Linda Ronstadt

These last couple of weeks have been for deep thoughts and reckless reflection. You don't want to wallow too far or too long, especially around the holidays...don't know what it is, but despite being a time for joy and peace and brotherhood, it also often seems to be a time for melancholy, and being overwhelmed and underprepared can add to the feeling of drifting.

But, circumstances being what they are...I can't help but feel myself being pulled, emotionally, every-which-way. For the first time in my entire life, there was no Christmas celebration on my dad's side of the family. I'm trying, gently, to get everybody together for pizza and potluck for this weekend, but it's slow going, my friends. I, suddenly, find myself completely available this weekend, as our White Christmas was unceremoniously put on hold ~ indefinitely ~ by my mom, who continues to be worried sick. We were set to be in a cabin, stringing popcorn, as of yesterday and through Monday, but it wasn't meant to be.

BUT, Mimi is MUCH better than I thought she would be...though by no means "out of the woods" she was awake, social, and in quite a bit of pain. Also, totally exhausted by our visit. :-| And, as she regaled us with tales of the emergency room and cracked hilarious jokes about her nursing staff in ICU, I was crocheting away (I still have hope that these last few little projects will be pulled off! haha!) it struck me...she's a storyteller. Not just that she's a ham (she is) or a card (she is), but that it's the way she moves through the world...it's the way she processes things. Everything is real when she's finally told the story.

And. Hello. Hello, there! I am like that, too. It's something I realized about myself only in the last year or so. I do a lot of professional development for teachers, where I'm presenting on how to teach math/how kids learn math, and I always tell stories about the classrooms or the content, and it just struck me not too long ago that it's the way I move through the world. It was so curious to see it in action, in somebody else! In somebody that I love.

And here we come, full circle...I keep feeling these stories, bubbling to the surface, and I'm hesitant to land on them, because they are often little reminders of times gone by, of people no longer with me, of plans and dreams that fall by the wayside, and if I land on them long enough to capture them, I will feel that dark, sad, underbelly of the season of light. I just want to be totally present for my boys and for this day. So I am skimming through these days and, still, trying to sink into the goodness and memories that are being formed even as we live them.

(I very rarely edit what I'm writing here...it's all very stream of consciousness...but I will tell you that I just reread the previous paragraph and changed it from one sentence to three and a half sentences. You're welcome.)

The other day, Tommy looked at me and said, "Is there anything you want for Christmas that costs less than $17.00?" (That's the entire contents of his wallet, I happen to know, so I hid a giggle and asked him to make me something.) "Sure!" he said, and went to work crocheting. Yes, you heard me right. He's crocheting. Be still my heart.

But, the point is (yes, I have one), that I had this rush of memory from being right around his age. My mom gave me and my brother some money, around ten bucks each, and dropped us off at Longs Drug Store in Dublin. We budgeted and shopped for our whole family, wandering the aisles and trying to find exactly the perfect gift that also didn't cost more than $1.40. I ended up buying my mom, I shit you not, a poster of Linda Rondstadt wearing short-shorts and roller skates. It looked something like this.

Now, please understand, my parents were 19 when they got married, and had three kids by the time they were 26 years old. My mom was probably not even 30 years old when I bought this for her. And do you know, she hung it on her closet door, and it stayed there for a few years? Right up until my dad started to remodel our house, in fact! ha! haha! That is still so funny to me! I have no idea what she though when she saw this poster; her house full of antiques, and watermelon wallpaper in the kitchen, and let's face it, macrame (it was the seventies!). But, she woke up every day to Legs MacGee up there, satin jacket and all, because she is somebody who knows how to live for that moment. I learned about sinking into the love from her.

And it pains me to see her, her own stories spread over the last fifty years of her friendship with Mimi bubbling up and wanting to be told...

Hmmm....I'm getting ready to end this in mid-sentence. Sorry! I just can't hold onto it long enough to make it 'right'. I guess I'll just chalk this up to needing to stay on the surface of things. I am happy and bright, I really am, but there's a lot of sadness around me these days, and I'm just going to have to leave it at that.

No Title

I was looking forward to going through some pictures (several hundred!) and recording a few CRAZY CUTE stories (in my humble opinion, of course! ;) from my kiddos...but instead, I'm getting ready to escort my mom up to the ICU, fingers crossed but preparing for the worst. Heavy sigh. Wish us luck, if Mimi doesn't bounce back from this, I can only tell you...well. I have no words for that. Better news and happier mood, I'm hoping, from the other side.

