a reminder

To know what you prefer, instead of humbly saying "Amen" to what the world tells you you ought to prefer, is to keep your soul alive.
Robert Louis Stevenson

inspirations, october 3

nancy pelosi

this post and this post by the brave and wicked smart jen lemen

the delightful first episode of "pushing daisies"

daydreaming about a vacation

fall days spent in my "office clothes"

the textures, colors, and names of jen's jewelry

the burst of energy that follows days of procrastination

overheard while walking in circles, week 3

Deb Talan reminds me:
Now you only dream in peaceful blue
The morning doesn't even scare you anymore
You are a phoenix with your feathers still a little wet
Baby, the ashes just look pretty on your eyes.

The Cranberries picks up the pace with:
Oh my life is changing everyday
Every possible way

Frou Frou sings:
So let go, jump in
Oh well, whatcha waiting for

Keith Urban keeps me going with:
'Cause days go by
I can feel 'em flyin'
Like a hand out the window in the wind.
The cars go by
Yeah it's all we've been given,
So you better start livin' right now
'Cause days go by.

Kelly Clarkson invites a little grin with:
But since you've been gone
I can breathe for the first time
I'm so movin' on
Yeah yeah
Thanks to you
Now I get
What I want
Since you've been gone

Dashboard Confessional sings a few of my current favorite lines:
I watch you spin around
In the highest heels
You are the best one
Of the best ones

Tina Turner does what she does best with:
Cause I don't have no use
For what you losely call the truth
You better be good to me

The Dixie Chicks remind me of the truth:
Well, I fought with a stranger and I met myself
I opened my mouth and I heard myself
It can get pretty lonely when you show yourself
Guess I could have made it easier on myself

But I, I could never follow

Paul Simon sings his sweet song:
I figure that once upon a time I was an ocean
But now I'm a mountain range
Something unstoppable set into motion
Nothing is different, but everything's changed

the "no one is going to stop me (not even me)" playlist

"Ashes on Your Eyes" by Deb Talan
"Let Go" by Frou Frou
"Days Go By" by Keith Urban
"Since You've Been Gone" by Kelly Clarkson
"Stolen" by Dashboard Confessional
"You Better Be Good to Me" by Tina Turner
"The Long Way Around" by the Dixie Chicks
"Once Upon Time There Was an Ocean" by Paul Simon

a little post about an apron

There is something delightful about custom-making a creation just for yourself. You see the piece in your mind and imagine the little touches you want it to have and picture where you will wear it or put it in your home. With each stitch, you know you are making a gift for yourself. You can sigh with less frustration when you have to undo mistakes you might make along the way. You can smile with that "oh it is perfect" smile when you put it on or place it where it belongs.

Last month, I created an apron just for me...

I wanted a skirt look, so I made it large enough to meet at my waist in the back. The front pocket closes with Velcro, so that it can hold my wallet or needlecase and seam ripper or change when it becomes my cashbox of sorts when I sell my creations at shows. I added the side pocket at just the right length to rest my hand inside it and to have access to whatever I might need.

I have found it to be the perfect accessory when I run errands, especially when my hands are full. Like today when I needed to mail nine packages and fill out five custom forms and other things at the post office.

The top pocket held my wallet, Starbucks card (because morning PO runs means stopping at the drive-thru Starbucks, and today, I had the chance to drink up my first pumpkin spice latte of the season), and other items needed for the packages. The side pocket held my cell phone and keys. I felt like quite the apronista. I am also going to wear it when I go antiquing and thrifting. The pockets will easily hold my measuring tape, notepad, pencil, and other necessities, so that I don't need to find a place to put my purse when I need to measure something or open linens to check for stains or gasp with delight when I need to pick up the perfectly pleated vintage apron, like this one. (I had to get it. I just had to. Those pleats remind me of the kilts I wore for four years of boarding school back in Indiana. Love. Those. Pleats.)

Aprons as fashion indeed.

Today, I find myself needing an afternoon break from a bit of work stress. And, lucky me, because I work from home, I can give myself this needed break. I think I am going to spend time in the little room creating a few more of these aprons to sell at ArtFiberFest (and speaking of AFF, when I went to Teesha's site to grab that link, I saw that a few spots are left. You, yes you, should take a break from all that has been crazy in your life and head to this neck of the woods to spend time with some of the most fantastic people you have ever met in one of the most beautiful spots in the world...and get to learn while making a few things too). I think I'll tweak the pockets a bit to add some spots for tools the crafty+artsy person needs when creating. And, I am going to make these aprons in various sizes too because I do love that skirt look.

