Spanish Treasure

First, I finished up my fourth and last Gothic Windows block on Tuesday night and last night I got them put together and basted (so easy and simple with a scrap of batting and a fat quarter as backing!) to be quilted.  I thought I'd use a red thread to do some hand quilting on the purple background, so we'll see how that turns out.  I'm on the road this weekend so I should be able to make considerable progress on this when I'm not near a machine.

I also got out my other new-to-the-blog project last night.  I began working on it around the holidays when I was too busy to do much blogging.  It's from the book "Nickel Quilts" by Pat Speth and the design is called "Tillie's Treasure." 

(This is just the picture of the cover from amazon.com - I don't think clicking here will help you see inside!)

Well, I chose to use all Kate Spain fabrics from both her Terrain and Good Fortune lines, so I'm calling it "Spanish Treasure."  I just love working with these fabrics, and there are SO many of them with such gorgeous color and variety that it was a joy to cut and to piece.

At first I thought some of the prints would be too large scale for this design, but I stood on my chair and took this photo of the blocks laid out on my folding table, and I love the way it looks.  I know the colors will blend and soften a lot when it's all pieced, quilted and washed.

It's been a long time since I made a quilt purely for the joy of the process.  There's something about Kate Spain's fabric that makes that possible for me.

There's a lot of chatter in the blogosphere lately about housekeeping items like what people like to see on a blog and technical items like word verification.  I have a blogiquette question ... what is the proper way to deal with comments?  When I began with blogger almost nine years ago - although it was not a quilt-related blog - it was commonplace to reply to comments with your own comment and continue the post discussion with readers in the comment area.  These days, I see many more bloggers hit reply to comments I leave and take the discussion offline ... which is good, because I rarely go back to read other comments after I've left one.  Is there a proper blogging comment etiquette?  Do you expect a reply when you leave a comment, or feel disappointed if you don't get one?  If you keep a blog, do you reply to every comment?  Do you ever return to the post to see if a reply was posted there, or reply if it's at your own blog?  I'm curious about whether I'm doing this "right" so thanks in advance for answering!

guild guilt

Quilt guild is tonight, which reminds me that I have four voicemail messages on my home machine, two or three of which are about taking an office with the guild for the next two years.  One of those people called back and actually caught me at home and I guiltily managed to decline the treasurer position, but then someone else called back and asked me about taking a less demanding role like vice president.  I never called her back.  We were away seeing the kids all last weekend, and between getting married and that cold I had last week that put me in bed early every night except for Friday, when I finally managed to work out and spend some quality time with my new husband, I had no time.  This weekend was all errands, laundry, trying to do some cleaning and straightening (including the cat's overdue litter box), and, I admit, working on the Jacob's Ladder quilt so I could stay on schedule for the challenge deadline.  I finally thought to return calls right before the Super Bowl started and thought better of it.

Why is there so much guilt associated with just saying no to people who ask for your time commitment?  Am I the only person who wonders, "why me?"  I don't want to discount other people's lives and activities, but at least half of the guild is made up of retired people who don't have young children.  I work at least 40 hours a week to earn a salary, I volunteer as a court appointed special advocate and also have continuing education requirements to meet as part of that in addition to court time and meetings with the child, family members, social services, school officials, legal counsel, and writing reports.  I handle all my great aunt's legal and financial matters as her power of attorney.  Although our kids don't live with us, we are with them every other weekend and they spend summers with us, so I don't even make it to guild meetings then.  I try to work out twice a week, get a decent meal on the table at least a few nights a week, pay some attention to the animal members of our household, do the laundry and some basic cleaning, and honestly, it's not easy to do in the ~3 hours I have at home each day when I'm not sleeping.  Fortunately I have most of my bills automatically paid and I can handle some things from my office, but I fail miserably at anything that needs to be done during daylight hours beyond a phone call.  Going to any government agency to get my name officially changed, getting the dog the surgery on his leg, participating in my son's school teacher conferences, having a contractor come to the house to do some work, meeting with professionals about our investments, taxes, or wills ... all falling hard by the wayside right now.  I hide in my quilting at night to give me some sort of solace that I can accomplish SOMETHING for ME, but taking on one more thing for someone else would mean giving that up.

My mother was one of the original superwomen.  She held down a full-time job, volunteered at school for my brother and me, led my girl scout troop, served on the PTA, timed our swim competitions, got an advanced degree at night (with all straight As), entertained the neighbors as hostess for various things, sewed my clothes, cooked dinner every night, and then did this also for various exchange students, distant cousins, and others living as part of our household over about a ten year period.  I don't ever remember her saying no to anyone for anything, but I do remember her frazzled, frustrated, and snapping often at home, at my brother and me who kept the machine running.  I did all the family laundry by the age of 12; my brother and I were in charge of all housecleaning during our after-school times.  TV was off-limits except for one half hour while mom made dinner if we had no homework, and if I missed a bus, I walked to or from school (1.6 miles to the high school).  I don't know how to say no without guilt, but I don't have a model for saying yes without resentment and forcing others to spread as thin as you are.

