Movie Date

i titter & coo / like i’m a cartoon / i congratulate you / as i leave the room

We’re in a group of about thirteen people all watching a film – and next to me my son sits in his white fur cap, content as possible. I watch him as he eats popcorn and tidily drinks from a small can of Sprite soda. His elven profile tears at my heart. I am rendered entirely helpless at how much I love him, and his sister, how they are my everything life and limb and body.

Today I dug into rent money to take my children – and two others – to the movie, and then for pizza dinner. I popped popcorn and hit the drugstore candy aisle and all that stuff because I will work for it, to give them a decent memory on their Winter vacations from school. All that work to try to get us to the theater on time and watching the film I am almost entirely disinterested; I check my phone as discretely as I can. I have a special exhaustion that seems fruitless and yet serene. I just have to move my body from here to there, to wash dishes, to cook pizzas, to direct children to wash hands or get ready for bed – et cetera, et cetera.

Last night was the second night in a row my son falls asleep right next to me, where I sit – crumpled up against me, his body turns heavy and his breathing even. As much as his interests have turned to school, for now (well – kickball and P.E., really), he is still a little boy who finds comfort in his mother. Why he seems so young and his sister – so much more sedate, darkling, older than her years – seems so grown, I do not know. It’s a rather dreadful juxtaposition as I’m torn between being too-important and not-important-enough, depending on which child I behold. Both children seek out my arms often and when I hold them I’m just wrecked in so many ways.

A Christmas package in the mail: a project knit in secret. Homemade Christmas cards. Yoga, and some time to myself on the mat. Breathing out a deep “cleansing breath” and feeling my face against synthetic plastic and knowing my husband is now at home, caring for the children. Dinner will be ready when I arrive and another day will come to a close.

Day in and day out, caring for younglings, one can learn quite a bit about the Right Stuff for the Right Reasons.

Movie Date

a story you can’t see

Today – at least – I snapped a picture of the jacket gifted to a wee gentleman at his 2-year birthday party.

Birthday Coat For J.

Double-sided fleece, self-drafted pattern. Super-pointy hood and seven hand-made pom poms. Trippin on pom pom-makin, biatches

***

Yesterday morning I wake –

after only a few hours sleep –

to the most oppressive sense of fear.

Slaps me awake and lasts at least half the day. I’m up and I try to do a few things then rest, but I can’t. My mind keeps trying to find a way out of the fear. I can’t think of anything else for long, before jolting back. Might as well make the coffee. Hot shower. Time to get up and go. Got responsibilities.

My mind like to drive me mad. Thinking, thinking, over-thinking. Trying to set it aside but it rises up again through my body. Fear racing through my chest and my kids talk to me, my husband asks after me, and I answer as best I can when I can pull my mind off the fixation. Can they tell? I don’t know. I don’t think so. They’d ask if they knew something was wrong.

Days like today I remember smoking. Pulling on a cigarette, getting that edge. Somehow it always seemed to help, keep me in that space of what I thought was alertness, but in reality: agitation.

And anyway: I quit smoking a while back. And now I’m over the bridge and into breaking sunlight when I know the only thing that will help me, since I’ve done prayer on my knees and lit a candle and eaten food and tried to breathe and tried to quit thinking, is to Help Others. Help Without Regard For Return. It’s not even like I think I get some reward if I help. It’s that the state of Helping takes me somewhere different, and things shift, and clarity comes.

My daughter wraps her arms around me. “Love me,” she says. I hold her and kiss the top of her head, her dry straw-scented hair; Heaven. Later. Running bath water. Kitchen light low. Hot water and a tablespoon of molasses. A heater ticks in the dark. My arm: aching. The laughter of my son in another room.

Cold to the bone, a darkness stretching out. Only a small candle but it’s enough.

 

 

 

 

slant rhyme

made some hats
need some scratch

Pom-Poms

buy this batch?

Also: if you are a local, I am looking for babies and kids as models, so I can photograph some of my creations. I have several items that are not being published in any way because I do not have children to model them. I am hoping especially for newborns in the zero to three months’ range; also kids up to three. AND of course any child model (and carer) gets a lovely Hoga-playdate plus a hand-sewn or hand-knit bit of loveliness from YOURS TRULY.