I Love Him

Sometimes, when Tommy and I are driving around living our lives, I run down the many things I love about him. I start with 20 or 30 of my favorite things about him, then I wind down another 20 or so of particularly quirky Tommy-isms. I always end with the same one, though. I eventually tell him (and if I don't, he reminds me to say it) that I love him most and best of all, because he made me a mommy. Before I met Tommy, I wasn't anybody's mama, and he made me the happiest girl in the world when he was born.

He quietly nods; he knows the routine and words by heart. Still he needs to hear these things. I need to tell him these things.

There are so many things I want for him. I want him to find a love that will be a quiet peace in his heart. I know his heart will broken before that happens.

I want him to be bold. And I want him to be cautious. I want him to be both. I want him to find a way to be part of something big... bigger than himself. To figure out how to be a service.


I want to believe that somehow, we're giving him a past worth holding on to.

I want him to be creative. Tonight, when he told me "I can't..." twice. Once about the drums, once about a crocheted bracelet... not a breath disturbed my hurt, hurting for him....still hoping for him, and promising to spend more time with him, to support his creativity.

And earlier tonight, watching him belt out "Drummer Boy" at the top of his lungs...clear, beautiful, sweet. I want that for him, to find song and dance at every opportunity... to soak it up, before somebody tells him he's tone deaf. Before somebody tells him it's 'not cool'. I want him to believe there is joy in doing it just because it makes you happy, and to not worry about what anybody else thinks.

I want him to choose home, and family, and to know what it feels like to love his own children the same way I love him. I want a good life, for him.

And I can feel all these things, swelling over me, more and more each day, as I see how big he's getting. How he's growing up, and away from me, and I look at him and I know how this will end... but for every sadness I feel that he is, ultimately, leaving me, it is replaced with such deep pride and love, for who is now, and for who he is becoming.

Just this week, he ignored me when I was having a bad day (and took it out on him *sigh*) and instead of rightfully feeling sorry for himself, he put his hand on my shoulder and told me he was sorry I was having a hard day. Love. He saw me working hard and offered to wash the dishes with me, then asked me to show him how to run the laundry, so he could help. He folded the towels, got lost in a book, showed Scotty how to play a game, cleaned his desk without being asked, and I love him.

Makes Me Want to Wag My Tail!

Oh dear. Can I tell you what came in the mail? This absolutely heavenly scarf and hat set made from handspun cashmere.

Oh, stop it.

Forgive me, but I have to suggest that you check out my friend Pamela's etsy shop. (Michelle, I think this one screams for you, and Maia, this is the one I think of for you!)

I've been wearing the scarf every day to work, and I can't tell you how many people have complimented me...especially on the color. I had originally thought I wanted a 'true baby pink', but Pamela wrote to let me know it was more 'coral', and not only was she right, but virtually every person I pass pauses just long enough to tell me how flattering the color is on me. They also insist on rubbing the scarf, which, whether they're trying to feel my boob or admire the cashmere, really, who could blame them either way? Go on, then.

It's funny, because you would think, being a 'maker' and all, that I would never purchase a hat and scarf set! I mean, look at this: three scarves I am making as we speak! The turquoise and purple were crocheted in lion brand chenille (poorman's cashmere, I suppose, since it's also soft! haha) for my nieces (matching hats to come!). Simple pattern below ** The red is knitted in a 2x2 ribbed pattern, for my cousin. Size 9 needles with a basic Bernat afghan yarn.

But, as a maker, I appreciate this scarf and cap even more than the average consumer, would be my guess. Handspun cashmere from Scotland? I do not doubt that I would not be able to purchase the fiber for what I paid for the set. Let alone that Pamela's husband is able to create these with machine knitting...seriously, 8 inches wide, 6 feet long, with cables, on what appears to be size 2 needles (picture knitting with toothpicks, my friend, and you'll be getting close)? It would be impossible for me to estimate how long it would take me to make this set, but what I can tell you is that I am sure I'm getting close when I say that there would be no few than 6 dropped stitches and at least a half dozen other mistakes visible to the naked eye.

I LOVE this scarf and hat!

I bought it to 'treat myself' to a little birthday present last week, and, perfectly so, my dear friend Monica made this quilted carry-all bag for me too. It's now a complete matching set, and while I admit that these aren't the most wintery colors I've ever seen, they are just the bright bit of sunshine that gets me through the dreary days of December.

