Baby Girl Quilt
Baby Boy Quilt
Finished size is 36"x42". Machine washable, tumble-dry low.
Showing posts with label quilt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label quilt. Show all posts
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Aww, so sweet
Baby on the way? Friend expecting? Headed to a shower and haven't got a clue what to buy? Here's two baby quilts I've been working on. I hope to have them on the etsy site by this weekend with a bonus buy for quick shoppers. Early birds get the worm!
Baby Girl Quilt
Baby Boy Quilt
Finished size is 36"x42". Machine washable, tumble-dry low.
Baby Girl Quilt
Baby Boy Quilt
Finished size is 36"x42". Machine washable, tumble-dry low.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Mustache Cash-Stash
Commissioned quilt for GB's mom. Well, actually for her eldest daughter.
All folded up
On the bed
Sissy wanted to pose with the quilt
Just reminding my readers that I also do commissioned quilts. Don't ask GB's mom how long this one took me. I'll tell you, TOO long. I had extenuating circumstances impeding my progress but she was obliging and understanding. I promise to keep to reasonable deadlines in the future.
Visit my Etsy store (see link on right sidebar) or email me using the profile link. If you've got something in mind, perhaps we can put our heads together so I can create an product you will love.
Not interested in purchasing a quilt but want to contribute? I will still gladly accept your cast-off fabrics or unused batting and threads. There is still a large portion of AB's dental bill to pay off.
Speaking of AB, he woke up bright-eyed and cheery this morning. With his mustache filling in quickly and now some hair showing up on his chin, he is excited but apprehensive about entering manhood. "Mom. I have hair on my chin."
"Would you like to start shaving now?"
"NO! I like it!"
"Would you like to start shaving now?"
"NO! I like it!"
"Ok."
We piled into the van and he was tapping and squealing. "Mustache cash-stash! Mustache cash-stash! Mustache cash-stash! I LIKE it!" *giggle giggle giggle*
That boy cracks me up.
And Sissy, after the past few days of ugh-omg-is-she-going-to-keep-spiralling-downward?! she was gaily watching the neighbor's work crew scrape off their old roof while she ate her breakfast. WG asked her what she was looking at and without missing a beat, Sissy said, "they're just up on the roof for the view."
Guess they all just needed extra sleep because wow, last night was rough and we all sacked out early (their bedtimes as a consequence mine as a result of managing three wild kids). We left for school this morning, everyone happy, Sissy begging to be allowed to work on the neighbor's roof, WG dragging my hairbrush to groom in the van and AB giggling over mustache cash-stash.
Onward and upward.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
AWAY!
Away I go, off to the annual quilt retreat with the kids' bio-grandma. (AKA - Noni). Three nights and three days of quilted bliss.
I shall be returning with goodies for some Orlando moms that have commissioned I Spy quilts, among many other things. Stay tuned because I will be making some items available for sale on e.bay. (That $900 orthodontic bill for AB looms large) [1]
The director/administrator of our quilter's group was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. I made her a surprise. I can't wait to give it to her tonight! [2]
I leave AB and WG in the capable hands of The Dad. We all know Grace won't miss me. Probably won't even notice that I'm gone. Crazy dog. Oh, that reminds me! I have to pick up her dog food before I head out of town! (The Dad recently discovered how exasperating it is to take AB shopping. I'll be kind and spare him the hassle of a grocery store run with AB in tow.)
I gave Sissy a quick call this morning since I'll be missing her evening calls. Well, that is, when she calls. I like calling in the morning because it catches her off guard. She's always tongue-tied so I get to chat it up all happy and chipper and tell her I love her and she's too sleepy or irritated from morning routines to rebuff. I'm a sly dog that way! Gotta get in all the love now while I can (and while she's too far away to get me back with RADilicious behaviors.)
[1]AB's dental appliance is working quickly. He just might be one lucky boy and get it removed next Wednesday. But I'm not saying a word just in case I'm wrong. Besides, I guiltily admit, if he only wears it for two weeks, I'm going to be thinking that it was an expensive two weeks!
[2]The "pink ribbon" bag (and yes, I plan to make more because I suspect it's going to generate lots of interest.) It has a four inch flat bottom base and stands 18 inches tall. Free-hand quilted with the pink ribbon symbol. One interior pocket perfect for keys. Size is intentional to tote comforts from home that will be soothing during treatment (blanket, neck pillow, beverage, bible, hoodie, etc.)
I shall be returning with goodies for some Orlando moms that have commissioned I Spy quilts, among many other things. Stay tuned because I will be making some items available for sale on e.bay. (That $900 orthodontic bill for AB looms large) [1]
The director/administrator of our quilter's group was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. I made her a surprise. I can't wait to give it to her tonight! [2]
I leave AB and WG in the capable hands of The Dad. We all know Grace won't miss me. Probably won't even notice that I'm gone. Crazy dog. Oh, that reminds me! I have to pick up her dog food before I head out of town! (The Dad recently discovered how exasperating it is to take AB shopping. I'll be kind and spare him the hassle of a grocery store run with AB in tow.)
I gave Sissy a quick call this morning since I'll be missing her evening calls. Well, that is, when she calls. I like calling in the morning because it catches her off guard. She's always tongue-tied so I get to chat it up all happy and chipper and tell her I love her and she's too sleepy or irritated from morning routines to rebuff. I'm a sly dog that way! Gotta get in all the love now while I can (and while she's too far away to get me back with RADilicious behaviors.)
[1]AB's dental appliance is working quickly. He just might be one lucky boy and get it removed next Wednesday. But I'm not saying a word just in case I'm wrong. Besides, I guiltily admit, if he only wears it for two weeks, I'm going to be thinking that it was an expensive two weeks!
[2]The "pink ribbon" bag (and yes, I plan to make more because I suspect it's going to generate lots of interest.) It has a four inch flat bottom base and stands 18 inches tall. Free-hand quilted with the pink ribbon symbol. One interior pocket perfect for keys. Size is intentional to tote comforts from home that will be soothing during treatment (blanket, neck pillow, beverage, bible, hoodie, etc.)
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Burning desire to lick a face off
She sulks. Grace, our lab, sulks. She cries, pouts and whines. She loves Daddy. Me? I'm just the human that serves her food and opens the door to the backyard. She tolerates me. Hope, the dog we lost last fall, was my dog. Grace? All Daddy's. Currently she is lying in the hallway outside our bedroom door, still sporting the cone of shame, her muzzle resting just inches from the door jamb of our bedroom. The light is still on. She must think Daddy is in the bathroom and will emerge any minute.
I've even seen her sulk and cry outside the bathroom door for him.
And last week when he was gone for a few days, she was such a wreck she went back to licking the granulomas on her right paw. Licked it raw. Hid her head and front paws under the bed (as if I couldn't see her enormous back end sticking out) and licked and licked. Thus the reason she's back in the cone of shame.
