us to go to the Oregon Coast for the Feast week. Most all of the families made the trek and we had a good time. The coast always seems theraputic. And then we came home. The weather had been below freezing for most of two weeks. Now its in the upper 30's and 40's, but there is grey and rain.
We have wondered if we wanted to, or if we even could stand going through the motions. Can you make something happen, to come true, to be real?
We have bought tree lights and a tree, and this evening, the local grandkids came and helped Grandpa put up the tree, the lights and all. He says he feels better having it up. I am glad its done.
It doesn't make me sing like I would like too. But am glad its done.
What does make me feel good is the house on the hill that is being built. They have all the windows in now except the few, that mistakes were made on. The PUD is supposed to come and turn on the power this week. Most of the sheetrock is up and one of the sheetrockers worked late tonight. There is temporary heat and when you step into the entry and then the living room it feels so very good, So very very good. That feeling is amazing.
Making decisions has been tormenting. Decisions made, Decisions changed. Back and Forth and never feeling that its right. But Saturday I went to the City by myself, and took my time and made some decisions, again. And it seemed that my kitchen, that has been so important and so elusive, just came together. I can see it now in my minds eye and I just want it done, to walk and work in it, to dance in it, to cook in it. Too sing, and sing.
The entry hall has fallen apart again. Tile that had been chosen, discontinued and another choice, just too busy, but this time my husband went with me and we picked up some samples together and brought them home and put them behind a chair till we had quiet peaceful time to look at them again, and with our daughter. It will be ok. We hope we find it this time. We have looked and looked until you feel like you have considered everything.But when its right, it will be right.
We had to buy more insulation, more than we thought, and when we went to the lumber yard today there were two doors. We have been pricing doors that we like at about $1400, and I am not joking that figure. These two doors some one had ordered and never picked up. They wanted $200 each for them. No--they weren't EXACTLY what I had envisioned-- but they are nice. Not as private as I would want, but warmer, more open and welcoming and the fiberglass we wanted for this climate.. And, I can use that extra budget to buy something else that we really think is necessary for the house. And I have a feeling that we will find that too. That life will be better. That we will get through this. We will sing and cry but we will get through this and some how we will meld with the home the firestorm prepared us for.
A little melodramatic perhaps, but better than setting in the rain crying.
Friday, September 26, 2014
And so it rolls
It has been a very bad, not so terrile, muddled, slow start week.
I have been trying to get out and walk. My body is in such poor shape, from fat, from falling and hurting my legs and ankles and not able to get around very well. So, I figured, walk 4 blocks to start. I actually felt better and less pain in my ankles. The next day I walked 6 blocks. Better yet, just alittle breathless, and the next day 7 blocks.
Then two days of running around, cooking etc. chores, laundry and not much else. I don't have the what it takes to sew. But my daughter took me to the new quilt store in Winthrop, "The Three Bears" and I couldn't resist buying some red and white stripe vintage fabric, and some dark blue with tiny stars. I have an idea, but it has to cook for a while in the dark recesses of my mind before it can bloom.
But too busy to walk? I had a friend that is having a rough patch. Shes trying to behave herself but some signs of imminent stroke. Today I went to stay with her for a few hours, just so she is not alone and will not try to do something ambitious. She can't hardly set still and rest.
I on the otherhand have been feeling some crumbling in my armour. Wednesday night in church for some reason I started thinking of my paternal grandparents and realized, its possible that I don't have a picture of them. I don't know for sure, because I have not been able to check out my external hard backup yet. But it is possible. And my brother had given me his pictures to copy and then send back. Guess what--- ashes to ashes.
There are little bits of grit falling inside. I can feel it. Knowing me I will crash and sob when I have the biggest audience because, the humiliation of it all will try and do me in.
I just do not want to mess with the drama, trauma,headache, heartache and everything else that will bubble up and come out. What is the point anyway? Why waste the time. But the memory is starting to surface of things that are no more.