Oh and my apron is reversible. I will let Betty model the reverse side. (Though this apron is beyond too big for Miss Betty—a gal who has never seen a carrot stick she didn't like. The perfect pleated apron is more her size.)

And one more thing: Thank you so much for your kind comments on my Wednesday post. Thank you for reading my story, for understanding, and for filling me up with your words. Thank you.

(I am so blessed.)

love and truth

I cried my way through parts of today's Oprah as I listened to:

Phrases like "The kids think they have to keep things stable"
An 11-year-old boy saying, "when I found out they were getting divorced, it was like a dream died."
A mother saying about her (at the time) 9-year-old daughter, "We treated her like an adult. We didn't even think it affected her."

Yesterday, a post started writing itself in my mind and watching this show today has pushed me to write it here. Previously, I wrote about my feelings leading up to my trip back to the Midwest in April. I wrote about how "stuff" from my childhood, thoughts about my parents' divorce, feelings of anger and deep sadness were what came up for me when my dad told me he was going to get help for his drinking problem. The level of these emotions surprised me as I thought I would feel only relief if I were to ever receive that phone call. (I won't go into the details of my reaction again here; you can read it more in context in that past post.)

When I went to what is called "family week" back in April, I had very low expectations about the experience. I did not want to be there, not even a little bit. The counselors gave the family members homework for that first night. Mine was to write a letter to my dad that would explain my feelings about his alcoholism and how it affected me, along with a whole long list of other things. When I called my friend Heather to tell her about the homework and all the items on the list, she said, "So, this is due in a month right?" It felt like I was supposed to write the thesis of my life or at least of my childhood.

That night, I sat in my hotel room and let the emotion pour out of me as I sobbed through each sentence. Today, as I write this, I realize that I had actually never put on paper the feelings I wrote about that night, let alone said them aloud to someone who needed to hear them. Though, I have to credit all the writing I have done on this blog with giving me the courage and "clearness through emotion" to write what I wanted to say. When I finished writing, I felt I had accomplished sharing the truth of my experiences without placing blame but instead by just saying what it felt like and what my experience was.

As I wrote in the post here last May, being a child of divorced parents fractures you. This does not mean that as an adult I have a need to place blame (because I know I do not have this need) or that I am not thankful my parents are not together (and I am thankful for this) or that I wish my life had gone differently (because I am happy to be in this place and know I would not be here without my experiences…all of them). What is does mean though is that I will not apologize for the feelings I had then or the ones I have now. Those feelings belong to me. They are all about me. And, the experience of writing that letter helped me to realize that my need to play a certain role or protect the feelings that I perceive others have needs to stop being more important than the truth of my experience. Meaning: It is time I start being honest with myself.

Part of the letter I wrote my dad included the assignment of setting specific boundaries. Goodness me. If I had a dollar for every time I have encouraged other people to set boundaries or said I needed to set them…but to be forced to write, "When you do this, I feel this, so I am going to have to do this to feel safe" was quite an experience. To read it aloud was one of the most powerful moments of my life.

I read the letter to my dad on the last day I was there (family week is only three days long). I shared my experience of being a child in my family. I shared what it was like for me when he left. I shared pieces of who I am now. I set boundaries I needed to set. And, I asked for what I needed knowing I may not receive what I need.

It was possibly one of the hardest things I have ever done.

But, it is one of the things that makes me the most proud of me. Because I knew that it actually didn't matter how my father reacted. I had finally shared some of the heavy stuff I carry around in the backpack that is the baggage of my life.

And, something incredible happened that day. My father heard me. He heard me and listened to me. And, part of what I said resonated deeply enough that what he said in response gave me a true gift. Someone in my family, the last person I expected to, understood what it was like to be me when my family broke apart. Someone who most needed to understand, understood, even if just for that moment.

God lifted something off my heart that day.

Watching Oprah today, hearing M. Gary Neuman say how important it is for parents to simply listen to their children when the family is breaking apart, invited me to think about part of what I said in my letter to my dad. I said something about how even though my feelings leading up to this moment were filled with anger and resentment because I had to talk about all of this now because he had decided to get help (so things were once again on a parent's terms and not mine), I knew that I had been given the gift of this moment to share how I was feeling. Because the truth is, I have been wanting to share what I said that day for over a decade. And, today, after watching Oprah, I realize how that was the first time I had been able to really share the truth with someone in my family.