Happy sigh!

** To make a simple scarf with this nice 'pebbly' effect, similar to seed stitch in knitting, it was easy to alternate single and double crochet stitches all the way across. These are started with 11 chains and a P hook. SC in second chain from hook, DC in next chain, SC in next chain, all the way across (ends with DC). Chain one, turn. (Chain one counts as first SC for the row, so skip the DC that ended the previous row and begin working in the next stitch, which is a SC). DC into each SC, SC into each DC, all the way across. Repeat! Can of corn. The general rule of thumb, by the way, when making a scarf, is to make the length the same as the height of the wearer. For my nieces (2nd grade and kindergarten) the scarves are each around 4 feet long. Each took one skein of Chenille "thick and quick" yarn.

My Food is so Political

Is there some sort of legal standing on how many times you can say, "Please leave him alone" and "Please stop screaming" and "Give that back to him" and "I said don't do that" before, legally, you are considered insane? I'm just asking because I'm pretty sure I'm this close to going right over the edge.

And, having virtually nothing positive to say about parenting today, let's move on, shall we?

I read this article this weekend, from Prevention Magazine. They asked a bunch of 'experts' what people should eat, for the healthiest outcomes. There was no consensus, which doesn't surprise me at all. They just couldn't agree. But then they asked which foods people should not eat, and with this list of less than two handfuls of foods, they did come to agreement. (In case you can't read the article, in order: 1. canned tomatoes 2. corn-fed beef 3.microwave popcorn 4. non-organic potatoes 5. farmed salmon 6. milk with artificial hormones 7. conventional apples)

I'm sure there are other things, but I get so confused about all this. I mean, the experts (and I say 'experts' because I have no idea who they are, or what their credentials are) may have their own agendas. They seem heavy into organic farming, for example. Is that why they are so against the non-organics? Or is it the other way around...did they get heavily involved in the organics because they were already fed-up with what the pesticides, chemicals, and additives were doing to our food?

Tonight, I made a big salad with lots of veggies, a homemade dressing with oil and vinegar, some feta cheese and chopped raw walnuts, and then I added a few ounces of cooked salmon. It was delicious, and it should be so healthy ~ nuts and fish, with lots of omega-3s , lots of veggies and dark leafy greens. But as I was eating it (and enjoying the hell out of it), I couldn't help but wonder...were the peppers organic? The lettuce was. I'm pretty sure the onion wasn't. The salmon must be farmed, I am presuming, since it did not cost me eleventy-billion dollars for a one-pound fillet.

It's so easy to get crazy about food. At least, for me, it is. I try to eat healthy, to make good choices for my family...but it's so hard to sort out what the real threats are. Who does it serve to feed farmed salmon chicken crap? Seriously? Who does it serve, for that matter, to add corn syrup to everything? Here's where I get a little nutty...having the food industry making these decisions is a bit like handing over the keys to the hen house to the fox, am I wrong? Isn't that like asking the insurance companies how to do health reform? Or asking oil companies about the pros and cons of alternative energies? Isn't it just human nature to pick and choose any 'evidence' that might support what you already want to believe? And to subjugate or discredit any 'evidence' that is contrary to what you already want to believe?

Years ago, when the rBGh and rBST hormones came onto my radar (because I was buying milk for my kids) I switched to organic milk. Our family friends, who own a dairy farm, pretty much called bullshit on the organic milk. Is that true, though? I know they really, sincerely did believe it was true. But people really-sincerely believe lots of things that I'm pretty sure are totally crackerjack crazy. Which one is it? Do I have to get a PhD in sustainable agriculture and nutrition before I can negotiate the average grocery store?

For that matter, does the average grocery store even offer the alternatives that I'm told I need to seek out? Do they even carry grass-fed beef?

Sorry I'm all question-marky and if we were actually having this conversation, face-to-face, I'd probably have to admit that I'd be spitting on you, just a little bit, because yes, I'm that wound up. Some things are easy to give up ~ I prefer air-popped to microwave popcorn anyway, and I am very nearly set with my own tomatoes for most of my cooking needs ~ but other things are so cumbersome. When I was in college, I was pretty poor, and I can remember going to the corner market to look for a snack suitable to call 'lunch' (for under $2.50) and I would spend some time looking at nutrition information and ingredient lists, and eventually, I would leave with nothing to eat. Because I was incapable of making a healthy decision, given the options, and it was so overwhelming that I basically 'gave up' and left empty-handed.

