Nov 21, 2014
The leaves have fallen off their pretty perches.
Sometimes on by one and sometimes all at once.
But fall they will.
I find it so natural to celebrate the change and honor the actions of each season.
This one, Autumn, makes me want to wander and admire the tree rainbows and gather its plumage to bring inside with me.
I feel a primal urge to relate and recreate the season’s offerings.
And thus the primitive painting of the leaves.
And the creation of a mobile to flutter above the heat vent as a performance art piece.
Until Fiona goes over and begins to yank them down.
And brings them to me.
She’s collecting the leaves too I suppose.
Nov 19, 2014
So I have this not good thing about sewing. We all have our things. And sewing is one of mine.
Sewing and I used to be like this. But then several factors helped to make it a thing.
#1 – My husband got me a new machine at some point which was a nice thing but the new machine is so inferior to my hand-me-down thrift store machines of yore. Sigh.
#2 – My son then touched the buttons and knobs at least twice obliterating all tension settings. And now I can never seem to get a decent stitch.
# 3 – My mom likes to sew and thereby proves a theory I have. Women who’s Mom’s sew don’t like it much and women who’s Mom’s never sewed are sewing enthusiasts. (She helped with the chandelier chain covers and recovered pillows for Eamon’s room make over.) It’s a mother daughter punk out thing. If they want you to, you don’t want to.
Curtains have yet to be made for Fiona’s room. Remember the first Fiona’s Womb Room post and the three bay windows? I’ve come up with nothing. She naps just fine in the bright daylight so my excuse has been that I just can’t figure out what design I wanted. Until this week.
I was finally helped out of the think box by none other than my Mom. It turned out that the convoluted plans I had to make do with my two thrifted curtain panels were really unnecessary since I in fact did have enough fabric to not have to piece anything together.
Here’s my inspiration pictures for the window treatment for Fiona’s room redesign.
Project Kid Blogger Amanda Kingloff’s DIY baby’s room
From SF Girl By the Bay blog, those pink rods above the bay windows !
Here’s me hard at work today.
There was a lot of resistance at first. Excuses that always get in the way are
#1 – the baby was going to be napping and my craft room is next to her room.
#2 – The craft room is cramped for sewing purposes.
#3 – I have to measure. Ugh.
#4 – Tension problems, see above number list.
Then I just moved the sewing machine and ironing board downstairs to spread out. So now I kinda had to do it. But my brain futilely fought. Irritated with this chore I’d so skillfully managed to put off for these past 2 years, my brain didn’t want to think for several minutes. But I had made a promise to myself that I’d do my darndest to finish by this weekend when my friend comes for dinner. And drove over the toes of my resistance.
Here’s all the cats and children participating.
Mr. Crackers posing on the Thinking Chair with the curtain fabric. Miss Chessie had to be tossed off the table like four times. And Fiona snagged the foot pedal and dragged it and the extension cord around the house.
The painting and these curtains were my breakthrough tasks. Almost there finally. Of course you know, while trying to finish these curtains off with a nice top stitch three inches in from the edge, I ran out of thread and the stitch then got messed up again. But perseverance actually makes you feel better about yourself where giving up does not. Stay tuned for the upcoming results.
Nov 17, 2014
Don’t stop me if I’ve told you this because I’m going somewhere different with it today. A thoughtful and somewhat sad place but I can’t stop thinking about it.
I started blogging with truly no clue about blogging. I did it because someone I knew said I should. I’d never really even read a blog. And I just began. What’s followed is a lot of blood, sweat , and tantrums.
I have stayed the course though and am glad I did because of the growth I have experienced both as a writer and as a human being who needed to prove my worth and the value of human connection. But you don’t get to enjoy the lessons unless you go the distance.
This can be a very solitary practice. So many sources of input vying for your attention that I feel lucky if anyone reads my blog. Please don’t feel bad that you don’t comment either. Those that can do. Purposes of entertainment are personal to everyone. And I can remember being reluctant to comment once too.
I have been online now long enough to see some of my fellow bloggers discontinue their blogging. One gal got a full-time job. Two just sort of stopped publishing posts and show up to “like” something every once in a while. But the one that upset me the most was a gal who I almost met this past Summer at the Blog U conference. She committed blog suicide.
I was just about to write a piece on how upset I was about her abrupt disappearance when Robin Williams took his life. And the death of this wonderful and beloved man seemed too tragic to even use the word suicide in any other context. But I do feel a kind of concern for this gal’s welfare and here’s why.
There’s a community here online and when you connect with people, they’re just like the people you know from your everyday life. Like your mail carrier or your bus driver. They make you happy when they chat with you. But then what if you heard them start to say that you were so pretty and that they could never consider themselves pretty. Or that you were smart and they just knew they were dumb. And then one day they were missing from their job permanently.
This gal praised me and I was so flattered but I felt that shift into implosion. Suggestions of unhappiness and unworthiness and anxiety. And then wham, she was missing. She had deleted her blog address and all of her social media outlets. I wanted to scream out, why? One of ours was gone. Many of us new bloggers have felt that wavering doubt of that first year of blogging. I understand low self-esteem so well. I comprehend comparing myself to other bloggers and writers (and designers) and feeling crappy about me. And I guess I am reminded again of how I love doing this and how tenuous our bonds with others really are.
So Jean, if you are still reading my blog, know that I heard your distress and felt absolutely powerless to help you. I did notice you go missing. I am not a more talented a blogger or writer or mother than you are. I hope that you and your children are well and looking forward to a happy holiday season. And that if you ever needed an ear or anything I have to give you, I am still here. Imprisoned in this box but also out in the world contributing my soul and gathering happiness anyway I can.