So- I have replaced a book that I have lost and Hopefully, plan on adding 15 minutes of exercise a day to this - can we even call it, a walking program at this stage. And I bought a god pair of walking shoes that will do me in all kinds of weather. Started breaking them in to day.
The house is rising. The I-joists are mostly up on the second floor. When you step inside the doorway, the house sort of wraps its self around me and there is this good cozy feeling, just standing in it. Do I dare hope that it will actually happen.
There is a stack of garden books by the bed. Hubby says don't plan on planting pine trees again behind the house. Oh how I love Poderosas. Surely we can find a place for them somewhere. So I planned a planting of old Homestead roses along the upper drive. He says they build up dry brushy branches fast and furious and are very hard to prune. Hummm. Problems on every hand. But don't get in a stir about it. There is so terribly much to do before I can even "think" of actual work on that stuff.
The upper veggie gardens? What do I dare do. Can I get some fencing up? Yes, will have too. The dogs have been in there and I don't need their gifts left to contaminate my food. I need to think of just what is the best and first thing to do.??
Guess, as usual. I will try and sleep on it. Tomorrow, may bloom brighter.
I have been trying to get out and walk. My body is in such poor shape, from fat, from falling and hurting my legs and ankles and not able to get around very well. So, I figured, walk 4 blocks to start. I actually felt better and less pain in my ankles. The next day I walked 6 blocks. Better yet, just alittle breathless, and the next day 7 blocks.
Then two days of running around, cooking etc. chores, laundry and not much else. I don't have the what it takes to sew. But my daughter took me to the new quilt store in Winthrop, "The Three Bears" and I couldn't resist buying some red and white stripe vintage fabric, and some dark blue with tiny stars. I have an idea, but it has to cook for a while in the dark recesses of my mind before it can bloom.
But too busy to walk? I had a friend that is having a rough patch. Shes trying to behave herself but some signs of imminent stroke. Today I went to stay with her for a few hours, just so she is not alone and will not try to do something ambitious. She can't hardly set still and rest.
I on the otherhand have been feeling some crumbling in my armour. Wednesday night in church for some reason I started thinking of my paternal grandparents and realized, its possible that I don't have a picture of them. I don't know for sure, because I have not been able to check out my external hard backup yet. But it is possible. And my brother had given me his pictures to copy and then send back. Guess what--- ashes to ashes.
There are little bits of grit falling inside. I can feel it. Knowing me I will crash and sob when I have the biggest audience because, the humiliation of it all will try and do me in.
I just do not want to mess with the drama, trauma,headache, heartache and everything else that will bubble up and come out. What is the point anyway? Why waste the time. But the memory is starting to surface of things that are no more.
So- I have replaced a book that I have lost and Hopefully, plan on adding 15 minutes of exercise a day to this - can we even call it, a walking program at this stage. And I bought a god pair of walking shoes that will do me in all kinds of weather. Started breaking them in to day.
The house is rising. The I-joists are mostly up on the second floor. When you step inside the doorway, the house sort of wraps its self around me and there is this good cozy feeling, just standing in it. Do I dare hope that it will actually happen.
There is a stack of garden books by the bed. Hubby says don't plan on planting pine trees again behind the house. Oh how I love Poderosas. Surely we can find a place for them somewhere. So I planned a planting of old Homestead roses along the upper drive. He says they build up dry brushy branches fast and furious and are very hard to prune. Hummm. Problems on every hand. But don't get in a stir about it. There is so terribly much to do before I can even "think" of actual work on that stuff.
The upper veggie gardens? What do I dare do. Can I get some fencing up? Yes, will have too. The dogs have been in there and I don't need their gifts left to contaminate my food. I need to think of just what is the best and first thing to do.??
Guess, as usual. I will try and sleep on it. Tomorrow, may bloom brighter.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Quilt Show Friday
My daughter called and asked if I wanted to go to the quilt show this last Friday. Have I ever turned down an invite to a Quilt Show? Well, at least one more.