Adult life is a very carefully crafted balance between doing things for yourself and doing things for others.  I think that I have found that balance for me right now (even though it means I get together with friends only about twice a year), but whenever I get a call like these, I think I'm not doing enough to pull my weight for the organization, and consider resigning my membership.  For a long time, I avoided participating in any of my sorority's regional alumnae organizations because I could not take on another leadership role.  I was burned out after taking on several after college, and  I would only join organizations that were big enough to run smoothly without me.  I thought that the quilt guild - with about 150 members - was one of them.  I love being an AOII, I am proud to be a University of Delaware alumna, and I get such creative stimulation by being in a quilt guild.  But I cannot take on one more obligation to someone else, and so we do not have a local UD alumnae chapter (I turned down the request from the alumni office to start one), I am not part of an AOII alumnae chapter, and I wonder if I should leave the guild.  It's not that I wouldn't love to help out, but I can't quit my job, I need to take care of my body (sleep and exercise), I already spend too little time with my son for my taste, my great aunt would be in deep doo-doo if no one acted on her behalf, and there are abused children in the system who need my help.  The quilting can fall by the wayside, but honestly, if I don't have time to quilt because I'm part of a quilt guild, what's the point?

I used to suck it up and say yes and deal with it because, let's face it, everyone else is busy too.  But then I saw the People I Want To Punch In The Throat post today about people who are busy who aren't really busy (not that this describes any of the women in the guild because I don't think it does) and I wonder, why am I considering giving up my few moments of peace and sanity in my day to day world when people like this are out there claiming to be too busy also?  Why can't I just say NO and be okay with it?

How do you handle another "can you please consider committing your time to ... " request?

two to quilt

These two quilt tops (the one on the right including a double border not shown) were delivered to my longarm quilter, Laura at Star City Stitchery, today.  She helped me pick out patterns and thread color.  I've mentioned it before, but one of the things I love about her business is that when she's working on my quilt, she lets me know and I can watch on the quilt cam.  If you click on it now you see the Block of the Month sampler quilt for The Crooked Stitch.  It was on the machine when I went there today.

I warned her that I've got two more quilt tops headed her way before the end of the year.  One is the Christmas one I'm working on and one is the Ghastlies one that I'll be making as soon as I get the fabric.  It will have some pretty large sized blocks because of the scale of the fabric so it should go together quickly.

I'm having kind of a rough week - it's so hard to tell when I'm PMSing now since the hysterectomy since looking at the calendar doesn't help! - and each time I read a post about a quilter's retreat or the friendships a lot of quilters have found through things like Sewing Summit or other quilt events, I get envious.  Yes, I have the quilt guild, and one friend I met there, even though our ages are about 25 years apart.  But honestly, one of the reasons I sewed all week and all weekend is that I didn't have much else to do.  Yes, I turned down an invitation from my Honey's sister to join her and her husband for a wine festival, and I am grateful to have been invited.  But I really wish I had friends to sew with or go grab a beer with or go shopping with.  I don't even have family anymore, beyond my dad and my son and the people in my Honey's family who have so kindly (and so recently) accepted me.  Some of the bloggers I read talk about time spent with sisters or their mom and that's just not really an option for me.  Family is forever ... until they pass away.  Still, I've always been somewhat of a loner, and haven't picked up many new girlfriends since my divorce.  Work is exhausting and when I get home at night - and it's as dark as when I left in the morning - I'm grateful I don't have to go back out anywhere to put on my social face, and can just wriggle into sweats and spend some quality time at Old Sally until my Honey gets home.

Still, life would be cool if it had options.  Maybe one day.

the importance of creativity and why I quilt

Although I've been puttering around my sewing room a little bit during the evenings this week (I'm back to work during the days), I don't really have anything new to share.  There are a lot of projects to finish up or cut fabric for or get to the next stage on.  We don't have kids this weekend - or even any plans as of yet - and hopefully I will get caught up on a few things.  But this post is inspired more from thinking than doing.

Over the past several months I've been reading, "The Gifts of Imperfection," by Brené Brown.  Although I've read the entire book, I keep going back to re-read and absorb parts of it.  In the book, she writes that the gifts of imperfection are courage, compassion and connection, and then goes on to challenge "the things that get in the way."  Her sixth guidepost is entitled, "Cultivating Creativity:  Letting Go of Comparison."

Although it's nearly an impossible work to paraphrase, I identify with so much of what she writes because my mother instilled in me a psyche that says that what others think is more important than who I really am or what I really feel, and the only way to be safe from criticism is to be perfect ... to fall short of that is shameful.  It takes A LOT of work to undo this mentality, to believe that I am good enough the way I am, and worthy of love and praise, and to adopt realistic expectations for myself.  As a result, I tend to firmly grasp any resource I can find that helps me reroute some of those mental pathways I've had since childhood.

