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Presenting Block 2 of The 70273 Project

February 16, 2016 / jeanne / 0 Comments

This is a 9.5″ x 12.5″ block.

As you can see in this closeup,
I stitched down some transparent white ribbon
stitching it down all around to prevent the edges from curling up
These quilts will be handled and transported a lot,
so a girl has to think about this kind of thing.
On top of the white ribbon, I stitched down some narrow
sparkly, festive red ribbon using a technique called couching.
Here’s a video if you prefer ~~live~~ recorded action.
It’s a very simple stitch. And I do mean very.

Ribbon turns a studio into a gym

if you’re a grandcat.

I’m hatching an idea about a 31-day challenge.
You know, create a block a day for 31 days.
What do you think?
It’s a surefire way to turn your creativity loose.
I just need to work out a few details in my head.
Stay tuned for more info.

On behalf of myself and the 70273 people we commemorate,
thank you for telling at least 3 people every day,
for making blocks,
and being a part of this project in whatever way(s) you choose.
Keep those good ideas and questions coming.

And before you go, don’t forget to subscribe.
We deliver to your front doorstep every morning
and we never break a window.

The 70273 Project: Fabric Info & Sizes of Blocks

February 15, 2016 / jeanne / 43 Comments

Today we’re gonna’ talk about making blocks for The 70273 Project, but first . . .

Less than 24 hours after launch, response to The 70273 Project has been quite exciting. I am plum (does it have a final “b” or not, I always get confused) tickled with the positive emails, Facebook posts, tweets, and Facebook messages I’ve received from all corners of the world. Yes, we are already a worldwide project! And get this: if everybody actually makes the blocks they’ve said they would, we only need 70,000 more blocks!

People have offered to host block parties in their homes and in local senior centers, help stitch the blocks together to make quilt tops, send money, quilt, asked me to pen guest blog posts, requested interviews, and plotted ways to host digital block parties just to give you an idea of the emails and messages I’ve received today. I declare, had today’s response been any more heartwarming, my heart would be a pile of smoldering ashes right now.

And boy oh boy have people helped get the word out, and let me tell you: that’s a tremendous help. Thank y’all so much, and please don’t stop. These 70,273 people deserve this. And now, about those blocks . . .

WHAT KIND OF FABRIC TO USE

Pretty much any kind of fabric is okay – 100% cotton, cotton/poly blend, wool, felt – those are all okay to use for the base of the block as long as it’s white or slightly off white. I’d prefer you steer clear of upholstery fabric because it’s thicker than other fabric, making it harder to stitch. And double knit is bad to stretch, so unless it’s absolutely all you have on hand, I’d ask that you steer clear of it, too.

As you can see in this first block I made, my white fabric is actually a white-on-white, which is fine because in fabric math white + white = white.

9.5″ x 12.5″ (24.x cm x 31.8 cm)

6.5″ x 9.5″ (16.5 cm x 24.2 cm)

3.5″ x 6.5″ (9 cm x 16.5cm)

BLOCK SIZE

The blocks you send me (the white fabric) can be any of the following sizes: 3.5″ x 6.5″ (9 cm x 16.5 cm) or 6.5″ x 9.5″ (16.5 cm x 24.2 cm) or 9.5″ x 12.5″ (24.2 cm x 31.8 cm). And when making the X’s, please allow a 1/4″ border all around to give me room to stitch the blocks together.

THE TWO RED X’S

In future blog posts we’ll talk about other ways to make the two X marks on the white base, but for now here’s the first block I made. Using a simple up-and-down stitch, I used scraps of red ribbon (off a Christmas gift) to make the X’s. (And no, I’m not a child of the depression or a hoarder.)

Oh, and as you see in the photo, it’s okay to let your knots show. Make the two red X’s any way you want, just be sure that:
~ there are two red X’s on each block
~ there are no letters of the alphabet, words, names, or numbers on the block – only two red X’s.

Why white?
Because white represents medical records, the only information assessing physicians used to make their life and death determinations.

Why two red X’s?
Because once two of three assessing physicians paced a red X on the bottom of the medical records, the person was murdered. Two red X’s equal one person.

Why no letters, words, names, or numbers?
Because two red X’s equals one person – the death sentence of one person, to be more exact, and words, letters, names, and numbers distract the brain from the emotional message we’re making here. When you see a room filled with quilts made of blocks with two red X’s, I imagine it’s going to be quite moving. Were you to see a name or initials or a word or even the number “70,273” thrown in, you would be immediately distracted. Words, names, numbers, and such engage the brain, and we are a project designed to engage the heart.