My husband and I had made it down to the Moses Lake Quilt show earlier in the year and it was a really fun one for me. They had a nice display of older quilts that for some reason really appealed to me, with their sharp colors contrasts and old quilt patterns. I just kept going back and looking at those old quilts again and again. Perhaps thats why after the fire took us out, and I started feeling the need for fabric between my fingers or under my rotary blade, that I started looking at fabrics that could almost pass for old. The difference of course is the slightly different design with color approach. But that is what I sought when I went to buy some Therapy Fabric after the fire.
But Life has been busy, and mind bending. I had turned down a trip to the Buggy Barn Show. Two things, I had fell and hurt my legs and ankles, and I just don't feel justified in purchasing fabric right now--- except for what I got with my gift certificate and then just a little more to round out this project that I have started. But I have also felt somewhat disconnected with life, somewhat drifting and not very focused, so this sounded like a good thing to do at this time.
It was a good show. Lots of quilts, the guest quilter did applique and it was so very good, and there were the usual quilts, the well, just quilts and some very interesting modern quilting design quilts. How can I do that, veer back and forth from the old to the very modern? But that was where my interest was this time. What do they have in common? What attracts me right now and why? Simplicity? Colors? Less clutter? What is it? I can't find it, what I am seeing that attracts. Maybe it is not what they have in common, but what each offers that is interesting.
While visiting with a friend today, she was talking about the lack of interesting quilts at the county fair this year. One winner, she just couln't get into this quilt at all, and I found that one the most interesting of the display. She thought that it was so full of unrelated fabric and too many fabrics with pictures of things in it, and I can see that and understand that. But she felt it was just a meshmash of mixed color and no real pattern, and I thought the path the colors took you down was what was interesting. And I must admit. There wasn't much else to catch my interest at that display either. Quilters! Arise and show your work! Intrigue other quilters into doing more. We do stimulate each other and that is good.
But there were a few quilts at this show I went back and looked at a few times, trying to decide what attracted me, what pulled me back, what I was seeing. I had no trouble with wanting to duplicate them and as I told my husband, there is something sad at looking at so much display and your minds eye kept calling to mind your own unfinished but loved work that the firestorm took out. I try not to dwell on that stuff. But the more you see, the more you remember.
But,perhaps I liked the very modern look this time because, I am working on a "sort of" oldish design, and what I lost was folky, brights and sharp,my own designs or a series of drunkard paths, and I didn't have to compare so different with so modern? Your mind will play tricks with you, so it doesn't have to hurt anymore.
I didn't purchase a single piece of fabric at the show. That was surely not me. But I didn't. I want to keep on with this Therapy project and finish it and not get side tracked with multi ideas. I do think working with multi ideas at the same time is a good thing. You can switch modes and jump start some good design activity with a fresh approach on a fresh day. Its just that -- now is not the time to invest in fabric, not for me. I am trying to focus on the important things of life, and not just be a loose marble, rolling from item to item, out of control. I am probably afraid of losing control and spiriling somewhere where I don't want to go.
One thing that I couldn't resist though was, the Quilting Boutique Booth that had boxes and boxes and boxes of old quilt books, all kinds, all assorted publishers, along with magazines for sale---CHEAP. With my library in ashes, this I couldn't and didn't resist. What bargins.
I haven't looked at any of them yet since I brought them home. I am saving them for that lazy, cozy, day of sheer relaxing.
What I did do though was sew up four more of my project quilt blocks. They do not look old. They have a certain old feel, but they are too sharp and colorful to be old. There is too much different directions in the fabric designs to attain a certain blahness that most old quilts have. But it was an enjoyable day, and maybe the best part of the day was to feel the machine sing beneath my fingers when I came home and pieced a few more blocks.
My husband and I had made it down to the Moses Lake Quilt show earlier in the year and it was a really fun one for me. They had a nice display of older quilts that for some reason really appealed to me, with their sharp colors contrasts and old quilt patterns. I just kept going back and looking at those old quilts again and again. Perhaps thats why after the fire took us out, and I started feeling the need for fabric between my fingers or under my rotary blade, that I started looking at fabrics that could almost pass for old. The difference of course is the slightly different design with color approach. But that is what I sought when I went to buy some Therapy Fabric after the fire.