And sulking in the hallway.
It makes me want to get another dog just for me out of spite. A gesture to Grace that says, hey! I'm a good dog mommy, just so you know!!!
Life has taken such a different spin with Sissy's hospitalization this time. I've rested, gotten things done (and let other things slack off - you should see the kids' bedrooms!), loved on myself, laughed, cried, and processed. This November will mark the second anniversary of this blog and the two year mark from Sissy's first placement. Depending on how medicaid reviews her case this month, the grand total will be close to a year of the last 24 months that my daughter has been in a hospital environment, away from me, away from family, away from comforts of the home environment, away from the normalcy of every day childhood life, away from public venues, away from the standard classroom, away. The only thing that makes me nervous about her potential return the first full week in November is that she may have been away so long that she may never recoup that time.
I translate that to mean that any hope of a regular, healthy relationship with my eldest daughter is long past my grasp. It is the only thing that still gives me anxiety at this point.
Still, I know inherently that she needed to be away for her health and safety and for ours. It's so commonplace now that I hardly notice that to the outsider hearing of our story, it's actually jarring and sad. To me, it just is what it is. Strangers have had more influence on my child's life in the last two years than I have in the last 11. And we've only just begun. When she's discharged, there's no way of knowing if she'll fully escalate immediately and boomerang right back into the hospital environment. There's also the countdown to her 13th birthday, just 14 months from now, an age the state provides alternative resources and services because they are adolescents and not youths anymore. As much as I'd like to think that we're through this storm in our life, I know without a doubt that we've merely reached a cool-down.
In our cool-down, so much has changed. AB has grown so much that he is now four full inches taller than Sissy. I'm puzzled but not surprised that she hasn't grown at all since last year. AB has also come into his own at home, comfortably assuming the position of "oldest", working hard at school, being helpful at home and attempting to communicate his thoughts in a more meaningful and useful way. WG's reading level has jumped again, she's now at 6.0 grade level for reading. Her imagination is strong and despite her restrictions for school behaviors, she manages to keep herself fully occupied, many times taking it upon herself to do things for the family without being asked. Last night The Dad discovered she'd filled the wheel barrow with fallen sticks and branches for the purpose of burning in our fire pit.
I've been busy as a beaver. With unexpected birthday gift money and a recent package of fabric scraps from a reader (thanks Kathy!!!) I was finally able to seat and cover my dining room chairs, a project two years in the waiting. AB says, "they should be for a king or something" and WG said, "you're the bestest mom EVER!" I think my friends and family and readers are the bestest ever. I'm seated comfortably at my table because of you.
And I've not been shy in returning the favor. I just finished and shipped a wall hanging to another RAD mom.
Regrettably, I must admit that I've not been reading other blogs. It's not because I don't love the people I'm following, it's because I've had to concentrate on myself and my family the past few months. Reading other people's stories makes me emotional and stirs up my anxiety for what lies ahead when Sissy returns. Like Grace, I sulk and gaze forlornly at my daughter's empty room. But unlike my faithful black lab who will be rewarded in a few short hours when The Dad returns, I'm liable to meet a frothing, seething, violent storm when my daughter returns.
Two years is too long to be living on the edge of sanity with a challenged child. I'd like to hope Sissy's return will make my tail wag and thump and give me the burning desire to lick her face off but The Dad is the only one that will get that reward ... from Grace.
I've even seen her sulk and cry outside the bathroom door for him.
And last week when he was gone for a few days, she was such a wreck she went back to licking the granulomas on her right paw. Licked it raw. Hid her head and front paws under the bed (as if I couldn't see her enormous back end sticking out) and licked and licked. Thus the reason she's back in the cone of shame.
It makes me want to get another dog just for me out of spite. A gesture to Grace that says, hey! I'm a good dog mommy, just so you know!!!
Life has taken such a different spin with Sissy's hospitalization this time. I've rested, gotten things done (and let other things slack off - you should see the kids' bedrooms!), loved on myself, laughed, cried, and processed. This November will mark the second anniversary of this blog and the two year mark from Sissy's first placement. Depending on how medicaid reviews her case this month, the grand total will be close to a year of the last 24 months that my daughter has been in a hospital environment, away from me, away from family, away from comforts of the home environment, away from the normalcy of every day childhood life, away from public venues, away from the standard classroom, away. The only thing that makes me nervous about her potential return the first full week in November is that she may have been away so long that she may never recoup that time.
I translate that to mean that any hope of a regular, healthy relationship with my eldest daughter is long past my grasp. It is the only thing that still gives me anxiety at this point.
Still, I know inherently that she needed to be away for her health and safety and for ours. It's so commonplace now that I hardly notice that to the outsider hearing of our story, it's actually jarring and sad. To me, it just is what it is. Strangers have had more influence on my child's life in the last two years than I have in the last 11. And we've only just begun. When she's discharged, there's no way of knowing if she'll fully escalate immediately and boomerang right back into the hospital environment. There's also the countdown to her 13th birthday, just 14 months from now, an age the state provides alternative resources and services because they are adolescents and not youths anymore. As much as I'd like to think that we're through this storm in our life, I know without a doubt that we've merely reached a cool-down.
In our cool-down, so much has changed. AB has grown so much that he is now four full inches taller than Sissy. I'm puzzled but not surprised that she hasn't grown at all since last year. AB has also come into his own at home, comfortably assuming the position of "oldest", working hard at school, being helpful at home and attempting to communicate his thoughts in a more meaningful and useful way. WG's reading level has jumped again, she's now at 6.0 grade level for reading. Her imagination is strong and despite her restrictions for school behaviors, she manages to keep herself fully occupied, many times taking it upon herself to do things for the family without being asked. Last night The Dad discovered she'd filled the wheel barrow with fallen sticks and branches for the purpose of burning in our fire pit.
I've been busy as a beaver. With unexpected birthday gift money and a recent package of fabric scraps from a reader (thanks Kathy!!!) I was finally able to seat and cover my dining room chairs, a project two years in the waiting. AB says, "they should be for a king or something" and WG said, "you're the bestest mom EVER!" I think my friends and family and readers are the bestest ever. I'm seated comfortably at my table because of you.
And I've not been shy in returning the favor. I just finished and shipped a wall hanging to another RAD mom.
Regrettably, I must admit that I've not been reading other blogs. It's not because I don't love the people I'm following, it's because I've had to concentrate on myself and my family the past few months. Reading other people's stories makes me emotional and stirs up my anxiety for what lies ahead when Sissy returns. Like Grace, I sulk and gaze forlornly at my daughter's empty room. But unlike my faithful black lab who will be rewarded in a few short hours when The Dad returns, I'm liable to meet a frothing, seething, violent storm when my daughter returns.
