She Was...

Two weekends ago the annual high school girls weekend coincided with our 30 year high school reunion. I saw the girls but did not attend the reunion because high school days are a black hole of despair for me. My brother committed suicide as I started a new high school. Blech.  I still ended up sad and off course, returned to the stress and sadness of those years, When we get together, it brings up all my old shameful memories of hating myself and being self destructive. By the time the weekend ended I had spent the last evening alone crying. I decided I couldn't put myself through another weekend with the pull of yuck that always comes up. They have so much fun. It makes me feel abnormal.


The next week I turned to my hands and spent an afternoon working on my She Art Workshop project. Before I knew it I was writing this phrase for her because that is where I am. Again and again...

The next weekend we hosted a lake weekend for my daughter and three of her girlfriends who will be high school seniors. I remained in that space of my own past. I watched them and realized there is no reason why all four of them still have to be best friends in more than 30 years. But on the other hand if the relationships continue to evolve and bring joy then okay, bring on the epic friendships.


I am sorting through some painful memories and decisions. I try to use gratitude to transform suffering and in order to love that lost girl I am saying prayers of thanks for some things I know I did well during the dark lost years...


Joined drill team. Nothing was like Friday night football and the sound of the drum line echoing off the bleachers, that Doppler effect of horns.


I wrote. A bunch. Articles for the newspaper. Journal pages, poetry. Letters to babe.


I took pictures. Learned photography. Received my beloved Nikon from my dad who believed in my passion and gave me the path to a life long purpose.


I made good grades. Bad choices but good grades.


I worked hard and put myself through college.


I survived when I didn't care if I did.


Mainly, importantly, thankfully I chose great girlfriends. The love was real then. It's better now.

Another thing I know is during yucky dark feelings the colors of my She Art canvas are pretty, soft yet rich. Joy came out of my hands.

And this IS the best I can do.

Shine

I recently received a very gracious invitation to a Private Kaari Meng Event hosted by Shea Fragoso and Deb Murray at The Church in Dallas. Jemellia and I attended and were simply elated, dizzy even.

There was laughter, tears, tools and a little bit of embarrassment on my part.

I sign up for these events, workshops and art classes for 3 reasons. First is to create and learn new skills. Creating is life-giving for me and I mean that in the dramatic way it sounds. Creating centers me and makes me return to that divine, child-like self who makes something then runs through the house saying "Mama, look, looky what I made."

 Necessary.

Second is I want to interact with like-minded women. I have always loved the company of women. I enjoy men and their productive simplicity, but I yearn to fly my pink patchwork girl flag. And my classmates get it. I can be my true self. A little obnoxious, a little off-color, emotional and comedic. Also love a kit, a challenge and the task at hand.

Comforting.

Thirdly, it forces me out of my insular world so I am challenged, forced into a group setting, a new physical place, all innately uncomfortable for me. I'm not comfortable walking into a room I have not seen and a group of people I do not know. It is interesting that I have been a college adjunct professor for over 20 years where I am constantly walking into a room of strangers and performing. That is also my best talent. By the end of each semester, I think my students have been introduced to some biological information and understanding on a deeper level. In turn, I am filled by getting to know them and what they remind me about myself. But, I shake and quake before absolutely every lecture, every event and every class of every kind I walk into. The fear is instructive. So I keep doing it. However, I always recriminate and lash myself for what my mouth said.

Uncomfortable therefore instructive.

I am feeling weird and gross after this Kaari Meng Gilded Life event. I have been joking about my love for Kaari for a while. I have gone so far as to say I would just hump that sweet lady's leg because I love her so much. Oh that's all funny until I stammer, stutter and act all goofy-star-struck around her. Yuck on me. What the hell? I mean we are peers in age, why am I such a dip shit? I just was not myself in my own skin in her company. I wanted her to like me so much that I was probably unlikeable. I have two more events to attend where I've signed on for 3 more classes with her. I feel embarrased. I mean, I know it doesn't cross her radar screen because she meets so many people. Oh and by the way, one reason I admire her so much, other than love and respect for her artistry, is the fact that she really tries to connect with each person she speaks to. And hungry 'ol me was making the least out of that.

The above is an amalgam I made of charms given to each student. Initial charm by Shea and Debbie, a flower charm from Heather Ales and a couple of dangles from Kaari's kit.

The outcome.

Confronting fear is the real reason I need to keep doing things like this workshop. To meet new people, see new things, learns new skills, create and ultimately grow. Shit.

Framing the View

We built the house we live in and moved in 15 months ago. I had schemed all the colors, textures, hardware, lighting, flooring, ad nausem, down to the thread colors prior to moving which included buying all the window hardware and most of the fabric.



I set out to sew the first panel for the front room. I am used to sewing quilts or dolls which involves inches of straight grain cottons. Then I selected this linen and rayon or some slinky thing and there were miles of it. I made the first puckered pathetic panel. I gave in and called someone in who gave me a bid, took my fabric and returned with the panels. And a bill. The panels were not quite what I had in mind and neither was that bottom line. What is the point of bidding a job if the final bill is a different number? Anyhow, they were done and we had some privacy. Now a year later I still don't have the drapery on those windows. The ceiling is really tall and those windows need some drama. Strike that, they need something dramatic, I really don't want drama. I am trying to avoid drama, that is why I have had this fabric waiting for so long... but it is just two windows.

I have now owned the striped fabric below for a year and a half. I went looking for a nice taupe lining fabric and came home with this dramatic heavy tapestry in green, hmmm. I started thinking how cool for the panels to be reversible. Perfect plan for one who really doesn't always even remember how to thread the machine.

This is a really nice room and I have substandard skills. But I have a particular event that I am using as the deadline. I think I am ready.... I have done my figuring.

I'm scared. There are 24 yards of fabric.

The first cut is the deepest.

So I cut one and hem it, cut another and hem it then cutting the reamaining fabric, I realize Hancock Fabrics has shorted me one yard. So I have 23 not 24 yards of fabric.

I spend the morning driving to different Hancocks looking for the fabric. There is none.

I have to start again looking for lining fabric. Not today. I am frustrated.

But....

It is Memorial Day. There are dead soldiers. And its only fabric.....