In the chapter on creativity, Dr. Brown encourages us to express ourselves by being creative and unique; that the cookie-cutter mentality is what leads to comparison and negative self-talk about not being "enough".  Mind you, the entire book is very tightly woven and nearly all of it refers to other parts, circling back to prove various statements.  It is a quest to learn how people live "wholeHEARTedly" and how traits/practices/characteristics like spirituality, gratitude and authenticity contribute to that, and how we can help those things thrive.  With creativity comes a power of self-expression, and it is the only unique contribution we can ever really make in this world ... with creativity, she says, we cultivate meaning.  It helps us stay mindful to the beauty of the world and what we bring to it.

The funny thing is that I am one of those she calls out as telling myself and others that I'm not really an artist, or not really creative.  When I quilt, I follow directions.  I take fabric that truly creative people have designed, and I cut it up and sew it back together in patterns that other truly creative people have designed.  I don't give myself any credit for being part of the creative process.  What's more is that I tend to take that comparison to others into my creative life.   My work isn't as good as others', my points aren't as perfect, my stitches aren't as even.  I guess it doesn't help that as quilters, we often enter our work into shows to be judged and critiqued by those we consider professionals; that I have a dollar value put on my work by an appraiser.  I struggle against making these constant comparisons, because even if I were told that my quilts were horrible and ugly and worthless, I'd probably keep making them anyway.

See, Dr. Brown goes on to write about cultivating "calm and stillness," especially as an antidote to anxiety, which I think I experience more than the average person (and her book well identifies exactly how and why I end up with so much anxiety).  Cultivating calm and stillness is exactly what I do when I sew.  I once told my Honey when he was with me in my sewing room that cutting fabric into uniform, precise shapes and then sewing it back together - again, uniformly and precisely - is an extraordinarily soothing antidote in the chaos of today's world.  I have control.  I have power.  I can take these ingredients and turn them into whatever I want them to look like.  At no other time as when I'm working on a quilt can my mind so well focus on things.  Dr. Brown writes firsthand about my own experiences in trying meditation - how I spend the entire time trying to avoid working on a mental to do list or waiting for the allotted time to be over.  But she writes that "stillness is not about focusing on nothingness; it's about creating a clearing.  It's opening up an emotionally clutter-free space and allowing ourselves to feel and think and dream and question."  And for me, the balance of thought and planning required and free time allowed for my mind to roam while I sew is the perfect breeding ground to create that clearing for fully free thought. 

I had recognized this long ago.  I know that when I get most anxious and rundown it's because I've been lacking time in my sewing room.  I know that I require that sense of balance and creativity for happiness.  And it's more than just the creating that's in process; it's the form of meditation that transpires while I'm doing it.  It's like the dust that gets stirred up by being an active part of the world has time to settle.  It's where my emotions pour out into my work, and the sadness I feel at the loss or illness of a loved one is turned into a quilt; the love I feel for someone else is turned into another quilt; the joy I feel at a friend welcoming a new baby into the world is turned into another quilt; a fond memory is memorialized in another quilt.  To me, my quilts don't represent anything particularly creative or artistic.  They represent my feelings put into fabric.  And when I present that quilt, it feels far less vulnerable and awkward than trying to put into words how I feel (although, for the record, I do try).

When I speak about why I quilt, I often tell the story about my experience after 9/11.  The world was in shock, and when that shock wore off, people wanted to do something, but no one knew really what.  Blood banks were turning donors away, overwhelmed.  I was living in the little canal town of Delaware City, Delaware, and our mayor (a woman I quilted with at the town library every Wednesday night) decided that the town was going to go ahead and have our Canalfest which was scheduled for that Saturday, September 15.  It was kind of an arts festival, with vendors set up in the city park, and the informal local quilter's group set up in the gazebo ... not selling anything, but just plying our craft for people to watch.  Well, when the tragic events of 9/11 happened, I knew that there would be a call on the internet for comfort quilts, and so during the evenings of that week, I whipped up a red, white and blue log cabin quilt top from scraps I had in my sewing room.  I put the sandwiched quilt on my floor frame and, on Saturday, had my then-husband take it down and set it up in the gazebo with a sign inviting everyone to take a few stitches in a quilt that would go to comfort a survivor of the attacks or a victim's family.  I will never forget how the line of people to work on that quilt stretched across the green of the park.  There were children, old men, teenage girls waiting to learn how to wear a thimble, take up a needle and sew a running stitch.  I had everyone who participated sign their names on a piece of paper, and by the time it was finished by the quilters later, we had over a hundred people work on that quilt.  We were overwhelmed that day, but I think what stuck with me most was seeing the NEED that people had to find a way to help ... to contribute, to do something to send their love and prayers and healing thoughts to strangers somewhere who needed it.  I felt such pity for them, since I have been using my quilting as a way to do that for decades now. 

People who don't sew look at my quilts and tell me that I have a gift.  I don't see it that way - I think I have a learned skill that anyone else can have.  But the process of creating the quilt - the evolution of emotional energy from planning to presentation - and recognizing that I can accomplish that amazing spiritual journey with fabric, needle and thread, to me, is the real gift.