That's a pretty extreme reaction! And, so you can sleep tonight, you should know I haven't missed a meal OR snack since 1997, believe that. Also, let me just add here, I'm not insensitive to the fact that it is only because I live in the US, a land of nearly embarrassing riches when it comes to the food and beverage choices we get to make, daily, that this is even an issue...I'm sure there are lots of people, with real problems, who would roll their eyes at the amount of energy I've already devoted to trying to figure all this out, I get that...but still, it shouldn't be this hard.

Happy Hannukah!

Tommy's "best friend in the whole world" is a wonderful little boy who has an amazing family that we all love very much. Lucky, lucky us that these two boys are best buds. As Erik says, "Those two are always on the same page."




It's always a party at Mike and Amy's! And Friday was no exception. We headed over on a rainy afternoon (and it hasn't stopped raining since!) for a Hannukah celebration.





What do I know about being Jewish? Well, very little. One thing I like about just nearly every Jewish person I've ever met, is they are very willing (and very patient) to explain their beliefs, on a very intellectual level. Maybe it's because you're "born" Jewish, maybe because it's as much about culture and ethnicity as it is about religion, but whatever the case may be, they typically talk about their religion in the most nonchalant ways... I have never had the impression that they are interested in converting folks to their religion. The Jewish people I know don't really care what you think. It makes them very pleasant to speak to, in my experience.

Every holiday for me is about the food, to be honest. Would you look at these potato latkes? They were delish! With sour cream and applesauce, too!





Amy routinely busts out amazing meals for twenty of your closest friends like it's absolutely nothing at all. She whipped up a hundred latkes in between wrangling the kids, tripping over dogs, and keeping everybody's wine glass full. She's alright, I guess. :)




Brisket tastes good.







Amy helps the kids light the menorah candles. Love wee-little A_____ peering over the shoulder there!






After the candles were lit, the kids read round-robin style from a Hannukah primer brought over by Mike's sister. It was pretty cute! Then they sat around talking about what it meant, to believe that even one person can make a big difference. The kids brought up the example of taking care of the environment. Which led to a semi-political, certainly progressive, rant on the issues of the day, from health care reform to climate change, to the war in Afghanistan to who-knows-what.

Which totally reminded me of something that my dear Maia's friend Julie told me at a dinner before Maia's wedding. Julie lives in New York, and I thought she was fab. [Edited three sentences because, according to Erik, "I don't know how the internet works." :)]

Anyway, I was grilling Julie on 'all things Jewish' and she was right there, good to go. One of the things she said was that when they go to the synagogue, they get a passage to study for the week. Families are encouraged to spend the week reading about the passage, arguing about what it means, and debating its application to their lives. She said you are actually encouraged to not accept it at face value, but rather to wrestle into your lives as a real and highly tested idea. So unexpected! Anyway, what she said after that cracked me up: "That's why you see so many Jewish lawyers; we've been debating, arguing, and calling out over each other our whole lives." Heh. I can't remember if she's a lawyer or not, but that's so cute, regardless.

So I can't say I was surprised by the (nearly complete) lack of religious talk, but rather a spirited political debate, to bring in the evening meal. Amy had little canvas bags for the kids to decorate for their "gelt" (chocolate gold coins and dreidels!) and a little craft present for each of the kids, too.



It was so fun! I totally cleaned all the pots, pans, and dishes, which I will totally do when you feed me, too. It's my way of saying, "Thank you." And also, "Feed me some more." haha Totally not kidding.

You Lose!

Yesterday was my birthday...and how rad is Facebook for such an occasion?!? I usually experience a sort of "16 Candles" kind of birthday, where the passing of another year is a secret, easily forgotten by even me. Instead, I logged into Facebook tonight and dozens of "Happy Day" messages were there...each exactly suited to the person making the wish! Some were funny, some sweet, others wistful...What a treat.

Tommy is at a sleepover tonight (his first one, not including sleeping at my parents' house!) and so we're missing him so much, but we're also enjoying soaking up our boy, Scotty. Without an older brother to override him, he's really shining this evening. He's making jokes, telling stories, and generally being even more Scotty than ever!

Tommy taught him a game that my Grandma Mary plays with him...she says "I love you" and he answers "I love you too!" She says, "I love you three" and he answers "I love you four". Then she "wins" by saying "I love you MORE!" and he loves that game.

