Nancy’s 53rd drawing (she is 53 years old – did I mention that already?):

4 53 1

My 53rd stitching:


Eggs have no business dancing with stones. ~ Italian proverb

The first thing that caught me about this one as I sat with purpley-threaded needle poised, ready to pierce the fabric was an egg. In the center. An egg, traditional symbol of creativity, spring, regeneration.


Whether it is rearranging furniture or writing a book of fiction or painting or designing a garden or drawing what at first might seem to be indecipherable shapes or weaving or making jewelry or taking photos or stitching what at first glance might seem indecipherable shapes into fabric, creativity is as necessary as oxygen. I’ve seen it, I’ve felt it too many times to count: creativity is a veritable fountain of youth and one powerful tonic.

Making the new familiar and the familiar new – that’s a favorite type of creativity. Resourcefulness – making do with what’s on hand, that’s a type of creativity, too. And fertility? Well, that’s creativity in a class all by itself.

When Nancy was a young adult, her mother called me several times to talk about authorizing a hysterectomy because Nancy was living with adults, many of whom are like Nancy – they simply don’t recognize the concept of personal boundaries or possible consequences of raging hormones. She was afraid, Mrs. Chambers, and she was sad. Incredibly sad. Can you imagine having to make this decision for your daughter who would never be able to make this decision for herself? It’s big, and it brings up a lot of stuff you didn’t even know was there.


That egg in Nancy’s drawing – is that a crack I spy at the top? Is it an embellishment? Maybe it’s a beauty mark.

For so many reasons, I was absolutely gobsmacked with the egg in the center of this drawing, so I broke from the standard-issue purple and embellished the egg in colorful beads. Sparkly, glass beads. In springtime colors, of course.

(I have really got to take these photos earlier in the day because twilight casts a decidedly blue light.)


She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning and read your way current.
And there’s a pinterest board, too.