So. That’s it, for now.

creatures of the night

"Raquel" On Her 2nd Night Hostessing
Ralph aka “Raquel” in night two of MCing at a mini-drag show at the Theatre. He was by far the most beautiful and elegant lady there.

Movie Night

Up late; old movie. Warm blankets and wry quips.

Phee, Ready For Bed

 

Phee: my nighttime snuggle date. Drawing, sketching as per usual.

***

This afternoon:

Pressure cook beans and then I kept them on too high and vented pressure and it went nuts; formed like a bean-water spa, but since I’d rinsed them well after soaking it was a rather pleasant smell / carefully set outside on the porch and then:

Slice up carrots and garlic and the leftover ham; carefully dice canned whole tomatoes making sure no stem or skin passes into the soup, seasoning and broth and raw spinach stirred in at the end /

a cast iron skillet of cornbread

bowls on the big table, set for however many kids were running in and out. Cutting a paper pattern and answering the phone, helping other alcoholics stay sober for Today

washing dishes in hot soapy water and listening to Promise and the Monster

a fine mingling of letting go and holding on

“That’s what I can do with my fifty dollars,” my daughter muses quietly, mostly to herself. I say, What’s that? and she replies, “I can give it to a homeless person.” She turns her eyes to me; they are large, liquid brown, filled with love; her eyes are smiling. “The eyes of the Buddha”, a friend recently reported to me about this child.

I wrap my arms around her while we wait in line; a small number of household sundries in the Walmart. I had a rough morning today, worse than I’ve had in a while. Being out with my daughter is balm, soothing my nerves.

It’s cold enough out that in the evenings and early mornings one has to be careful not to slip on black ice. It gets dark so early it feels like I’m living in darkness. Today a friend mentions Spring and it reminds me how deep into winter I go. I resign myself to the cold and depths, and I hold on for dear life. Somehow I forget that Spring comes, I really do.

[ deep breath ]

look what I can do!

Harley's Faux Fur Vest

One piece of two, made for my friend A. for her Christmas gifts. Also, my beautiful daughter modeling (she is the same height as the recipient; thinner). Information about the garment at the bottom of the post.

Harley's Faux Fur Vest

One fur hook at neck, for closure. If the recipient wants more hooks installed I will do this gratis. It hangs very nicely but swings a little with movement.

Harley's Faux Fur Vest

Harley's Faux Fur Vest

Very insulating. It was quite cold when we walked to the coffee shop & phee, with her arms exposed, was perfectly warm.

Harley's Faux Fur Vest

In this case, my client selected and brought me the fabric and the lining. This is something I am often not into doing but it worked out great. This faux fur was quite a bit more challenging than YETI-riffic fur. Additionally, it required lining up not only a striped pattern, but a striped pattern in a scallop. Yeah, I know! A total challenge. However I lucked out with yardage spacing, and returned quite a bit of faux fur to the client who now is pondering what she might or might not want to make with it. Faux fur is fabulous, but it is also quite bulky. I think some boot liners/leg warmers would be choice!

Harley's Faux Fur Vest

The lavender satin the client chose was so pretty – and a nice weight, making for a garment with a lot of weight. Very delicious. I added in-seam pockets, also in satin.

Harley's Faux Fur Vest

Very silky fur! Phee is not so excited about being a model here. Can you tell?

Harley's Faux Fur Vest

Close-up of the armscye binding. An over-dyed cotton print, which I also used to make the thread-drawn patch:

Harley's Faux Fur Vest

EXTREME CLOSE UP

Harley's Faux Fur Vest

This faux fur had a nice drape. I drafted a self-facing for the jacket, which is flipped over here to show you the inside of the garment.

Harley's Faux Fur Vest

Harley's Faux Fur Vest

Harley's Faux Fur Vest

Phee & her DGAF face. I think I might start paying her to model. Children are more becoming when they smile!

Harley's Faux Fur Vest