But Life has been busy, and mind bending. I had turned down a trip to the Buggy Barn Show. Two things, I had fell and hurt my legs and ankles, and I just don't feel justified in purchasing fabric right now--- except for what I got with my gift certificate and then just a little more to round out this project that I have started. But I have also felt somewhat disconnected with life, somewhat drifting and not very focused, so this sounded like a good thing to do at this time.
It was a good show. Lots of quilts, the guest quilter did applique and it was so very good, and there were the usual quilts, the well, just quilts and some very interesting modern quilting design quilts. How can I do that, veer back and forth from the old to the very modern? But that was where my interest was this time. What do they have in common? What attracts me right now and why? Simplicity? Colors? Less clutter? What is it? I can't find it, what I am seeing that attracts. Maybe it is not what they have in common, but what each offers that is interesting.
While visiting with a friend today, she was talking about the lack of interesting quilts at the county fair this year. One winner, she just couln't get into this quilt at all, and I found that one the most interesting of the display. She thought that it was so full of unrelated fabric and too many fabrics with pictures of things in it, and I can see that and understand that. But she felt it was just a meshmash of mixed color and no real pattern, and I thought the path the colors took you down was what was interesting. And I must admit. There wasn't much else to catch my interest at that display either. Quilters! Arise and show your work! Intrigue other quilters into doing more. We do stimulate each other and that is good.
But there were a few quilts at this show I went back and looked at a few times, trying to decide what attracted me, what pulled me back, what I was seeing. I had no trouble with wanting to duplicate them and as I told my husband, there is something sad at looking at so much display and your minds eye kept calling to mind your own unfinished but loved work that the firestorm took out. I try not to dwell on that stuff. But the more you see, the more you remember.
But,perhaps I liked the very modern look this time because, I am working on a "sort of" oldish design, and what I lost was folky, brights and sharp,my own designs or a series of drunkard paths, and I didn't have to compare so different with so modern? Your mind will play tricks with you, so it doesn't have to hurt anymore.
I didn't purchase a single piece of fabric at the show. That was surely not me. But I didn't. I want to keep on with this Therapy project and finish it and not get side tracked with multi ideas. I do think working with multi ideas at the same time is a good thing. You can switch modes and jump start some good design activity with a fresh approach on a fresh day. Its just that -- now is not the time to invest in fabric, not for me. I am trying to focus on the important things of life, and not just be a loose marble, rolling from item to item, out of control. I am probably afraid of losing control and spiriling somewhere where I don't want to go.
One thing that I couldn't resist though was, the Quilting Boutique Booth that had boxes and boxes and boxes of old quilt books, all kinds, all assorted publishers, along with magazines for sale---CHEAP. With my library in ashes, this I couldn't and didn't resist. What bargins.
I haven't looked at any of them yet since I brought them home. I am saving them for that lazy, cozy, day of sheer relaxing.
What I did do though was sew up four more of my project quilt blocks. They do not look old. They have a certain old feel, but they are too sharp and colorful to be old. There is too much different directions in the fabric designs to attain a certain blahness that most old quilts have. But it was an enjoyable day, and maybe the best part of the day was to feel the machine sing beneath my fingers when I came home and pieced a few more blocks.
Monday, September 8, 2014
Our firestorm changed me, I thought
I was a confident perfectly happy adult meandering through my occupational hazardous day. There were so many things I wanted to do, meant to do, hoped to do, and planned to do, that it was just a matter of choosing what would occupy my time at the moment.
Kids were out of the house, money of my own to spend with no guilt in what ever way I wanted to spend it and enough interests, that there were plenty of choices. I like to be alone, I crave to be alone but I confess, I was discovering that aloneness wasn't quite what I had thought it was when there were so many to do for, for so long.
My empty nest was full of genealogy work and fabric piled, folded, organized, and just crammed all around me to create with. I had reached the point where patterns were secondary at best, I felt able to start putting fabric on the board and seeing where it took me. Oh, yes, early stages of that, but fun, interesting and variable.
