Tag Archives: Roxy Music

Tucking Away the Words

A great feeling is returning to the written work, seven hundred words on Monday, a chapter’s completion today.  I had left myself with quite a conundrum, as Klaudia has learned about Eric’s affliction, and I don’t merely mean his crippled arm.  How in the world I was going to address her reaction had been set aside until this week, but I think I managed a fitting segue into what happens next, and now to just keep adding to the story, one half or third or quarter chapter at a time.

Playing Carcassonne yesterday with Little Miss; she likes placing the men on every tile, regardless if the tile is hers.

It’s like a rose; layers of petals unfold to the center that holds the sweetest scent.  It’s like how Roxy Music ended their 2001 concerts with “For Your Pleasure”, each performer taking a bow, leaving only the pianist as the arrangement became more sparse, although that seems a backwards manner in which to describe a novel’s conclusion, but this book is so long that only a few loose threads remain.  What Klaudia has learned seems unbelievable, but Lynne proffered a way to absorb that truth in a manner that only mothers could share.  Of course, Klaudia doesn’t simply accept Lynne’s reasoning, not only for the sake of continuity.  There are still other issues I need to wrap up; Klaudia and Marek are a part of Eric’s story, but now that I’ve tackled one twist, the rest are just a matter of time.

Tummy time for Miss Em, two months old and enjoying her freedom.

Time to write is the key, but this abuela will squeeze in prose however it falls.  Miss Em’s baptism was a splendid affair, and her big sister is talking up a storm.  I’m hoping to spend some days with The Burrito in March, then we’ll be away for Easter, and the rest of April is abuzz with guests and trips away.  But I’m feeling very centered regardless of interruptions; reading over old novels affirms my love for spinning a yarn, as well as reminding me how far I have come in that endeavor.  Another idea sits on the horizon, again spurring me to complete The Hawk so I can dive head-first into another realm.  When I began writing, I was grateful my kids were nearly done with high school, time an abundant element.  The nietos won’t be tiny forever, and I relish being a part of their lives.  All these pieces of my existence are getting along, it’s just a matter of embracing how they coalesce for the greater good.

These days are beyond precious, enough time for all blessings.

This is what I need to remember when scenes are balky or I’m weary, or a baby won’t nap; there is a time for all things.  Tucked away in my back pocket are words, also keys to other doors.  If one doesn’t fit, try another.  Eventually the correct path appears, taken one step at a time.

The rechristened Roxy Music quilt….

“I tried, but I could not find a way.”

Sometimes the best plans go awry; I truly didn’t mean to resurrect this quilt.  I meant to cut out the best square, preserving it in some fashion.  However, when I sat to do the actual removal, my heart said No.

“Looking back all I did was look away.”

Herein lies the basis for my artistic guidelines; follow the gut instinct regardless of what seems more appropriate.  Hence the length of The Hawk, ahem, but also put into practice when it comes to sewing.

“Next time is the best time, we all know.”

Chopping this piece into smaller bits felt wholly wrong, and suddenly all the scraps littering my table, plus some rescued from overflowing tubs, became quite useful.  The only hindrance to writing up this post was the pesky sun, and how inadvertently I kept finding more broken seams to cover.

“But if there is no next time, where to go?”

But why call it a Roxy Music quilt?  “Re-Make/Re-Model” is from their first album, summing up what I’m doing with this project.  That wasn’t my intent, yet in choosing fave scraps as well as some plain white fabric alongside bright threads, I have reclaimed this quilt from where it began, turning it into a comforter for the 21st century.

“She’s the sweetest queen I’ve ever seen (CPL593H).”

The back fabric is in good shape, now spruced up by purple, blue and pink.  Maybe as time goes on, I’ll incorporate other shades, but for now these threads work fine.

“See here she comes, see what I mean (CPL593H).”

I’ve been mending this quilt for several evenings now; the impetus for saving this project was in part due to my need for a new evening hand-sewing task.  I’ve come to revel in those nighttime stitches, whether or not sport lingers in the background.

“I could talk talk talk talk myself to death.”

Of course, I’ve set myself up for eons of patching, but something about that feels liberating, as if giving this quilt an entirely new life.  While the top was fraying, the rest is in good shape, part of what seemed so criminal in cutting into it.

“But I believe I would only waste my breath (ooh, show me).”

I didn’t wish to destroy it, but breathe into it another existence.  I could have titled this post The Pleasure of Being Crafty Part Three, but talent with needle and thread only scratches the surface, which is outwardly all it seems I’ve done.  Yet this quilt is more now than a recycled comforter; it’s indicative of embracing what seemed unnecessary by adding my own stamp(s).  My breath is now a part of this piece, for better or worse.  Better, I believe, for the quilt as well as the tune.