Two years is too long to be living on the edge of sanity with a challenged child. I'd like to hope Sissy's return will make my tail wag and thump and give me the burning desire to lick her face off but The Dad is the only one that will get that reward ... from Grace.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Miserably ill
Last dose of antibiotic taken yesterday. I began to feel better by 10 pm. Woke up, glands swollen again and then hurled my guts out directly after returning home from taking the kids to school. Slept until 1. See the doctor Thursday but not before I make a trip to see Sissy tomorrow for a face-to-face therapy session.
How in blue blazes am I supposed to do that?!?
This is the worst I've felt yet. Thanks for your comments and suggestions. It's not my thyroid, my symptoms are completely different when it goes haywire. Pregnancy would be EXTREMELY unlikely although I've thought of taking a pregnancy test just to prove it negative. Adrenal insufficiency sounds possible but it doesn't explain the swollen lymph nodes and despite my loss of appetite, nausea and vomiting, the scale remains steady. Go figure.
My first attempt to make and upload a video. not sure why but the sound is not tracking with the video.
Click here to access the auction. In the left sidebar click "crafts" to scroll through the homemade donated items. You'll find the quilts there listed alphabetically. Christmas quilt, Heart Strings quilt, I spy quilt.
How in blue blazes am I supposed to do that?!?
This is the worst I've felt yet. Thanks for your comments and suggestions. It's not my thyroid, my symptoms are completely different when it goes haywire. Pregnancy would be EXTREMELY unlikely although I've thought of taking a pregnancy test just to prove it negative. Adrenal insufficiency sounds possible but it doesn't explain the swollen lymph nodes and despite my loss of appetite, nausea and vomiting, the scale remains steady. Go figure.
My first attempt to make and upload a video. not sure why but the sound is not tracking with the video.
Click here to access the auction. In the left sidebar click "crafts" to scroll through the homemade donated items. You'll find the quilts there listed alphabetically. Christmas quilt, Heart Strings quilt, I spy quilt.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Stretching Grace
It takes GRACE to be kind
When faced with hatred.
Stained Glass at local historic Jesuit church
It takes GRACE to love
When you are despised. grace (noun)
1.a : unmerited divine assistance given humans for their regeneration or sanctification b : a virtue coming from God c : a state of sanctification enjoyed through divine grace
2a : approval, favor b archaic : mercy, pardon c : a special favor : privilege d : disposition to or an act or instance of kindness, courtesy, or clemency e : a temporary exemption : reprieve
3a : a charming or attractive trait or characteristic b : a pleasing appearance or effect : charm c : ease and suppleness of movement or bearing
4. used as a title of address or reference for a duke, a duchess, or an archbishop
5. a short prayer at a meal asking a blessing or giving thanks
6. plural capitalized : three sister goddesses in Greek mythology who are the givers of charm and beauty
7. a musical trill, turn, or appoggiatura
8. a : sense of propriety or right b : the quality or state of being considerate or thoughtful
GRACE makes it possible to find beauty
Among thorns and brambles.
More glass from historic church
reminds me of dresden wheel in quilting
If you try hard enough
You can stretch the limits of GRACE
to the least among us.
1: to confer dignity or honor on
2: adorn, embellish
How often has GRACE
been extended to you
without request for a return?
Stained Glass at Jesuit Church
For Grace are ye saved through faith, and not of yourselves it is the gift of God not of works lest any man should boast. Ephesians 2:8,9
If GRACE alludes you
perhaps it is because you have
alluded being found.
U2 - Grace
In this life, GRACE makes beauty
out of ugly things.
Our dog, Grace
GRACE finds goodness in everything.
The alter at a local historic Episcopal church
Give a little GRACE
Even though it be thrown back in your face.
More glass from the Episcopal church
Stretch GRACE beyond
your limits
Because GRACE
is limitless.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Sneak Peak
I've mentioned a few times that I am making a few lap-sized quilts to auction in Corey's Christmas in July auction to raise money for Orlando. The items will be shipped to Corey and posted on her blog for the auction. Today I'm giving you a sneak peak at one of them.
When I get the other panels assembled, I'll let you have a sneak peek at those too. And as I mentioned earlier, so far what I'm using is from my personal stash and from gifts that other readers have sent. The average lap sized quilt start-to-finish costs about $45 USD to make. If you are interested in helping with the fund raiser but don't think you will be making any purchases in the auction, I will gladly accept donations of scrap fabric, large scraps of batting and/or JoAnn's gift cards. If you like, I will be glad to send copies of receipts so you can be sure I've spent the money on these projects.
Long overdue, some pictures of WG's recital. There was a no-camera policy so I snapped a quick shot at the house on the day of the rehearsal and then while she was on the stage at rehearsal. (She's front row, far left) This is her tap costume. With all the hustle and bustle with the costume change, I forgot to get a picture of her in the ballet costume.
[1]"fussy cut" is a quilting term in which you cut fabric to get a particular shape, image, phrase or pattern to appear in the finished quilt after piecing. The first time I said it to WG, she was confused. "Mom, does that mean you go 'AUUUUGGGHHH!!!!' and make a big fuss and THEN you cut the fabric?" I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe because in addition to screaming like a wild banshee, her rendition of fussing, she shook her body all over in quasi contortions. Then added when I finally stopped giggling, "you know, how Sissy does?" Which made me laugh even harder.
The top panel of the Christmas Throw quilt
Finished size 46 inches x 65 inches
"Fussy Cut" [1]corners that have a different Santa in each (sorry, they're white Santas. It's hard to find neutral toned or dark skinned Santa christmas fabric!)
The back of the quilt which says "Holiday Wishes", "Peace" and "Noel" in red, green and gold
When I get the other panels assembled, I'll let you have a sneak peek at those too. And as I mentioned earlier, so far what I'm using is from my personal stash and from gifts that other readers have sent. The average lap sized quilt start-to-finish costs about $45 USD to make. If you are interested in helping with the fund raiser but don't think you will be making any purchases in the auction, I will gladly accept donations of scrap fabric, large scraps of batting and/or JoAnn's gift cards. If you like, I will be glad to send copies of receipts so you can be sure I've spent the money on these projects.
Long overdue, some pictures of WG's recital. There was a no-camera policy so I snapped a quick shot at the house on the day of the rehearsal and then while she was on the stage at rehearsal. (She's front row, far left) This is her tap costume. With all the hustle and bustle with the costume change, I forgot to get a picture of her in the ballet costume.
[1]"fussy cut" is a quilting term in which you cut fabric to get a particular shape, image, phrase or pattern to appear in the finished quilt after piecing. The first time I said it to WG, she was confused. "Mom, does that mean you go 'AUUUUGGGHHH!!!!' and make a big fuss and THEN you cut the fabric?" I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe because in addition to screaming like a wild banshee, her rendition of fussing, she shook her body all over in quasi contortions. Then added when I finally stopped giggling, "you know, how Sissy does?" Which made me laugh even harder.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Quilting the Blues
Sitemeter is telling me my readership is dropping. Well, when you don't have scary stuff to talk about because your RADling is safely tucked away in a hospital and when you're busy living life without the chaos and drama of said RADling, then there isn't much to talk about.