Our little firestorm changed that. I "said" I wasn't going to sew. My friend and right arm, Betsy the 830 Bernina that had traveled the road with me so many years had given up and had to be replaced with a Phaff, anniversary expression model. It had taken some months of getting used to her and we were just starting to move with comfort and amity when now she too was gone. No name yet and now no future. Thousands and thousands of fabriholic collection fabric gone up in smoke, a few barely bought and hadn't even been near a design wall, and most of it unremembered shards of creative impulse, smoked to nonexistance.
But it was a void world out there. I had a few Buckeye chickens left to look at that had somehow survived the smoke as the spit and crackling fire moved through their world and left only 1/3 of them behind, homeless and shaken. But it was less than a week later that I found myself wanting a sewing machine beneath my hands and when I ran across a gift certificate from a daughter in my purse given me for my 68th birthday, well, I couldn't waste that.
I had decided to see if my daughter (in-law) would loan me her sewing machine, and then I talked to a sewing friend about it. The next thing I knew, I was going out of her house with a New Home machine, and a load of tools and necessities, and some not so necessary stuff bundled into the trunk of Bessie, my little red 4 runner.
When my husband saw the machine, he demanded that I hem three new pair of jeans for him. That took a long time. Is there anything more frustrating, exasperating and sewtime killing then hemming jeans for someone?
In the meantime, I pulled out three borrowed quilt books and started planning a mindless, meandering quilt project. Something simple, and just casual sewing was what was needed. Oh, "The Road Home Block", that looks and sounds perfect.
Somewhere along the way, the Road Home was needing more variety so it is being enlarged to contain other blocks that fit into a square in a square pattern. There are pages of notes of how many blocks of what, and color planning of the triangles that will fit it together into a cohesive eclectic collection. How did that happen? Where does the mind come up with this stuff? When did it just take off and start running on its on? This is crazy! Who is in charge here?
My little 2 x 3' space allotted to my "sewing" is creeping, oozing out from its designated tiny corner of this single wide trailer we are renting. I think a monster is growing over in that corner of the kitchen that will just take over if I am not careful!
Meanwhile up on the hill, a block away, our "Home' has been cleared away. Trees have been chopped down and brush hauled away, rubble removed and ashes dug and carried out.
On our dining table, there is a drawing in progress of "the house" to be and on the hill, there is a foundation poured and stem wall forms ready to be poured tomorrow.
I have always designed houses, and wanted to build "my own". That won't happen. This house is not a creation that I 'wanted' to design, no architectural masterpiece from my free spirit, but instead an extension of need. No, I didn't want a prebuilt home. No, I didn't want anyone else to design it. But it had to be done and done quickly. One of my children said its different than our Home, but kind of laid out in much the same pattern.
The first thing I discovered is we can't live in a small tiny bit of space. What are you to do? Your kids can sleep elsewhere when they come home, but you need space to eat and drink in,and thats the real heart of home. So- well, its going to be interesting. I hope it gets built. I hope the funds arrive when necessary. I hope, it goes well. It looks sure and steady on the lot, and bigger than our old house. It isn't is it? Bigger I mean?
We worked out a two bedroom house with an office for Dear Husband, a bedroom, studio and laundry for my daughter in her own upstairs suite. ( interestingly enough, she didn't want her own kitchen??)
And I get what dear husband calls "mom's great room" a combination of mud room for barn chores and gardening, laundry room for maintenance and a space for computer, designwall and sewing machine and a LITTLE fabric. Since there was space under the roof structure for it, we threw in two guest bedrooms. My mind is already venturing into the future yard, trying to decide on trees and shrubs, bird shelter and so on.
I guess there is still life in the minds eye anyway.
So am I changed? Or just alittle bruised and rising from the ashes of the storm?
Kids were out of the house, money of my own to spend with no guilt in what ever way I wanted to spend it and enough interests, that there were plenty of choices. I like to be alone, I crave to be alone but I confess, I was discovering that aloneness wasn't quite what I had thought it was when there were so many to do for, for so long.