One more very important step: Once you’ve finished your blocks, please download, print, complete, and use a safety pin to attach the Provenance Form to your blocks and mail to the address on the form.

HOMEWORK

Y’all get your pencils out and write down your homework assignment.

Make a block. (Or at least gather the materials to make blocks.)
Using social media, the phone, or smoke signals, tell at least 3 people about the project.
Subscribe to the blog so you can tune in tomorrow when we’ll talk about . . . well, I don’t know just yet exactly what we’ll talk about, but it’ll be something related to The 70273 Project, for sure.

SaveSave

Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

February 12, 2016 / jeanne / 0 Comments

Books

Letting go . . . non attachment . . . honorable closure . . .

Furniture: gone.
Clothing: outta here.
Dishes: history.

I spent the last two months of 2015 clearing out, letting go, getting rid of, and I called it Operation Make Space for Possibility. It was fun and freeing, hard work and exhausting. (It was also quite effective in unexpected ways, but we’ll talk about that later.)

The one thing I couldn’t go near was my bookshelves, my book stacks, my book piles. Just couldn’t do it. So I sat with my books asking why it was so hard to part ways. “You think you’re not smart without us being within reach,” they told me. “We are stepping stones in your life story garden. We wrapped our pages around you to validate and confirm things you already Knew but were afraid to say out loud. You thought it was magic how we always appeared at just the right time, and you’re right, though you misspelled it. It was Magic. We’ve shared some good times, and now it’s time for you to step fully into the Abundance mindset and trust that you will Know what you need to Know when you need to Know it. And that what you don’t know, you’ll be able to find. So why don’t you let us go leap into the hands of some other woman who’s Ready.”

And with that, we come to an agreement. With no deadline in mind, I spend time with each book, letting it fall open to 3 places to show me three things she wants me to remember. I take a photo of the cover, make notes in my journal of what she wants me to hold onto, then I put her in my library bag and wish her well on the next leg of her journey.

We Never Had a Problem Sharing

February 2, 2016 / jeanne / 8 Comments

MaryChambers2

When I met her, she was on her hands and knees planting tulip bulbs around the patio in the backyard while Pepper, the Corgi, made laps around the base of the biggest pine tree in the yard in an apparent effort to build a moat or dig the tree up. We’re not sure which.

I met her 43 years ago, long before I got the memo saying Mothers of the Groom were to wear beige and keep. their. mouths. shut. Not knowing any better, I invited her to join my mother and me and go shopping for my wedding dress, among other things.

We took sewing classes together. We cooked together. We had long talks.

She put mustard on grilled cheese sandwiches.
Ask me how I found out.

MaryChambersWeddingAnnouncement

She was beautiful in the way young women were beautiful in the 1940s. Mr. Chambers told me that had it not been for the war, he probably wouldn’t have married her. “Well, you would have been a damn fool,” I assured him.

They were married on October 2, 1942 by an Army Chaplain in Hobe Sound, Florida. The bride wore a brownish dress with a matching hat that had a veil that tickled her nose. How do I know? I asked her.

AllDressedUpOnCruiseShip

When I asked her about the most adventurous thing that happened to her while traveling, she didn’t tell me about dressing up and winning the prize for her ~~obviously convincing~~ portrayal of a drunken hag on the cruise ship, she told me about how she played gin rummy with a sergeant all the way down to Bermuda where her new husband was stationed in World War II. Her first job as a married woman was as a court martial secretary, and who was there on her first day on the job but the sergeant she’d played so many hands of gin rummy with. “He was a bigamist,” she told me. “He had THREE wives.”

She could be funny – like the time she sent me a pair of clear plastic salad tongs for Christmas with a note that said “Try these with spaghetti.” Sometimes – when I disappointed her, for example – she wasn’t particularly funny.

“How’d you get along with your mother?” I once asked her.
“OK,” was all she said.
“How’d you get along with your daddy?”
“GREAT!”

After a morning of taking her mother to the doctor or to get groceries or just out for lunch, Mrs. C would call me: “Hello?” I’d answer, not knowing who was on the other end of the line because those were the days before caller i.d. (or even answering machines, for that matter).

“If I EVER get like my mother,” she’d say skipping the greeting and going straight to the point, “kick me.”

(Too many times to count, I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying “Bend over” cause let me tell you: she was the spittin’ image of her mother, though she fancied herself to be just like the daddy she adored.)