Except there is.
In November, after months of grinding my teeth while I slept because of the fear that Sissy would hurt me (even with the alarm set) and because it was just that traumatic and violent all day long, I lost a filling. And because we're living on the edge of U.S. poverty level without insurance, I had to pay down my credit card that is used specifically for medical expenses. And since Sissy was still wango-tango until her placement in March, the tooth, the money, my well being all got put on hold. This past Monday I finally made it to the dentist.
"Doc. Before you look in my mouth, you have to know a few things." I clued him in to my insane life and that it isn't because I'm intentionally negligent with my teeth but that it was a burgeoning set of circumstances that kept me away. Of course, the tooth was decayed to the bone, not salvageable. Doc was nice. He took x-rays of the others. The other side of my mouth is threatening to suffer the same fate so I have to go back in a month to repair the damage before I lose more. Then he referred me to an oral surgeon that did an emergency extraction Tuesday morning.
I left the dentist and saw the voicemail on the cell phone. The Dad and a 40 foot extension ladder had a wrestling match while I was in the chair. The ladder won but not before The Dad kept it from destroying the customer's house. The Dad's arm? Not so much.
So Tuesday was fun. Me on percocet with a swollen mouth, The Dad on prednisone with a cortizone shot in his arm. Fun times.
Then AFO's for AB on Wednesday (i forgot the camera) and back to my PCP to discuss the panic attacks and my meds. Well, panic is morphing into depression. No surprise there. So a slight med switch and the suggestion from my therapist that the PCP write a letter on my behalf to the hospital therapy team where Sissy is at to let them know that I'm being treated for situational panic and depression as a result of my child's severe needs.
It's a crap shoot but Sissy's case is being audited on the 25th of this month, a meeting I can't miss. For now, medicaid has approved her stay through the 6th of June but her meds have just been increased and she's not responding to therapy. In other words, she may have bought herself more time. The hospital is making noise about pulling PDD-NOS off her charts so she can repeat IFI and CBAY, two excellent services ... provided the youth is receptive to that treatment plan. One long, harrowing year of those services and Sissy changed nothing. Not one damn thing. In fact, she got worse. So I'm bringing biograndma with me because she can cite family history and I'm bringing the letter from my PCP and we're going on a wing and a prayer that Sissy will stay longer than June 6th.
I like my newly found quiet, happy life. I know I'm on drugs to help me enjoy it, but the thought, just the mere thought of Sissy being home and my heart races. It is right now, just typing these words. And now tears ...
I don't really want to be the momma that has to say, "i can't raise my daughter. I love her but I just can't. It's killing me." I just don't want to be that mom. I don't think I have a choice. I love my life too much. I love that the other three people in my family are happy too.
I've also learned that I'm a slow healer. Funny, that I am just now realizing that at age 36. This tooth extraction has been tough. Recovering from the panic attacks and taking it slow to ward off depression has been slow. Recovering from the fall at the pool four weeks ago took three weeks and I still have a bruise on my leg. I'm just slow to heal. I'm also slow to process emotions. I get in a place emotionally and it just takes me time to walk through it.
Seems strange to make this revelation about myself, I doubt many people actually think about how long it takes them to heal. Turns out, I'm just slow at it.
This is the last week of school for my crew. AB's triathalon is tomorrow. Monday The Dad and I have to see Sissy for therapy and an on-campus TL. WG has her award ceremony Tuesday and a dance recital Saturday which is also The Dad's birthday. Then I'm taking my therapist's advice and getting out of here. Going some place quiet and green to think, to rest, to recuperate. With the exception of the audit at the hospital on the 25th, I'm not thinking about it. I don't want to spend my time without Sissy panicking or crying. It's hard but I'm not going to do it.
So, since I'm such a slow healer, I'm quilting. And others are quilting for me, a first. No one has ever made a quilt for ME before!
On Thursday, the kids' grandma and I went to her quilt group/bible study where they presented me with my quilt. We worked on paper piecing, had lunch, I took a percocet and tossed my lunch on the drive home (literally, hung my head out the window at a traffic light and hurled it all out. fun times). Really, I'm a SSSSSLLLLLOOOOOWWWWWW healer. slow. Snails? They got nothing on me.
Anyway, while at the meeting, they read this quilter's prayer that made me cry. It embodies who I am and what I do while I quilt. Quilters prayer for the original site. And before I post the prayer, many, many HUGE thanks to everyone that has sent me fabric. I have been able to quilt my fingers raw without spending much money. In fact, in some cases, I've only spent the money for the batting. Words can't say how much I appreciate your generosity.
On that note, because it is helping me heal, I want to return the favor. I would like to make some lap-sized quilts for auction to raise scholarship money for Orlando 2012. If you have scraps, finished blocks without a purpose, unfinished projects, or other quilt notions that are taking up space, please consider donating them so I can turn them into love (and money) so other hurting moms can get some time away in Orlando.
Lastly, the prayer:
Except there is.
In November, after months of grinding my teeth while I slept because of the fear that Sissy would hurt me (even with the alarm set) and because it was just that traumatic and violent all day long, I lost a filling. And because we're living on the edge of U.S. poverty level without insurance, I had to pay down my credit card that is used specifically for medical expenses. And since Sissy was still wango-tango until her placement in March, the tooth, the money, my well being all got put on hold. This past Monday I finally made it to the dentist.
"Doc. Before you look in my mouth, you have to know a few things." I clued him in to my insane life and that it isn't because I'm intentionally negligent with my teeth but that it was a burgeoning set of circumstances that kept me away. Of course, the tooth was decayed to the bone, not salvageable. Doc was nice. He took x-rays of the others. The other side of my mouth is threatening to suffer the same fate so I have to go back in a month to repair the damage before I lose more. Then he referred me to an oral surgeon that did an emergency extraction Tuesday morning.
I left the dentist and saw the voicemail on the cell phone. The Dad and a 40 foot extension ladder had a wrestling match while I was in the chair. The ladder won but not before The Dad kept it from destroying the customer's house. The Dad's arm? Not so much.
So Tuesday was fun. Me on percocet with a swollen mouth, The Dad on prednisone with a cortizone shot in his arm. Fun times.
Then AFO's for AB on Wednesday (i forgot the camera) and back to my PCP to discuss the panic attacks and my meds. Well, panic is morphing into depression. No surprise there. So a slight med switch and the suggestion from my therapist that the PCP write a letter on my behalf to the hospital therapy team where Sissy is at to let them know that I'm being treated for situational panic and depression as a result of my child's severe needs.
