Entries in from the little room (51)
tomorrow
A made a few more little things over the weekend for the shop...smaller prayer flag sets that are from the "story" series.
My hope is that someone out there reads the words on these flag sets and says, "Yes...that is my story."
Because really, for me, connections like that are why I wanted to begin to share my creations in the first place. To be on the other side of the connection I have felt so often with artists, writers, and others...
Tomorrow morning, I will post the link to my shop here...hope you will stop by!
(thank you)
from the little room, this is me ten things plus one
1. my shop is going to open on tuesday! here is another preview:
2. i watched roman holiday last night for, i think, the fourth time. i love that movie.
3. watching roman holiday made me want to get my hair cut ala audrey in the movie or like amelie. (i am going to keep it long though.)
4. jon and i keep our healing candle glowing almost all the time nowadays as we know (and know of) several people who are ill or are waiting for test results. i know it isn't much, but i hope it helps in some way.
5. gram is still in the hospital and needs some sort of procedure/surgery. it is scary.
6. when gram comes home, i am probably going to go and stay with my in-laws and help out. i am selfishly hoping that is soon! as i am excited because their town has so many antique stores. (okay, you know, all i really want is for her to be okay, but that is the spin i am putting on all of it to try to be a little silly.)
7. i have been working a lot lately and when i am not working, i am creating and organizing for my shop...i kind of want to go and see spiderman tomorrow just to do something that won't allow me to multitask. because even while watching tv or talking on the phone or eating or talking to jon, i am multitasking with photoshop or email or cutting or pasting or...how the list goes on and on.
8. i am so excited to have a banner fairy (she is rescuing me from this equation: photoshop + liz = tears).
9. i am trying to figure out what kind of ink might be "waterproof" enough to be used on flags that would go outside. anybody have any ideas?
10. after gorgeous days filled with sunshine, we are doing the nothwest grey thing now. i have to admit, i kind of like it. a day for sweaters. but i do hope the sun will come out...ahem...tomorrow.
+1. several people have signed up for the tea towel swap! if you want to join in, check out this post for details.
{updated: thanks for letting me know about the comments everyone. not sure why they were disabled...ahhh...blogger}
from the little room, lists meet selma
Selma was my mother’s grandmother on her father’s side. She was the one who taught my mother how to knit (it is her voice my mother is remembering in the poem I wrote back in February). She was also the quilt maker in the family, and I believe she taught my mother how to sew patches together to make quilts (as my mother has made a couple, too).
Selma was married three times, which some might say was a bit scandalous during her day. Once while visiting my grandparents, my grandfather showed me pictures from an album his mother had kept of a trip to, I am guessing, “the Cities” in Minnesota. It would have been sometimes before 1920. In those photos she looks happy and more than a bit mischievous. The two couples on the trip are giggling and posing like kids escaping to the big city for the first time ever.
It is so unfortunate that so many of us never really get to know our great-grandparents. There are so many questions I want to ask her now that I am old enough to understand that I have questions. I was lucky enough to know her for the first 10 years of my life though.
I remember that she was still a bit mischievous in that she enjoyed teaching me how to make odd noises from the back of my throat while we waited in the car for my mother. I actually think Selma’s sister, my Great-Great Aunt Dora, was with us and was saying things like, “Stop that Selma! Her mother is going to be upset.” Making odd noises was, to say the least, something I was expected not to do as a child.
I remember going to the fabric store with her to pick out material for a quilt we were going to make for me. Though, we never did make it, the blue fabric for trim and the backing and the leaves cut out from coordinating fabric sits somewhere in a box in my mother’s house.
I remember being bribed by the purchase of “Queen Elizabear” so that I would not complain about staying home with her while my parents went to work while she was visiting. I must have been about 8 or so. At the time, I didn’t really have much in common with an 86 year old who was more than a little crotchety.
I also remember watching my mother with her grandmother. I guess even though I wasn’t conscious of it, I understood that she loved her as much as I loved my grandmother. And, the funny thing is, even though those two (Selma and my grandmother, who was her daughter in law) never really got along, they were a lot alike. Private, grumpy at times, particular, impatient. Yet, women who could laugh and loved, even if those around them didn’t get to see this side too often.
A pink quilt rests atop our guest bed in our current home. My great-grandma made it for me in 1977, maybe a present for my first birthday. I think about the sense of wonder she might have had that her granddaughter had a daughter. I think about her sewing that love for my mother and by default for me into that quilt. I think about all the quilts she made for people and the rag rugs she sold. I think about her being a divorced single parent at a time when people did not divorce. I think about her healing with each stitch and with each aha moment as she put fabric together to create pieces of art left behind for us. The ones who are here because she loved my great-grandfather enough to have a son.
So it is in her memory that I felt moved to tackle patchwork this month. And these totes are a few I have created in the midst of my own aha moments, stitch by stitch…
Meet the Selma Totes…
(soon to be found in my shop, the little room, later this month)
from the little room two words {self-portrait challenge}
In this month’s issue of Domino, there is an article about two women in BC who are image consultants who will ask you a series of questions (on the phone), then converse with one another, then call back, and tell you two words that are your style statement. They have created a creative science of sorts and have some sort of system that they use. The author writes about how these two words became guidelines for people who had paid for this service. Phrases like “Sophisticated Era” and “Classic Genuine” seemed to change the lives of these people. They went through their closets and homes and decluttered based on these words. They began to choose their clothes and sofas based on this style statements.
Separate from how one might feel about spending $500 for two people who don’t know you even a little to tell you your style statement, I am intrigued by this idea of two words that would symbolize who I am, who my heart hopes and longs to be. Two words to remind me to recognize who I am.
I have been thinking about this article quite a bit since I read it over the weekend. Not really feeling drawn to set up an appointment with these women (though knowing my style statement might be interesting), but rather just intrigued by the idea of thinking about two words that would be a personal mantra for myself. I even had a moment when I kind of put out into the universe that I was open to recognizing my two words.
Yesterday, I received an email from a blog reader who had read yesterday’s post. She explained how she could relate to parts of my story. In her note she said, “I know you are strong, a spiritual warrior.”
My two words.
Spiritual warrior.
I know there might be other words out there, other phrases that represent me…that speak to who I am. But, right now these two words vibrate within me. (Thank you for them.)
As I sift through the past and make choices about how to react to the life behind me so that I can live in this life right now, I am indeed a spiritual warrior. I fight my way through the feelings to find what is underneath. I sit in the quiet and notice. I practice so that I can be ready for the unexpected. I breathe. I breathe. I breathe. So that I can recognize. So that I will see myself. So that I will know myself.
As I chose an outfit for today, I felt like I wanted to wear a dress. It was a beautiful summer-like day here in the Puget Sound area. As I chose a sundress from my closet, I also grabbed a pair of pants to wear underneath the dress. Just in case. After all, a warrior has to be ready for battle, even in a dress.
*****
Thank you for your comments and emails about my post yesterday. It means so much. To know I am not alone. To know you are out there reading. My heart is full with your support and kind, kind words. Thank you.
*****
Visit self-portrait challenge to see more responses to "street photos."