The first house we bought was right down the road from them, and because she liked to drop by during the day to take her friends on a tour (she liked what we did with the place, and she specially liked that I made the macrame headboard just like the one in the picture she tore out of a magazine for me) or to drop off two pies (a cherry pie for me and a strawberry pie for The Engineer – we could eat them back then without consequence), we gave her her own key to the place. She sewed the curtains for the front window . . . and she never quite forgave me for agreeing to leave them when we sold the house. I wish I had them right about now – I really do – but the buyers wanted the curtains, and we were young with many curtains yet to come, so those curtains stayed with the house.

MaryPlaysGolf

Years later, we bought a house in a new subdivision, and while the in-laws were out having a look, they spied a house one street over that captured their interest. Because they had long lived on the same street and because they lived in a beautiful house, she invited me to lunch to ask what I thought about them buying that house and moving there. Without a moment’s hesitation, I told her to buy it, and when she asked me why, I told her it was on a golf course, and I knew – I just knew – she’d enjoy playing golf.

MaryChambersHoldsNewbornAlison

They did move, and she did learn to play and enjoy golf, and as a bonus that I never even considered, when Alison was born, Mrs. C. was right around the corner and ready to help. I don’t know what on earth I would’ve done without her. I really don’t.

When we were first married, I watched Mrs. C. closely, and not just because watching people closely is my favorite kind of entertainment. I watched to see how she related to Nancy and Mr. C. and her boys. I watched their family communication model, the family dynamics. I took in how they related to each other. She taught me a lot without knowing it. A lot, I tell you.

I wish she’d never started smoking, but if that is too much to ask, I wish she’d been able to stop smoking. I have things I long to ask her, you know. Things I long to talk about. Things I long to apologize for. Mostly I want to thank her (again) for raising the man I married.

MaryChambers1

Today is not just Groundhog Day, it’s Mary Chambers’ – my mother-in-love’s – birthday.

the night that changed everything

January 27, 2016 / jeanne / 7 Comments

JeanneAndyFormal

a girl walks into a bar
and when the bartender asks
“what’ll you have?”
she says
“you.”
43 years ago tonight.

no joke.

it was luck that brought us together
and love that keeps us together
the kind of love laced
with gratitude and respect
with patience and kindness
the kind of love that deepens
with age.

he continues to bring out the best in me.

i love to make him laugh
to hear him lay out the future
and ask my input
to watch him load the dishwasher
(because he does it right, you know).

i don’t tell him
(and more importantly i’m not sure
i show him – because words can’t touch it)
often enough
how much i adore him.
that needs to – and will – change.

i don’t ever want us
to grow stale
or feel taken for granted
and that takes effort,
you know,
conscious, dedicated effort.

Pennsylvania27jan16c

my daughter and i went to a thrift shop
here in pennsylvania today
and it occurs to me only now
what i brought home:

Stretchnsewbook

his mother and i
had the most fun
taking these classes together.
we made t-shirts,
skirts, even swimsuits.
give us some of that dotted paper,
some thread and a length of double-knit fabric,
and there was nothing we couldn’t make
and nobody we couldn’t dress.
i miss those days
and i miss her.

Delftthimble

and this
ceramic delft blue thimble.
we visited the delft factory
– the engineer and i –
on our honeymoon
(our second honeymoon)
in september
43 years ago.

we met on january 27, 1973
became engaged on april 1, 1973
and said “i do” on july 31, 1973.
there was no need to wait cause
i knew a good guy when i met him
oh yes i certainly did.

What Now?

January 18, 2016 / jeanne / 4 Comments

Iool4withpaper1

Every time we visit Nancy,
I bring home a set of drawings.
First I scan them
then label them by set and drawing number
then I print them
and pin them to the fabric.

Iool4stacked2

I stitch through the paper
then pluck the paper off
using lighted tweezers to get the teensy little bits out.

IOOL4 035 copy

Iool4 35

I stitched two drawings a night,

IOOL4 036 copy

Iool4 36

and when we got sick
and sat on the sofa all day,

IOOL4 037 copy

Iool4 37

I stitched more than two,
so I finished more than a week ahead of schedule.

IOOL4 038 copy

Iool4 38

It was quite satisfying
to have a quota, a schedule, a plan
and meet it.