We must be able to tell our stories. We must be willing to listen when someone needs to share her story, even when it is about us, even when it might hurt us. We cannot forget that we have our own truth of the experience regardless of what the other person says her experience was.

Even though I have my father's blessing to share what I want and need to here or with others, I haven't talked much about my experience in April for many reasons. One reason being because it feels like it sits in a sacred bubble back in April, and I, probably like any child of a recovering alcoholic who experiences family week, worry that to talk about it with my family, my dad, others, might make it not real or might take away from the experience or might make my dad's recovery not real somehow. I worry as I write this that if I honor the experience publicly here, I might affect my life in ways I cannot anticipate.

But I want to say this: No matter who you are—a parent, a child, a partner, a friend, a sibling—you never know what might happen if you tell your story to someone in a way that is from a place of love and truth.

Because in many ways, I think this might be what it is all about: love and truth.

Thank you for reading…

inspirations, september 23

the photos irene shares on her blog

time spent with a "blog world now dear real world friend" at the tacoma art museum (check out deb's post about day together)

spending sunday mornings with charles osgood (especially today's flashback about marcel marceau)

kindness

mugs of J. Garcia magic herb tea

the quirky world that is Season 3 of "Northern Exposure"

sketching ideas and making lists in my moleskine

today

holding hands on the couch, 9.22.07

Last night, around 2 AM, I became violently ill. (That worst kind of middle of the night "I am sitting on and cannot move from the very bathroom fixture toward which I need to be facing" kind of ill.) And, my husband took care of me in all my, well, let's be honest, in all my grossness. He never once invited me to feel worse than I already did. (Thank you my dear friend.)

So today has been a day filled with:

Glasses of Powerade and meals of oyster crackers.
An episode of the "History Detectives" (during which I announced, "I think I have actually found what it is I want to do with my life").
The "Nature" episode about hippos. (Two words. Holy crappoly. They are the wackiest, coolest creatures.)
A pick-me-up first quarter of the Notre Dame football game (the rest of the game, well, the rest of the game did not so much improve my spirits, me being a ND grad and all).
Holding hands on the couch.
Taking an "I don't think I moved from this position for two hours" nap.
Adding a few more rows to the scarf I am crocheting.
Eating a dinner of rotisserie chicken, corn, and tater tots (somehow this was the combination that sounded good…perhaps because it is a bit like a Thanksgiving meal in a way, which does seem to comfort).
Lots of very kind words uttered by my husband as he basically spent the entire day taking care of me.
Spending a wee bit of time on the sewing machine doing some quick rows of patchwork.
Being very thankful that I have not experienced additional rounds of whatever got me last night (we are thinking food poisoning from the fish I had at dinner perhaps…ugh).
More holding hands on the couch.
Watching an episode of "Dr. Who" followed by an episode of (what is becoming my new favorite sci-fi show) "Torchwood." Ladies, have you seen that Captain Jack Harkness?? My oh my.

I wanted today to be filled with:

A lot of sewing in preparation for ArtFiberFest vendor night (according to Teesha's site there are a few spots left...you should come out here for it...I'd love to see you).
Walking along Ruston Way.
Eating breakfast at The Spar (when you come, I will take you to eat breakfast there…the view of The Sound is incredible).
Another two hours toward completing "The Great Cleanup/Organization of 2007."
More sewing.
Prepping my shop for the "last day of summer sale that will last the first week of autumn" I planned to begin today (it is going to have to wait until Monday I think as I another nap is probably in order right now…but this is a little teaser to say: all the purses in my shop are going on sale Monday as I want to move on to some fall items/fabrics and all that good stuff…and I think it will just be fun to have a sale every now and then...)

Even though I didn't feel up to doing all that I wanted today, sitting on the couch and holding hands was just about the most perfect way to spend the day a girl could have I think...it's kind of an unexpected gift of slowing down and remembering...

Hope you were able to slow down a bit this weekend too...

i come to the water

more poem notes (or maybe an early, early draft of a poem) on this thursday...

I come to the water
to breathe in
salt,
hope,
shadows
I come to the water
to remember
her laughter
I come to the water
because I fear
forgetting
everything
I come to the water
to open
a space
inside me
I come to the water
to find
pieces of the past
I come to the water
to grieve
I come to the water
to let go
I come to the water
to seize life

head on over to jillypoet's for another thursday of the traveling poetry show...