don't let the door hit ya on the behind, 2019

Now, that is just so unfair to a year. But I will be so very glad to see the backside of 2019. Sure, I'm still going to be dealing with the same life and same challenges. But let us hope the worst is behind us. Fingers crossed.

Be kind, please 2020. I really need it.

Relief Map

This log-cabin block was a practice piece for machine quilting with a walking foot. Embellished with beads, embroidery floss and perle cotton thread.

Cat tested and approved.

Inspired By

For a quilt contest (which I didn't enter), this log-cabin block was inspired by the leaf shapes and colors in an intricately pieced quilt from the 1800s. Quilt includes cotton, denim and polyester fabrics decorated with vintage, glass and antler beads, thread and embroidery floss.

This is the inspiration piece, from quiltalliance.org.

Oo-La-La

Born from a crazy quilt class assignment several years ago, this quilt marks my return to beadwork as well as an introduction to working with ribbon. Mr. Crabby Pants says I never know when to stop, and the embellishments here are no exception. I’m surprised, though, to find that people looking at it live and touching seem to enjoy discovering the various stitches.

It will serve as a reference piece as I work on 3 more pieces this size (after I chopped the original in quarters), one of which Mom wants me to create for her as a living room pillow.

Oo-La-La

...to keep us free

Collaboration

I cut out the flannel, and my niece arranged the squares. This was for her favorite teacher's newborn last spring. My niece hand wrote the "signature" patch. It is in super close-up because I wanted a shot of how the quilting looked on the back.

Farewell, Mr. Van

We knew the van's days were numbered, but we didn't know how few! DH was the middle car in a three-car crash in a construction area yesterday. He is uninjured, it seems -- other than some leg pain. He was braking hard, we think. He was the only one who didn't opt for an ambulance ride. He was stopped in traffic when the woman behind him rear-ended him, going ~30 -- and pushed him into the car ahead. He says our car is 1 foot shorter now.

Count the moves

before 1987 - 1 house
1987 - Dorms
1988 - Home for summer
1988-1989 - Brown townhouse
1989-1990 - Blue townhouse
1990-1991 - home
1991-1992 - attic apartment
1992-1993 - Stickney
1994 - Boulder hostel
1994-1995 - Lakewood apartment
1995 - R's house by Columbine Steakhouse
1995 - PS tent
1995 - PS house
1996-1999? - R's house by Columbine Steakhouse
1999?-2003 - Stuart house
2003-2005 - Willowbrook
2005-2016 - Brookfield apartment
2016-20??? - Casa Sweet Casa

Proofreading poetry

In my undergraduate days, I had an editing job on the college literary magazine. Like so many things from that era of Right and Wrong Answers, I thought I could apply copy-editing guidelines to our poetry submissions.

A guy named Randy (I think) became frustrated and shouty when I tried to edit a poem following my favorite rules – consistency, grammar and proper spelling. The poem was an allegory for life and shooting craps. I wanted to spell “dice” the same way throughout the poem, getting rid of the poet’s alternate “dies,” clearly a mistake.

I don’t even remember what Randy said, something along the lines of “that’s not how poetry works” and “you can’t mess with the poet’s words.” My comma rules ruined the pauses and flow and and and. He gave an exasperated explanation that the spelling of “dies” played with the theme of death.

D’oh. And duh. And light bulb.

My brain exploded.

In that pissed-off moment, he taught me more about poetry – reading and writing it – than I’d ever learned in school (before or after). In that moment, I learned about word choice and line breaks and climbing inside the writer’s head.

Memories of my dad

My dad passed away at age 77 around 11 p.m. on December 10, 2014. I miss him a lot. 

He liked cinnamon rolls and root beer floats and popcorn. He hated cooked spinach and soggy bread.

His little girls would ask "wiggle your ears, Daddy," but he wouldn't. Until we looked away and looked back out of the corner of an eye and caught him.