It's a crap shoot but Sissy's case is being audited on the 25th of this month, a meeting I can't miss. For now, medicaid has approved her stay through the 6th of June but her meds have just been increased and she's not responding to therapy. In other words, she may have bought herself more time. The hospital is making noise about pulling PDD-NOS off her charts so she can repeat IFI and CBAY, two excellent services ... provided the youth is receptive to that treatment plan. One long, harrowing year of those services and Sissy changed nothing. Not one damn thing. In fact, she got worse. So I'm bringing biograndma with me because she can cite family history and I'm bringing the letter from my PCP and we're going on a wing and a prayer that Sissy will stay longer than June 6th.
I like my newly found quiet, happy life. I know I'm on drugs to help me enjoy it, but the thought, just the mere thought of Sissy being home and my heart races. It is right now, just typing these words. And now tears ...
I don't really want to be the momma that has to say, "i can't raise my daughter. I love her but I just can't. It's killing me." I just don't want to be that mom. I don't think I have a choice. I love my life too much. I love that the other three people in my family are happy too.
I've also learned that I'm a slow healer. Funny, that I am just now realizing that at age 36. This tooth extraction has been tough. Recovering from the panic attacks and taking it slow to ward off depression has been slow. Recovering from the fall at the pool four weeks ago took three weeks and I still have a bruise on my leg. I'm just slow to heal. I'm also slow to process emotions. I get in a place emotionally and it just takes me time to walk through it.
Seems strange to make this revelation about myself, I doubt many people actually think about how long it takes them to heal. Turns out, I'm just slow at it.
This is the last week of school for my crew. AB's triathalon is tomorrow. Monday The Dad and I have to see Sissy for therapy and an on-campus TL. WG has her award ceremony Tuesday and a dance recital Saturday which is also The Dad's birthday. Then I'm taking my therapist's advice and getting out of here. Going some place quiet and green to think, to rest, to recuperate. With the exception of the audit at the hospital on the 25th, I'm not thinking about it. I don't want to spend my time without Sissy panicking or crying. It's hard but I'm not going to do it.
So, since I'm such a slow healer, I'm quilting. And others are quilting for me, a first. No one has ever made a quilt for ME before!
May Quilt Panel - sandwiched
made with scraps some readers have sent me!!! THANKS!!!!
Quilted and waiting for the binding to be tacked down
The quilting is random strings in gold - my quilt interpretation of Starry Starry Night
A quilt panel the kids' grandma got for me
border added, triangles attached, pillow-cased and quilted
Baby Blues - flannel for my sister's baby
I have to finish hand quilting the cross-hatching in the nine-patches!!!
More scraps a reader has sent - recovered old sofa pillows and ...
made matching valances for the back door
and back window!
The kids' grandma's quilt group made this prayer quilt for our family
paper piecing?!?
kids' grandma is talking me through it
Pie in the Sky is going to be the June Wall hanging!
On Thursday, the kids' grandma and I went to her quilt group/bible study where they presented me with my quilt. We worked on paper piecing, had lunch, I took a percocet and tossed my lunch on the drive home (literally, hung my head out the window at a traffic light and hurled it all out. fun times). Really, I'm a SSSSSLLLLLOOOOOWWWWWW healer. slow. Snails? They got nothing on me.
Anyway, while at the meeting, they read this quilter's prayer that made me cry. It embodies who I am and what I do while I quilt. Quilters prayer for the original site. And before I post the prayer, many, many HUGE thanks to everyone that has sent me fabric. I have been able to quilt my fingers raw without spending much money. In fact, in some cases, I've only spent the money for the batting. Words can't say how much I appreciate your generosity.
On that note, because it is helping me heal, I want to return the favor. I would like to make some lap-sized quilts for auction to raise scholarship money for Orlando 2012. If you have scraps, finished blocks without a purpose, unfinished projects, or other quilt notions that are taking up space, please consider donating them so I can turn them into love (and money) so other hurting moms can get some time away in Orlando.
Lastly, the prayer:
Guide my hands to work as Your hands work, to know the power of Your love in every stitch I make, in every thread I knot. May my hands be guided by the same love and care with every quilt I make, knowing that this love and care was and is and will continue to be a gift of blessing to the one it is intended for.
May the works of my hands be pleasing in Your sight, O God.
Lord, bless my work today.
As I choose materials and patterns, may I be reminded of the uniqueness You blessed us all with.
As I cut each length of thread, may I be reminded of the doors that must be closed in our lives so that a new and stronger door may be opened.
As I twist each knot, may I be reminded of a bond of love so strong, nothing will break it.
As I run the thread between my fingers, may I be reminded of the times You have touched my life, my heart, my soul.
As I sew each stitch, may I be reminded of the healing power of Your grace in each of us.
As I concentrate on my craft, may I be reminded of the love and care You put into each of our lives.
As I add my last stitch, tie my last knot, cut the final cord, may I be reminded of the completeness with which You commanded in each of us before we were ever given to this life.
"Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the grave, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom." (Ecclesiastes 9:10)
Friday, December 3, 2010
My RAD does Crazy things!
The "My RAD Does Crazy Things!" contest is in full swing. Remember, deadline for entries is 12-6-10 midnight EST. Go HERE for contest rules.
I had intentions of making the next set of coasters for the contest but got busy. So here's the fabrics I'll be using. I particularly like the triangle Santas! So cute.
My IRL friend has a RAD that has done crazy things. With her permission, I'm submitting this entry for her:
C~ is like Sissy. She has strange ideas about her clothing: how it should be worn, what "matches", what is inappropriate regarding the weather, etc. I know, all of that sounds like normal kid stuff. Except you know our RADlings, it's never "normal."
C~ got dressed for a swimming outing we all attended and emerged from her bedroom with her suit on ... inside out, the boob cups showing! Best part? She pretended she had NO idea it was wrong.
C~ is 19.
OK, start telling us YOUR "My RAD does crazy things!" stories. I'll post a great one about Sissy tomorrow.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Here's what I was "busy" doing:
In regards to my post earlier this fall about the things we've had to give up in an effort to help Sissy including the space in our living room where a Christmas tree would be, we have tinkered, thought and brooded over ways we could still make our home festive regardless of our insanely limited home space a la Sissy's rage room. I will not go gently into that good night, [1] I will go to the ends of the earth to come up with something, ANYTHING that works.
I had mentioned it from the start but The Dad wrinkled up his nose. I persisted. He eventually relinquished when we came to the conclusion that unless we pursued strange and unusual ideas, there would be no tree in our house this year. "The thing is," I told him as he stood back and nodded his approval of my progress on our paper tree, "I knew in my head that this is what I wanted to do in the first place but you couldn't see my vision and I couldn't explain it."
Said WG, "Wow. Mom? That is THE most gorgeous tree, ever!" I even got some positive comments from Sissy which included, "Mom. I couldn't ever do that. You think of good ideas."