Tonight, Scotty and I played the game and it sounded like this:
Mommy: I love you!
Scotty: I love you too!
Mommy: I love you three!
Scotty: I love you four!
Mommy: I love you MORE!
Scotty: I love YOU more! Ha! YOU LOSE!!!

Hmmmm...that's the kind of losing that I need a lot more of. It certainly made day three of a ridonkulous migraine bearable... Barely.

Cold

(Pond with a sheet of ice!)






This morning, I broke off a sheet of ice that had formed on the koi pond.






It was thick enough to bring a piece into the house, where I made Erik poke his head out of the shower to look at it before I photographed it on the counter. It's a sickness.





After de-icing my car, I drove to work...wearing tights, two pairs of socks, jeans, a thermal undershirt, a long sleeved shirt, a fleece jacket, a hat, scarf, and both fingerless mitts and mittens. I walked in to find my partner, similarly bundled, typing on her laptop. And yet. And yet my kids are in short sleeves and barefeet. These kids just have a totally different internal thermostat!

Despite their inability to feel cold (or pain...or fear....ai ai ai...being mama to boys is exhausting!) it is cold here! And you know what that means..a basketful of yarn has been my constant companion, with three projects on the needles and two with the hook, too!

Did I mention the cold?

:: Making Me Smile ::

:: Tommy yelling, "You got pwned by a baby!!!" when Scotty was sassing Erik.

:: Tommy and Scotty sitting in front of a fire tonight...Tommy was explaining that Santa would be coming down the fireplace, and this is how it happens, and then he eats some cookies, and he leaves us presents....and Scotty listening intently, nodding, picturing it all, I'm sure.

:: Burgermeister Meisterburger

:: Snow! Snow! All over Mission Peak and the Santa Cruz mountains! Snow from Berkeley to Walnut Creek to Danville to Pleasanton and Fremont too! It's SO COLD here! Every time I walk outside, it feels like I'm camping. :) (And I don't just mean this in the "I'm-a-pansy-California-girl" kind of way, either. :P )

:: Putting up our tree and enjoying the dozens of ornaments adorning the edge, just exactly where little arms can stretch to.

Jeez Louise

I crocheted a blanket for Erik back in...um....1993? I think so. It was back when I all I knew how to crochet was a simple shell pattern (5 double crochets per shell) and I cranked out 6 or 7 baby blankets, plus his blue striped blanket.




He's been bugging me for about a year now to mend a place where there was a hole, and to please make it more cozy by adding a denim backing and a layer of quilting cotton. On the last post I wrote (right before my laptop stopped working ~ thankfully an easy fix of a new cord, and a cheap fix of my mom had an extra cord that worked!) he wrote a comment ~ and let's point out now that it was his one and only comment on this blog! ~ that he would boycott the blog until the blanket was done.

I can't blame him...something always seems to come up!

Anyway, I finished it in a few hours over a few days, and I thought it might be worth noting that you can sew a crocheted blanket! Is this news? It kind of was to me, the first time I did it. I've been hand sewing linings into bags for years, but the idea the you could essentially "quilt" a crocheted blanket using the tied quilt method was something I figured out on a lark when I made Maia's blanket last year. I just decided to sew through the crochet, using a sewing machine, and it works like a charm.

For this blanket, I laid down a denim backing (right side up), and taped that to the ground. Then I laid down the blanket, and taped that down, matching all the edges. The batting came last, and taped that down, matching all the edges. I didn't bother doing any measuring, I just laid it all down, matched corners/edges, and then trimmed it all. I didn't cut the crocheted blanket at all, I just cut the other two pieces to match it.

I then safety pinned the entire blanket around, about an inch and a half from the edge. I made a simple seam, through all three layers, and left about a two foot opening down one side... huge opening! Huge. Unnecessarily large, really, but I didn't want to wrestle with it, so I don't regret it. I easily turned the blanket (between the denim and the crocheted blanket) and pushed out the corners. Then I closed the opening by folding in the seam and using a whipstitch. Then just use embroidery thread through all three layers, tying off every 6 inches (more like 12 inches for me...I like the push the envelope!). Here's a handy tip for tying quilts that I use and like; it's about not cutting the pieces you're using for tying until the very end. You know, I didn't even bind the edges, because sewing the seams and the turning it inside out left such a nice finish all on it's own.

The blanket hasn't left his side. He carries it from room to room with him.

