Tag Archives: new year

Wondering where this year will take me….

Hello 2018!  Yesterday we received rain after the driest December in thirty years, so January is starting off well.  I’ll be heading north at the end of the week, spending time with my grandson and his pop.  Tomorrow I’ll visit Little Miss and her sister, my eldest daughter and son-in-law too.  Oh and Buttercup, who is adjusting to life with another person in her household.  Familial ties will most likely be the theme of the next twelve months, although there’s no keeping a writer’s imagination stilled.

Off for a walk before raindrops intruded….  Little Miss makes sure that Miss Em has a pacifier handy at all times, ha ha ha….

Nor a quilter’s hands idle, although my right thumb has been achy as of late, making me wonder how much hand-quilting I’ll accomplish in 2018.  Then there’s an orphan binding which I uncovered a few days ago, with no clue for what it was meant to complete.  I sort of recall making it, I think….  Not often do I employ brown in my sewing, but here’s an espresso binding, waiting for a quilt to encase.  Is this a harbinger of other unfinished projects, dangling in the wind….

What in the world am I going to do with this?

Ahem, I certainly hope not, but honestly, The Hawk flits in and out of my mind, as has another tale with a complimentary playlist from ages ago.  I’ve been listening to those tunes while I hand-quilt, pondering a plot that while I won’t say seems destined to be written, definitely takes up space in my gray matter.  I’m not overly concerned; 2017 taught me to embrace the NOW, leaving LATER to sort itself out at a more appropriate time.

Yet, achy hands remind me that time is a precarious notion; I’m not getting younger, you know.  As my grandchildren age, so do I, ha ha, um, yeah.  Forgetting about a chocolate coloured binding doesn’t worry me, although now I feel slightly compelled to fashion a complimentary quilt top, or a set of placemats/mug rugs to give that binding a home.  Knowing that I’m leaving in a matter of days keeps me from embarking upon more than updating new calendars, sending off New Year’s cards instead of Christmas cards because we didn’t order them in time to arrive before the end of December, as well as adding to my packing list for a week away from home.  To put it bluntly, I’m in limbo right now, both mentally as well as projectarily, and it’s a funny state of mind to inhabit.

Yet, it’s also a beautiful place to be, sort of like where my youngest daughter is in the SoCal desert.  She might never be in that location again, but for the next ten days it’s home, living out of a tent, barely getting phone reception (but we’re very grateful that she does!), hiking around examining rocks.  This is part of her graduation requirement, plus she loves this kind of exploration.  I joke that I love not camping, but this girl adores it, plus rocks to study?  Dude, that’s her kind of heaven.  She’ll return full of stories and details, then prepare for another term of school.  Maybe January starts off the year, but perhaps it takes until February until 2018 truly dawns.

And speaking of daybreak, my youngest sent the above photo yesterday during the brief window while she had access to data.  Maybe I don’t want to live out of a tent, but this kind of morning is a priceless sort, and I’m putting it here for others to enjoy.  Also as a reminder that pleasure and purpose can be as exhilarating, also fleeting, as a sunrise.  I’m not going to squander time wondering if this book or that idea will come to fruition, nor why I crafted a dark brown quilt binding.  Instead I’ll complete this post, then make my next move, probably toward the kitchen for some breakfast, more coffee, then updating wall calendars.  After that, it’s anyone’s guess.  But uncertainty doesn’t need to be scary, it’s actually liberating.  I have enough tasks in my future already set in stone.  Today’s agenda is merely to inhale the peace, then share it however I’m able.  May that calm be yours too.

A Year of Quilts

When I think back to 2014, several items stick in my mind; my father’s bout with chemotherapy, an invasion of grandchildren; minimal writing (although what I did accomplish concerned just one novel, which in itself is quite unique), the San Francisco Giants winning their third World Series in five years (lol), and road trips.  Oh, and one other fascination.

My initial efforts, way back in February, before I had any clue to a quarter-inch seam.

My initial efforts, way back in February, before I had any clue to a quarter-inch seam.

2014 was the year I fell in love with quilting.