"Sissy, my dear, you are VERY creative. You think of great ideas all the time."
"Yeah, but you can sit there and finish it."
I was surprised by her cognitive thoughts. "You're right, I have to stay focused. I must stay on task or it won't get done."
"And you can't get distracted. I always get distracted. That's why I couldn't do it."
"Ah, but you're forgetting. All you have to do is tell yourself, 'I'm going to finish this later no matter what' whenever you have to stop to take care of other responsibilities."
"yeah."
Really. Sometimes Sissy has such amazing thoughts and conversations and it just blows me away when those things come out of her mouth. Why can't that kid stick around more often?!?
So, my paper tree serves two purposes: it covers the hideous brown wall that is the exterior wall of Sissy's room AND it gives us a tree, complete with paper presents under it! All told (thank you very much Dollar General) my paper tree with plastic ornaments cost me $16 and five hours.
We were sad to learn that we couldn't string lights on it (battery operated lights were not going to be a functional solution and there's not power on that wall) but WG said, "Hey mom! I know! We can put the lights up on the ceiling!" And she's right. This weekend we'll trim the molding in the room with white lights. It'll be so pretty! My daughters are so clever.
And that's about all the time I've got for that! Sissy has respite for the next three weekends. SQUEE!!!
[1]Do not Go Gentle into That good Night Welsh poet, Dylan Thomas, beseeching his ailing father to prevail over his illness. Wiki story about the poem. Hey. I used to teach. Once an educator, ALWAYS an educator. It behooves me to throw in some learning on my blog occassionally!
I had intentions of making the next set of coasters for the contest but got busy. So here's the fabrics I'll be using. I particularly like the triangle Santas! So cute.
My IRL friend has a RAD that has done crazy things. With her permission, I'm submitting this entry for her:
C~ is like Sissy. She has strange ideas about her clothing: how it should be worn, what "matches", what is inappropriate regarding the weather, etc. I know, all of that sounds like normal kid stuff. Except you know our RADlings, it's never "normal."
C~ got dressed for a swimming outing we all attended and emerged from her bedroom with her suit on ... inside out, the boob cups showing! Best part? She pretended she had NO idea it was wrong.
C~ is 19.
OK, start telling us YOUR "My RAD does crazy things!" stories. I'll post a great one about Sissy tomorrow.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Here's what I was "busy" doing:
In regards to my post earlier this fall about the things we've had to give up in an effort to help Sissy including the space in our living room where a Christmas tree would be, we have tinkered, thought and brooded over ways we could still make our home festive regardless of our insanely limited home space a la Sissy's rage room. I will not go gently into that good night, [1] I will go to the ends of the earth to come up with something, ANYTHING that works.
I had mentioned it from the start but The Dad wrinkled up his nose. I persisted. He eventually relinquished when we came to the conclusion that unless we pursued strange and unusual ideas, there would be no tree in our house this year. "The thing is," I told him as he stood back and nodded his approval of my progress on our paper tree, "I knew in my head that this is what I wanted to do in the first place but you couldn't see my vision and I couldn't explain it."
Said WG, "Wow. Mom? That is THE most gorgeous tree, ever!" I even got some positive comments from Sissy which included, "Mom. I couldn't ever do that. You think of good ideas."
"Sissy, my dear, you are VERY creative. You think of great ideas all the time."
"Yeah, but you can sit there and finish it."
I was surprised by her cognitive thoughts. "You're right, I have to stay focused. I must stay on task or it won't get done."
"And you can't get distracted. I always get distracted. That's why I couldn't do it."
"Ah, but you're forgetting. All you have to do is tell yourself, 'I'm going to finish this later no matter what' whenever you have to stop to take care of other responsibilities."
"yeah."
Really. Sometimes Sissy has such amazing thoughts and conversations and it just blows me away when those things come out of her mouth. Why can't that kid stick around more often?!?
So, my paper tree serves two purposes: it covers the hideous brown wall that is the exterior wall of Sissy's room AND it gives us a tree, complete with paper presents under it! All told (thank you very much Dollar General) my paper tree with plastic ornaments cost me $16 and five hours.
We were sad to learn that we couldn't string lights on it (battery operated lights were not going to be a functional solution and there's not power on that wall) but WG said, "Hey mom! I know! We can put the lights up on the ceiling!" And she's right. This weekend we'll trim the molding in the room with white lights. It'll be so pretty! My daughters are so clever.
And that's about all the time I've got for that! Sissy has respite for the next three weekends. SQUEE!!!
[1]Do not Go Gentle into That good Night Welsh poet, Dylan Thomas, beseeching his ailing father to prevail over his illness. Wiki story about the poem. Hey. I used to teach. Once an educator, ALWAYS an educator. It behooves me to throw in some learning on my blog occassionally!
Monday, November 29, 2010
OUT CRAZY THE CRAZY CONTEST!
I haven't had anyone post their crazy stories yet. So here's some proof that I'm crazier than you. Here are some crazy pieced quilt squares. Proof that my cheap 15 year old machine from JCPenney can quilt insane nine-patch nine patches without foundation piecing!
Enter the contest and win these festive coasters. They are bundled with a pretty ribbon and in the manila envelope waiting for an address to be mailed to!
Go HERE!!!! to read how insane I am. Scroll to the bottom of the post for contest rules and instructions.
NOW GO GET CRAZY!!!!
Arrowhead Star with sashes and posts - finished size 3.75 inches square
Yes. I'm insane! 9-patch block - finished size 4.5 inches - nine-patches/snowballs
Click on the image to enlarge and get the full affect of these tiny nine patches!
Click on the image to enlarge and get the full affect of these tiny nine patches!
THE PRIZE!!!
Enter the contest and win these festive coasters. They are bundled with a pretty ribbon and in the manila envelope waiting for an address to be mailed to!
NOW GO GET CRAZY!!!!
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Out Crazy the Crazy CONTEST!
I finished it on Thanksgiving day and now, three days after Thanksgiving, it is hanging up. Sadly, the picture doesn't show the quilting but I'm looking at it while I type this and I can tell you, it looks pretty.(sawtooth star)
Thirty minutes ago I sat down, after feeding everyone and just as I took my first bite of turkey sandwich, Sissy says, "Mom. What does caffeine look like alone?"
I don't know how she does it, or why. I can't even tell you if it's intentional or just extremely poor timing. I certainly can't certify the crazy crap that comes out of her mouth. I can tell you only this. When the crazy comes out of her mouth, I ignore her. Who can answer these insane questions? "Not I," says the the cow. "Not I," says the dog. "Not I," says the cat. "Nor I!" shouts this mother!