I do feel a little bit bad...you know, for waiting so long to do it...but I'm ready to move on. :)

[Edited: Pictures of Erik removed for marriage maintenance purposes....though I personally think he's adorable, a handsome duck, always and forever. However, I did get a picture of the blanket, which Kitty obviously loves, very much. And cats know cozy! Plus, I can tell by her regal expression that she thinks she looks fabulous.]

T'is the Season!

I am making some presents this holiday season. I'm trying to keep to a few small, homemade gifts. I have two big projects I'm working on, and I've committed to hat/scarf/mitten sets for my kids and my nieces (we're heading to the snow over Christmas!), but everything else...well, I'm trying to live in "a flexible frame". (Can you name the movie that comes from?!?)


Kenny and Kelly were at the tamale party (as they are, every year) and every time Kelly and I spend some time together, we both go away wondering why we don't spend more time together. She appreciates homemade-ness more than just about anybody I know. Her kids? Her husband? Even she herself? All ridiculously attractive. Obnoxiously so. But I like them so much, I can't even hold it against them. haha! Seriously.

I had taken these pictures of their kids while making tamales, so I used them (printed onto my last sheet of fabric paper!) to make ornaments for their Christmas tree.

Then I whipped up my favorite Starling Handbag (free pattern here!) for their daughter, Kate. I love her style so much! She wears double buns and skirts (exclusively) with red patent-leather clogs and cardigans. Oh, stop it.




I lined the bag with a festive yellow daisy print. I think it's just perfect for a little girl. Or a big girl. :)

Weekend ~ Thanks Giving

I just had five days off. Tuesday night was the dinner party, Wednesday was the zoo. Thursday was Thanksgiving dinner at my mom's house.

"Mom, what's up for Thanksgiving?" Same question, every year.
"I'll be here. You can come." Same answer, every year. That woman loves Thanksgiving, and there is never, no never, any discussion about rotating houses, potlucking, or any other change in venue. Do you want to go to a cabin? Head out on a cruise? Host your own dinner? Go for it! My mom will be home, cooking her turkey. Period.

The kids' table at my mom's house was absolutely the place to be! It was a party in the kitchen.






I love this man, so much. Those laugh lines, around his eyes, slay me. Always laughing...I get that from him! We both love to laugh, and the art of a good story will never go unappreciated while we are around.




Early this week, making the blanket consumed all my time, but by Friday I had sent it on its way, the holiday was over, and I got to catch my breath. I cleaned the house, cooked a turkey and some mashed potatoes (what?! I wanted leftovers!), worked in the yards for a bit, and generally spent the day nesting and enjoying a thunder and lightning storm from the comfort of our front window.

By Saturday, I was feeling like my gosh, I can't believe I still have two whole more days! Two days! Still! I'm so relaxed, so caught up, so content! Saturday night we had dinner at the home of Tommy's very best friend. Then we split up, Erik taking Tommy to the space and science center for a planetarium show and telescope visit.


I took Scotty over to Dana and Shawn's house for the yearly tamale-making party. So fun! The tamales are cooked then frozen (except for what we eat for dinner that night!) and then they get eaten at the big Christmas Eve celebration.




On Sunday, Tommy and I got up early and went with my parents to visit Gram.







Such a happy ending to such a wonderful looooonnnnnnggggg weekend!

Somehow, by Sunday night, I couldn't believe I had to go back to work on Monday. No! Don't let it end! What had felt so ample and decadent on Friday, suddenly, two days later, felt truncated and rushed. Five days of friends, family, good food, good times...I wouldn't change a minute. I just need some more minutes just like that.

Time Tunnel

I met Kate in 6th grade. Instant and complete devotion, as I recall. This picture (taken by, I think, Scotty!) pretty much sums it up. Laughing, always laughing.






Her family (including three of the cutest kids you'll ever want to meet!) lives 5 hours away. I don't see them nearly enough for my tastes. But. When I do see them? It's just like I saw them yesterday. You know what I mean?








It doesn't matter if we talked last week, last year, or last who-can-remember-when. Seeing her is like stepping into a time tunnel, where years become instants.







Our kids (each as dorky as their mothers!) immediately teamed up with each other, against us. That's alright. We can handle that.










We got to spend the day at the zoo, on the day before Thanksgiving. We haven't spoken in two years (what?!? I can't believe it! I mean, even for us!). In typical fashion, I received a text message on Monday night..."Kate and the G___ kids will be at the zoo Wednesday. Want to hang out?"