My empty nest was full of genealogy work and fabric piled, folded, organized, and just crammed all around me to create with. I had reached the point where patterns were secondary at best, I felt able to start putting fabric on the board and seeing where it took me. Oh, yes, early stages of that, but fun, interesting and variable.
Our little firestorm changed that. I "said" I wasn't going to sew. My friend and right arm, Betsy the 830 Bernina that had traveled the road with me so many years had given up and had to be replaced with a Phaff, anniversary expression model. It had taken some months of getting used to her and we were just starting to move with comfort and amity when now she too was gone. No name yet and now no future. Thousands and thousands of fabriholic collection fabric gone up in smoke, a few barely bought and hadn't even been near a design wall, and most of it unremembered shards of creative impulse, smoked to nonexistance.
But it was a void world out there. I had a few Buckeye chickens left to look at that had somehow survived the smoke as the spit and crackling fire moved through their world and left only 1/3 of them behind, homeless and shaken. But it was less than a week later that I found myself wanting a sewing machine beneath my hands and when I ran across a gift certificate from a daughter in my purse given me for my 68th birthday, well, I couldn't waste that.
I had decided to see if my daughter (in-law) would loan me her sewing machine, and then I talked to a sewing friend about it. The next thing I knew, I was going out of her house with a New Home machine, and a load of tools and necessities, and some not so necessary stuff bundled into the trunk of Bessie, my little red 4 runner.
When my husband saw the machine, he demanded that I hem three new pair of jeans for him. That took a long time. Is there anything more frustrating, exasperating and sewtime killing then hemming jeans for someone?
In the meantime, I pulled out three borrowed quilt books and started planning a mindless, meandering quilt project. Something simple, and just casual sewing was what was needed. Oh, "The Road Home Block", that looks and sounds perfect.
Somewhere along the way, the Road Home was needing more variety so it is being enlarged to contain other blocks that fit into a square in a square pattern. There are pages of notes of how many blocks of what, and color planning of the triangles that will fit it together into a cohesive eclectic collection. How did that happen? Where does the mind come up with this stuff? When did it just take off and start running on its on? This is crazy! Who is in charge here?
My little 2 x 3' space allotted to my "sewing" is creeping, oozing out from its designated tiny corner of this single wide trailer we are renting. I think a monster is growing over in that corner of the kitchen that will just take over if I am not careful!
Meanwhile up on the hill, a block away, our "Home' has been cleared away. Trees have been chopped down and brush hauled away, rubble removed and ashes dug and carried out.
On our dining table, there is a drawing in progress of "the house" to be and on the hill, there is a foundation poured and stem wall forms ready to be poured tomorrow.
I have always designed houses, and wanted to build "my own". That won't happen. This house is not a creation that I 'wanted' to design, no architectural masterpiece from my free spirit, but instead an extension of need. No, I didn't want a prebuilt home. No, I didn't want anyone else to design it. But it had to be done and done quickly. One of my children said its different than our Home, but kind of laid out in much the same pattern.
The first thing I discovered is we can't live in a small tiny bit of space. What are you to do? Your kids can sleep elsewhere when they come home, but you need space to eat and drink in,and thats the real heart of home. So- well, its going to be interesting. I hope it gets built. I hope the funds arrive when necessary. I hope, it goes well. It looks sure and steady on the lot, and bigger than our old house. It isn't is it? Bigger I mean?
We worked out a two bedroom house with an office for Dear Husband, a bedroom, studio and laundry for my daughter in her own upstairs suite. ( interestingly enough, she didn't want her own kitchen??)
And I get what dear husband calls "mom's great room" a combination of mud room for barn chores and gardening, laundry room for maintenance and a space for computer, designwall and sewing machine and a LITTLE fabric. Since there was space under the roof structure for it, we threw in two guest bedrooms. My mind is already venturing into the future yard, trying to decide on trees and shrubs, bird shelter and so on.
I guess there is still life in the minds eye anyway.
So am I changed? Or just alittle bruised and rising from the ashes of the storm?
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