Last night I took the opportunity, after a very LONG drive home, Sissy and AB going nutso giddy, to send some crazy back her way. While playing outside at Grandma's yesterday afternoon, she decided to pick a rose off the rosebush, apparently it was a gift for me. Then, as we packed to go, she decided to put the bloom in her hair. Sometime on the trip home with all of the insanity happening in the backseat, Sissy decided every petal of that rose needed to come off and be dropped on the floor and seat, left for the clean-up fairy to come and clean it up.
I discovered this petal palooza when I returned to the van an hour after our return home, to unpack. I opened up the side door and voila. Petals. Everywhere. I breathed a sigh and gathered my wits. *think, think, think* Ok, I'll just have her suck it up with the handvac. whatevs. i won't dissect the RADical connotations. I just want the flower cleaned up.
I went to her room, she was already in pajamas. I handed her the handvac and said, "Do you know what I want you to do with this? Here's your hint. I've just returned from the van and noticed a mess."
"There's petals everywhere?"
"Yep."
"oh."
"It's cold outside, i suggest you put on your robe before you go out. Thank you for cleaning it up without raging." (I threw in that last bit as a Don't-TRY-raging-about-this)
"you're welcome."
o.O
Two minutes later she emerged from her room with her robe on. That is to say, from the front, it was closed and sashed. From the back, it is hiked up all kinds of crazy, her bottom hanging out, the sash haphazardly tied about her rear. We've had discussions about her unwillingness to put on her clothing correctly. The robe being the most ridiculous offender to her come-what-may attitude about attire.
"Um. Sissy. Your robe is ..."
"...WHAT!?"
"*ahem* Well, if you want everyone to see you that way, leave it. OR, untie your robe and fix it before going out."
the rumblings of a rage were in the back of her throat. Somehow we managed to get through all of the put-down-the-handvac-untie-the-sash-pull-down-the-robe-over-your-butt-retie-the-sash instructions without an all out war and she was out the door harrumphing at the injustice of having a mother that gives a flying flip. And that's when I got crazy.
I dashed into the bathroom, stripped, threw on my pajamas and put on my robe. Only I made sure my robe looked perfect from the front and absolutely idiotic from the back. My granny panties hanging out, my robe hiked up above my waist, my sash looped UNDER my derriere. I made it to the kitchen just as Sissy was putting back the handvac.
"Thank you for putting that away correctly." I said with a silly grin. Sissy looked up and saw only my perfectly tidy front. "Just one question." I snickered and turned around, bending over for full affect. "Is there something wrong with my robe? I'm getting a draft on my bottom." I patted it for full affect.
Sissy grunted at me, groaned and then growled. "UGH! MOM!!!!"
"What?" I turned back around, looking at my front. "I just don't understand it." I feigned ignorance in my best Snow White voice. "The front of my robe looks just fine." I cinched the sash tighter to prove the point.
"yourrobeiswrongintheback" she mumbled to the ground.
"Oh? What should I do?"
"PULLITDOWN!!!YOURBUTTISSHOWING!!!!!" she hissed at me.
I turned around and did as instructed so she could witness what I was doing to make my robe correct. "Oh yes, you're absolutely right. That's much better. My bottom is nice and toasty warm now. Thank you!"
more grumbling. "Well Sissy," I turned around and faced her, coming within her invisible comfort zone as I knelt just low enough to be eye-to-eye. "That looked really dumb, didn't it?"
"yes."
"I bet you would have laughed at me if you weren't mad."
grunting.
"You should have. I looked stupid. I looked like an absolute idiot."
glaring.
"When I ask you to fix your robe, it's because I don't want people laughing at you. I don't want YOU to look like an idiot."
"but, but, BUT!!!..."
"you've told me it makes you really mad when people laugh at you. Right?"
"yes."
"So as your mom, I'm trying to help you so people don't have a reason to laugh at you. i do this because I care about you. I care what you want."
grunting.
"Do you know how to put your robe on correctly?"
"yes."
"So ... if you choose not to, then you're going to look like an idiot, aren't you?"
"yes."
"and people will laugh."
"YES!"
"Then please fix your robe correctly. I ask you because I care. OK?"
she nodded her head.
"and if I ever look that stupid again, go ahead at laugh at me. I'd deserve it."
half-hearted smile.
comments are open to anonymous
1. in Comments tell us YOUR craziest out-crazy-the-crazy story
2. if you choose to tell your story on your blog, please link this post on your blog using this url: http://peaceinpuzzles.blogspot.com/2010/11/out-crazy-crazy-contest.html
Then put your story link in Comments here
Then put your story link in Comments here
3. Stories will be received until midnight Monday, EST.
4. Stories will be linked or reposted on this blog for the purpose of voting
5. voting is open to all readers, voting ends midnight Wednesday, EST.
6. Winner will receive a quilted set of four Christmas coasters!
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Addicted much?
I'm still working but here are some of the finished panels from last weekend's retreat:
The Baby quilt
I LOVE the way this one turned out! It looks so cute.
Pillow cases for WG and Sissy
WG loves hers. Sissy's is rumpled up in a corner of her room. I'll reserve my comments about that for "off blog".
The Turkey Panel
Good golly, this one burned my britches but my, it looks so pretty! Matching trivets and table runner still in the works.
The Dad's throw quilt
The Dad's quilt is an easy afternoon project I learned on the retreat. It's called the "lasagna quilt", a jelly roll of 2.5 inch strips in 6 coordinating fabrics, sewn end to end. Then, take the two free ends and sew them length wise. Clip the loop when you get to the end. Keep matching up the ends, sewing lengthwise and clipping the loops. Depending on the number of strips, you will do 5-7 passes this way before the quilt is finished. Fewer strips makes a vertical panel. More strips makes a horizontal panel.
I can't afford jelly rolls at $35 a pop. I bought two fat quarters each of six coordinating batiks and strip cut them myself. If you purchase 6, 1/2 yards you'll get longer strips which will change the look of the panel. With fat quarters, each strip was only 21 inches long.
Another variation is to first butt each strip with a 2.5 inch x 1.5 inch of a seventh fabric that accents the other colors. (on the color wheel, think "opposite side" (ie) orange to green) After each strip has it's "butt" end, then sew the strips end to end. This variation adds visual appeal, interrupting the mosaic pattern of the strips.
Finish the panel with your choice of borders. I saw a 9 patch corner border scheme on a different quilt and loved it. had to do it. It looks so cool!
fabrics - glory be, JoAnn's had fat quarters on sale for $0.99 last week. I bought these batiks for a whopping $12. WHAT!?!? right? I know. Crazy.
the reason this quilt is called a "lasagna" quilt, this pile of strips looks like a pile of noodles
The finished work, a mosaic. In the batiks, it has a stained glass effect
Showing off the nine-patch in the corner of the inner border
So here's the deal. Yes, this is a lot of fabric, time and money. Except... it's not. I quilt on a shoe string budget. When I'm not planning a project, I'm scrounging remnant bins, discounted or discontinued fabrics or ends of bolts (for the steep discount). I have a small stash but they are all high quality fabrics in contemporary designs. I'm also a hound dog for sales. Then, I pull from my stash for my projects. I also save any scrap that is 2.5 inch or larger and any strip that is 1.5 inch wide. In addition, I also cut up my scraps to 2.5" squares, 3.5" strips, 5" squares and fat quarters. I have them in baggies according to size. It makes finding them easier. All three of these panels were created at very low cost.