I typed "Hells yeah!" back and there really wasn't much more to say. Love her. Love them.


More pictures, should you be interested, can be found here.

Hateful. Grateful. Full of Love.

Last Sunday, my mom and I went up to Healdsburg to visit her best friend (my godmother), Marie (Mimi, to friends and fam). I wasn't sure what to expect. A phone call from Mimi's granddaughter to my mom just a few days before that let us know that she has "4th stage lung cancer".

I hate cancer. Cancer took my Grandma Dot and my Aunt Patty. It took my Grandpa George before I even got to meet him. Cancer took my Grandma Mary's mom, when Gram was just 11 years old. Cancer took my childhood friend, Anthony. Cancer takes siblings and husbands and wives and sisters. Cancer takes what cancer wants, and I hate cancer.

On Sunday, I took 200 pictures and an hour of video, tucked in the corner while Mimi and my mom laughed, hugged, teared, and shared. She's still Mimi. Cancer can't take love, or hope, or memories, or the touch of a hand.

When we left last weekend, Mimi sent me home with a suitcase full of her own memories, in the form of clothing...worn by her husband (my godfather) who past last November from diabetic complications. (I hate diabetes, too. I am hateful.) She and Glenn had been living in Hawaii for many years, and these were, I dare say, the happiest of her life. As she pulled out the typical Hawaiian shirts (think Magnum, PI!), she had a story for each one. I couldn't quite watch, as my mental images were all around my mom having to leave the room just days after Glenn's funeral (of course she got on a plane and flew to Mimi's side) because she couldn't bear to watch Mimi packing these shirts, pausing on each one, and here we were, a year later, his smell and her tears forever part of that fabric, and I pasted a small smile on my face and nodded and hmmed over each story, because who would it serve for me to break and down and cry (the way I really wanted to) to leave the room (the way I really wanted to) and so instead, I started mentally cataloguing the stories....sorting them into piles as she passed them over to me...the creative process taking over and soothing my heart, because what she wanted was a blanket, made from these clothes, and this I can do.

(ps...I'm sorry, you'll just have to to deal with the above paragraph! I cannot bear to re-read it for editing, so if it's raw and rambling and disjointed...so it must be because that's what I am right now, too.)

On Monday night, I lugged in that suitcase from my Mommy-Van and I spent several late hours (after putting my kids to bed) cutting and ripping seams and arranging and re-arranging and cutting some more and ironing. I dragged the sewing machine, a folding table, and the iron out into the living room and set up a make-shift sweat shop for one. By Tuesday night, my living room looked like this.

And I had a crying hangover and my nerves were jagged and I called my mom and told her I didn't think I had the emotional strength to do this.





My original plan was to spend all my non-working, non-kid-caretaking hours on this project, so my mom could take it back to Mimi when she went up to visit today. But then there was the birthday party Tuesday night and a last minute Zoo Date with my own childhood friend and her three kids (and they live 5 hours away, and I NEVER get to see them, and hello, perspective, I'll not be missing that) on Wednesday...

And by Wednesday morning, I'd 'only' gotten this far. And I have NO IDEA what I'm doing. I'm a total novice sewer in the first place, and I have absolutely NO design background at all. I'm using cotton jerseys and linens and rayons with total abandon and no regard for my sewing machine or my sanity.

Emotionally and physically spent, I forged on.

Mimi's daughter Jenny emailed me a couple of photos, including this one. Could you just swoon?! Mimi and Glenn, I'm guessing they are about 20 years old in this photo. I printed this picture (and another, taken just a few years ago) onto photo fabric, and then used them both as blocks in the quilt.



This center block section (all outlined with the black fabric from one tank top and parts of two Hawaiian shirts ~ plus subsidized by a pair of black pants that no longer fit Tommy) includes t-shirts from their daughter and their son, plus a t-shirt from Jenny's first husband (and, therefore, with the same name as their two grandchildren) an "everyone loves an Italian girl" t-shirt my mom sent Marie some years ago, and a pair of shorts that Glenn LIVED in.

The shorts are these crazy tropical fish, and I was able to use the pocket of the shorts (which sit in the very center of the quilt top) to tuck in a tiny picture of them.





The picture is printed on fabric paper and then attached with a ribbon. I made it interchangeable, as I was hoping to get a third picture from Jenny, but in the end had to use one of the two that are also their own blocks. Someday, I may get a proper third photo, and this can be changed out when I do.