Okay, sewing.  I fell in love with sewing, which to my mind means quilting.  All I sew are quilts, well, mostly quilts.  I’ve made a few pillowcases, amped up some burp cloths, zig-zagged the edges of fraying hand and bath towels.  But honestly, my foray into the world of sewing revolves around quilts.  This hobby hit me like a ton of bricks, but in a soft, cottony manner that eased other truths that have been drizzling like a cold, miserable storm.

Dad in March, awaiting another round of Taxotere.

Dad in March, awaiting another round of Taxotere while snuggling under his new blanket.

My father’s health is failing, and we’re not exactly sure why.  Mom is calling the doc today, to discern what Dad’s persistent and chemo-less caused nausea is all about.  Dad has MRIs this week, and I’ll be there, for support.  Next week we’ll get the results, and while the news might be less than stellar, I hope we learn why Dad is suffering.

At this point, truth is better than ignorance.

Scrappy's Big Sister from early July; I love the green strips between the rows.

Scrappy’s Big Sister from early July; I love the green strips between the rows.

As for this whole quilting gig, Dad started it.  Well, his quilt was first, to stave off the chemotherapy chills, but my eldest is the instigator, much like she was for the writing.  On the first of February, that young woman and I went to a local fabric store, and I left with a horde of fat quarters that led to a nearly all hand-sewn effort that was given to my father.  Dads are great for overlooking the flaws, of which there were many in that project.  And that quilt led to many others, which were easy to piece together in a fragmented year that saw road trips overtake time spent at my computer.  Stories were thrust to the back burner as blankets came to life, for it was less taxing on my aging brain to sew than to write.

A batik treasure for one of my girls, from October.

A batik treasure for one of my girls, from October.

But it wasn’t just that I couldn’t write; running a rotary cutter through layers of fabrics was calming.  Choosing coordinating cottons soothed, plotting patterns on the quilt wall beat trying to sort a behemoth of a novel that still teases.  I have no idea what 2015 will bring, other than a couple of babies whom I ache to hold.  More grandchildren are due, which makes me wonder just what is going to happen with my father.

Burp cloths from October; can't wait to lay one of these over my shoulder, hehehe!

Burp cloths from November; can’t wait to lay one of these over my shoulder, hehehe!

This is the joy and mystery of life; no one knows what truly lies ahead.

In the meantime, I can’t begrudge anything that occurred this year, for each and every event adds to the whole that is today, 29 December 2014.  I received a new cutting mat for Christmas, which shall facilitate baby quilts I need to make, yay!  I also have some reading to catch up on, my own books to revise, plus a couple of biographies, one about Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who also played his part in my quilting adventures.  And if asked which of these initial blankets captures my heart most, I’m led back to two particular quilts sewn early in the year, when I was still a complete noob; my father’s chemo quilt, and the Mijos comforter, which Buttercup loves.  (My daughter and son-in-law like it too.)

Napping in the warm sun, oh that girl....

Napping in the warm spring sun, oh that girl….

Not only is the Mijos quilt for that cluster of children, but it was sewn during Lent, when Dietrich and his beloved Maria were much on my mind.  I could say Dietrich Bonhoeffer was another 2014 obsession, but when compared to everything else this year wrought, Bonhoeffer slips down to the bottom of this post.  But that quilt remains one of my most pleasing accomplishments.

In May, I snapped this quilt at my daughter's house; I still am awed that I managed those corner squares as precisely as I did....

In May, I snapped this quilt at my daughter’s house; I still am awed that I managed those corner squares as precisely as I did….

And of course, Buttercup agrees.  What could be better than that?  Small joys of a happily napping hound pave the way for 2015.  More on those expected grandkids soon, and hopefully some concrete answers about my dad’s health.  I won’t even attempt to speculate on all that 2015 will present.  At least I don’t have to assume the Giants will take the pennant.  I have a whole year for them to sort out another championship, bless their hearts.  I wish for you a peaceful and fulfilling 2015.  It may not happen in a manner you would expect, but that’s the wonder of life.