In this life, we're going to have addictions. I've accepted it. No point in denying the human yen for repetition. The catch is to be addicted to something that you can do cheaply and that won't harm you. Quilting is a safe bet for both.
I LOVE the way this one turned out! It looks so cute.
WG loves hers. Sissy's is rumpled up in a corner of her room. I'll reserve my comments about that for "off blog".
Good golly, this one burned my britches but my, it looks so pretty! Matching trivets and table runner still in the works.
The Dad's quilt is an easy afternoon project I learned on the retreat. It's called the "lasagna quilt", a jelly roll of 2.5 inch strips in 6 coordinating fabrics, sewn end to end. Then, take the two free ends and sew them length wise. Clip the loop when you get to the end. Keep matching up the ends, sewing lengthwise and clipping the loops. Depending on the number of strips, you will do 5-7 passes this way before the quilt is finished. Fewer strips makes a vertical panel. More strips makes a horizontal panel.
I can't afford jelly rolls at $35 a pop. I bought two fat quarters each of six coordinating batiks and strip cut them myself. If you purchase 6, 1/2 yards you'll get longer strips which will change the look of the panel. With fat quarters, each strip was only 21 inches long.
Another variation is to first butt each strip with a 2.5 inch x 1.5 inch of a seventh fabric that accents the other colors. (on the color wheel, think "opposite side" (ie) orange to green) After each strip has it's "butt" end, then sew the strips end to end. This variation adds visual appeal, interrupting the mosaic pattern of the strips.
Finish the panel with your choice of borders. I saw a 9 patch corner border scheme on a different quilt and loved it. had to do it. It looks so cool!
fabrics - glory be, JoAnn's had fat quarters on sale for $0.99 last week. I bought these batiks for a whopping $12. WHAT!?!? right? I know. Crazy.
the reason this quilt is called a "lasagna" quilt, this pile of strips looks like a pile of noodles
The finished work, a mosaic. In the batiks, it has a stained glass effect
Showing off the nine-patch in the corner of the inner border
So here's the deal. Yes, this is a lot of fabric, time and money. Except... it's not. I quilt on a shoe string budget. When I'm not planning a project, I'm scrounging remnant bins, discounted or discontinued fabrics or ends of bolts (for the steep discount). I have a small stash but they are all high quality fabrics in contemporary designs. I'm also a hound dog for sales. Then, I pull from my stash for my projects. I also save any scrap that is 2.5 inch or larger and any strip that is 1.5 inch wide. In addition, I also cut up my scraps to 2.5" squares, 3.5" strips, 5" squares and fat quarters. I have them in baggies according to size. It makes finding them easier. All three of these panels were created at very low cost.
In this life, we're going to have addictions. I've accepted it. No point in denying the human yen for repetition. The catch is to be addicted to something that you can do cheaply and that won't harm you. Quilting is a safe bet for both.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Foundation Piecing
I like to try new things and one of my personal mantras is that the day I stop learning will be the day I die.
So today I tried my hand out foundation piecing. I've decided to compose a letter to this quilting technique.
Suffice it to say, foundation piecing and I are not currently on speaking terms. We've put any thoughts of forging a new relationship on hiatus indefinitely.
Here is the product of this evening's attempt. You can see for yourself that neither foundation piecing nor I could come to a point we could both agree upon, we made no reasonable or consistent allowances for seams, our margins were out of sync and altogether it was a horrible, miserable flop.
I will however, give props to myself for excellent color choice.
Two points for Integrity.
But as a whole Foundation Piecing whipped my *bleep* with a rousing 24 points (two points for each piece)
Thanks but no thanks.
So today I tried my hand out foundation piecing. I've decided to compose a letter to this quilting technique.
Dear Foundation Piecing Technique,
I tried it and must respectfully request that you go to *bleep*.
Sincerely,
Integrity
Suffice it to say, foundation piecing and I are not currently on speaking terms. We've put any thoughts of forging a new relationship on hiatus indefinitely.
Here is the product of this evening's attempt. You can see for yourself that neither foundation piecing nor I could come to a point we could both agree upon, we made no reasonable or consistent allowances for seams, our margins were out of sync and altogether it was a horrible, miserable flop.
I will however, give props to myself for excellent color choice.
Two points for Integrity.
But as a whole Foundation Piecing whipped my *bleep* with a rousing 24 points (two points for each piece)
Thanks but no thanks.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
I did it!
I DID IT!
I finished the hand quilting on the wall hanging and put on the border. It's only pinned but I was too excited to show off the finished project to wait for nuances like tacking down the binding, washing, pressing and properly hanging it. Every stitch done by hand thus, this shall be called my:
how-to-bypass-the-need-for-anti-depressants-AKA-the-quilt-in-which-I-perfected-my-rocking-stitch According to Bren, the rocking stitch does some cool sensory and soothing things in the brain/limbic system. And yes, yes it does!
And for more cuteness, I have a doll from my infancy that is named after my first childhood friend. I loved the name so much, I chose it for WG's first name. And low and behold, when I opened the packet of this year's school pictures, WG looks like my doll who bears the same name down to the freckles on the noses! Even WG was astonished by the resemblance.
And I can't post a school photo of WG without posting AB and Sissy. Here you have AB's standard photo expression. I think he looks exactly like this in every photo we have taken for the last four years.
And Sissy's picture... is it bad if I look at this photo and think, oh dear, she's got a whole lot of mess going on? Because gosh, does she ever. This photo is two weeks before hospitalization. Maybe I should just start taking photos of her when she's raging so I can see it this clearly and tell the docs, "HEY, I've got photo proof, Sissy's on the edge again!"
And for anyone who thinks for even a smidge of a second that I was way off base for calling Sissy on her running away attempt last Monday, here's photo proof of the contents of the packed and hidden backpack.
Seriously, what would YOU think if you found these items in your 10 year old's bag? All together now,
She's planning on running away!
And so there's no confusion, the contents of the bag included:comb, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, compact mirror, flip flops, purse (filled with hygiene items - which is blissfully ironic since she NEVER practices her hygiene without 10 prompts and a rage fest), sunglasses, a bug catcher (we watch a lot of survivorman and he's always catching bugs to eat) and a toy including all of that doll's accoutrement.
But Sissy maintains her story that she simply "didn't feel like putting her things away correctly"
Sure Sissy, and I'm really a black woman wearing white makeup
lol
If I actually said those words to Sissy, she'd say with astonishment, "you ARE?!"
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