At some point, and I can't remember exactly when this happen, the entire project went from "my worst emotional nightmare" to "pleasant preoccupation". Something about putting it all back together, about using the cult of get it done, released me and I really began to enjoy this. I was thinking a lot about my cousin Kelly's Thanksgiving idea during the making of this quilt, and though I couldn't bring myself to say that she'll be thankful for me doing this (I'm just too humble for that!), I was able to think of it as a service project, something that I would turn over to it's rightful owner in due time, and that must go with a spirit of love and giving, not burden and angst. I wanted to embue this cloth with the proper energy, and soon I was really enjoying the project. (I am grateful.)


On Thanksgiving, after supper, I made the backing on my mom's sewing machine. I used green flannel (her favorite color) and some fabric she sent with me that she had brought with her from the island. I zig-zagged (the logo portion of) three t-shirts that Glenn loved to wear down the strip of tropical fabric.


Then I printed (also onto fabric) "Glenn and Marie A Love Story" and sewed that onto the backing as well. And it is! Married young, they had two children. They divorced, and Glenn had another child and Marie also had two more. Other marriages and relationships took place, but they were always (despite the divorce) the best of friends and totally devoted to their children. When Mimi and my mom turned 50, they visited Glenn in Kauai. And, with new eyes, it may well have been the start of the new beginning that became their RE-marriage several years later. True love, always.

I kept the 'theme' on the back by using a particular three t-shirts. These shirts, to me, represent the TRUE LOVE of a real marriage...one that travels across time and space and endures... one that doesn't judge...that revels in the differences between a man and a woman, and doesn't care what anybody on the outside, looking in, might have to say about what goes on between any two people who have made a commitment... these are what Mimi called "Glenn's booby shirts" and one is a wife-beater style tank from a local bar/crab shack, and the other two are from a surfboard company, featuring buxom island babes, with such catchy phrases as "nice papayas" and "ride a woody" (board brand) and I'm sorry, but only true love makes you save those in a box for 12 months and 3000 miles.

After coming home from Thanksgiving dinner, I basted the three layers of the quilt, and bound the edges in basic black. I just machine sewed the binding. (I was so happy with the outcome! The blanket isn't too thick, with Warm and Natural batting on the inside, so it didn't pucker or purse at all (which totally happened when I tried to machine stitch both sides of a binding on a crocheted blanket I did before, because it was just too thick). I've machine stitched the underside, then hand stitched the blind hem to finish off projects before, which I like, so I wasn't sure about machine stitching BOTH sides of the binding. I only did it for time (I finished this thing at two thirty this morning!) and I was very very pleased with the finished look. Yay!

Here we go. There's the center block, and the photo blocks, and all the other blocks are made up from Hawaiian race running t-shirts and Hawaiian opera t-shirts, and Hawaiian sports bars, and honu-Hawaiian shirts, all of which represented ~ to Mimi ~ their wonderful life in paradise, and I used the cut-up Magnum PI shirts (plus one dressier outfit Marie loved that Glenn bought her while they lived there) to make all sashings and borders.


I carefully folded the blanket (secretly, how shocked was I when all the edges matched and the corners squared up, even during folding?) and strapped it back into the suitcase that she had used to pack up all the clothing. My mom picked it up on her way to Mimi's house just a few hours ago. (I am full of love.)



I hope she likes it, as much as I liked making it for her.

Celebrate

Oh, my wonderful, beautiful, special (not so little any more!) girl... sigh! I love her so. Miss Maddie came into our lives twelve years ago. Twelve! She is the daughter of my dear friend Mari. This week, I'm understanding more than ever what it means to be able to look across the table at a family-friendly pub, and talk and laugh with my two friends that I've loved since middle school ~ and their families! ~ and My Maddie completes that circle of love.









She is the oldest of all our children, and she is such a good sport! All four of the youngers insist on mauling her, at all times. She patiently waits to have chocolate smeared fingers removed from her clothes and hair, and never-ever-ever complains.

I love when we're on holiday together, and Maddie gets to come over for a play date...not for the kids, but for me! Maddie and I both love horses and making things, and she's the best co-pilot for running errands.









So, Mari and Dana and I, with our five kids, and only two of our husbands (we missed Shawn!) spent most of last night laughing and catching up (in between corralling the kids, mopping up spills, referee-ing squabbles, and defending Maddie from the onslaught of love) and there's no place I'd rather have been.