He wove doilies in his free time in the army. And fixed helicopters. He took photos of tulips in Holland. He loved his '57 Chevy.

He hated plumbing and electrical work. He was a carpenter. He brainstormed designs aloud, sketching on paper napkins during dinner, explaining how the pieces went together. He always had a pen in his pocket.

He made sure we had wiper fluid in our cars. And called us to the back window to watch a sunset.

Glow pops?

What the heck is with the super-white teeth in my profile picture? Like any minute, blinding laser rays will come pouring out. Where did that come from?

Farewell glowing mouth, hello frog hat.

Paczki Power

Donuts, fried and filled. Mmm.

What a lovely day with my honey. I took an impromptu mental health day and got lunch and a paczki run out of the deal.

A quilt for "Maui"

My sister and brother-in-law went through a bit of trouble before then had my niece. Not as bad as some, not as easy as most. And when my sister got pregnant, the specialist informed her the family trip to Hawaii was a no-go. Somehow, the wee one in her belly became "Maui" for casual reference.

So, this is Maui's Hawaii-themed quilt. She'll be 10 this fall, and it's a little small for the tall girlie she is becoming. 

The quilt is foundation-pieced on muslin blocks using the technique from Barbara Randle's "Crazy Quilting with Attitude" -- if not her colors! Most of the fabric was purchased at quiltfabric.com in two of the store's earlier locations.

Love this vintage-look Hawaiian-themed fabric on the back. I think it was a thrift-store find. My sister and bro-in-law love antiques and mid-century modern, so I thought the old postcards reproduced on the back would be perfect for their taste.



I borrowed a fancy-stitch disk from my mom's 1960s Singer and to use in my 1960s machine for the decorative stitches in the sashing. Maybe the ties were overkill, but I figured a baby would love to touch them, and I didn't want the quilt to fall apart! 

The rest of these stunning photos are quadrants of the blocks, so I have the images captured for posterity. I did a weird mix of 1930s ('40s?) repro prints, batiks and odds 'n' ends from my stash. I think it works?

You can see in the picture above that the backing fabric was folded over to become the border. That's what I discovered my maternal grandmother did with her quilts, along with tying them. The batting was an old flannel sheet. My aunt or mom said that's what their mom used. I liked that the new kiddo would have a quilt constructed like her great-grandma used to make them.

Em's Icara

I made this oodles of years ago (8 or 9?) when a favorite artist-poet-actor-goddess of mine moved south to return to the family fold. I worried how the quilt held up over the years after hearing a terrifying cautionary tale about the dangers of tying quilts. And I've worried how permanent the indelible fabric pen was too.

She was kind enough to send a photo in situ. 

The quilt has a quote from the Icarus story in Edith Hamilton's "Mythology":
"Escape may be checked by water and land, but the air and the sky are free."

And my photo of the front back in June 2006. Woo-hoo! Better with time.

Here's the back. What you can't see from this crappy, crappy photo is that the white ties appear as stars against a sky. The "signature patch" is inspired by Matisse' "Icarus." I free-handed it on a napkin at a restaurant to show my then-boyfriend what I was going for. He helped me blow up the image at a Kinko's and we figured out how to adhere it to the back long enough for me to hand-stitch it on.

A little closer look at the label. Is that...writing...on the legs?

Is this about the time you're saying, "Wait, didn't Icarus crash and burn? You know, when he tried to fly too high?" I have always called baloney sausage on that story. Oh, I'm sure it served a specific purpose or was a modern-day meme for the ancient Greeks. But it's never worked well for me in our world. When we rise above our troubles, we soar, dangnabbit.

And, you know, Icarus was a boy, Em is a girl. So, this one became Icara, which, in my firm belief, is the feminine Greek ending for the Icarus. Please do not attempt to dissuade me otherwise.

Here's the haiku for Icara, I mean Em. 

but when she rises

and finds freedom in her wings,

she consumes the sun