IOOL4 039 copy

Iool4 39

There are 95 drawings in In Our Own Language 4,
and I have no idea how to assemble them
now that I’ve stitched them all.
This is known as Entering The Unknown.
I’ve been in and out of The Unknown so many times,
I’m not ~~too~~ worried.
Eventually
I’ll see something that sparks an idea
or dream up an image
or somebody will say “Why don’t you . . . “
and I’ll be off and running again.
So if you have any ideas . . .

back in the saddle

January 12, 2016 / jeanne / 0 Comments

Lowes

we walked today, the engineer and i. walked for the first time since thanksgiving, really. holidays – travel – family – rain – coughing, coughing, and more coughing have put my fitbit on a pretty strict diet. i’ve missed walking. sure i’ve had 2 hours of found time to stitch every day, but walking is kindling. i solve problems when i walk. i get ideas when i walk. i clear cobwebs and make connections when i walk. i think at least 7 impossible thoughts every time i take a walk.

sometimes we walk up the falls and get our shoes muddy.
sometimes we walk in the gym and dodge basketballs.
sometimes we walk 4-8 laps through the grocery store before filling a cart with foodstuffs.
many night we walk laps around the sofa and dining room table and kitchen island.
sometimes – like today – we walk the aisles at lowe’s. the engineer drools his way down every aisle, and he never comes away empty-handed. me? i just wish fabric stores were as big with well-lit and well-defined aisles cause i’d like to walk, drool, and shop, too. i believe i could do it. i believe i’d be good at it.

i did not escape my notice that the snow shovels, sleds, and ice melt were directly across from – no more than 2 feet, i’m telling you – the seed packets and starter sets. doesn’t that just crack you up?

the good news is i’ve got my walking on again – feeding my fitbit regularly – and that’s a good thing. maybe i’ll even add that 15 minutes of yoga first thing every morning i’ve been dreaming about then pop a handful of almonds and enjoy a mid-afternoon (think 3:00) workout with resistance bands. cross your fingers. it’d be nice to do it for real instead of just in my imagination.

and all the while in the background, nancy still draws, and i still stitch.

IOOL4 034 copy

Iool4 34

In Our Own Language 4:34

Memories of Makings, part 1

January 9, 2016 / jeanne / 1 Comment

Corallamp

From our front window, I watched Granddaddy’s Ford come up the dirt road – slowly so as not to kick up the dreaded red dust that was bad to seep in and cover everything with a veil of grit – and pull into their driveway. We lived right across the road from them on land Granddaddy and Grandmother gave Daddy as a site for his first house. Their mailbox was a standard issue mailbox on a wooden post that leaned a little to the left and wobbled when mail was put in or taken out, but our mailbox was special. Daddy welded a chain with big, thick black links to stand up straight and hold our mailbox securely. Our mailbox didn’t lean or wobble, and with both men being named Crawford Hewell, I suppose this difference was more than aesthetics.

Because you could pull right up to it, we all used the side door instead of the back or front doors, and when the Ford stopped, Granddaddy turned off the engine, put on the parking brake, and pocketed the keys. But instead of going into the house – even before they took their suitcases out of the boot – Grandmother and Granddaddy headed straight for me – their first granddaughter – and they never once came empty handed.

Having buried four of their five children before I was born, they delighted in me and I in them. Usually it was dresses they brought. Frilly, ruffly shirtwaist dresses with a big sash that tied in the back. Whatever the fabric – plaid, polka dots, dotted swiss – the dresses always came with a petticoat that spread my skirt out big enough to seat six. And I ask you: what dress is complete without patent leather shoes of a color that matched the dress, and fold-down socks with rows and rows of lace? Sometimes there were gloves and a pocketbook. Maybe even a hat. Oh yes, I was well dressed and heavily accessorized.

But after a trip to Florida, they came bearing nothing wearable but a lamp festooned with colorful shells, dyed coral, palm trees, a plastic flamingo or two, and sometimes a seahorse – all set in plaster and celebrated in light when plugged in. I never, not once, slept in the dark thanks to Grandmother and Granddaddy Hewell.

As a child, I had an impressive collection of these lamps, and I adored every one of them. My eyeglass-clad hazel eyes glazed over at the site of these emblems of being cherished. I mean shoot, Grandmother and Granddaddy didn’t bring Mother and Daddy back a souvenir.

Yes, these lamps and these people were special to me, so you can imagine my delight and surprise when I came across another special book on our outing yesterday: Kitschy Crafts: A Celebration of Overlooked 20th-Century Crafts by Jo Parkham & Matt Shay. Just look at that cover, would you!

Bookcover

As a child, I was bad to make things. I turned the pump house into a veritable palace, using bushel baskets for stools at a counter I created from well, I don’t remember what, but something I found laying around. Not only was I out of Mother’s hair as I puttered around bringing order to the chaos of that pump house, my creativity blossomed in the process. I was never happier than when using whatever I had on hand or could lay claim to to create private spaces for myself.

Between the covers of this book are page after page of things I’ve made in my lifetime.

Stringart

Remember string art? I still have the boat I made for my father-in-law. I’ll show it to you next time I head to the attic.

Macramepocketbook

And macrame pocketbooks? As a flat-broke newlywed, my mother-in-law tore an article out of a Southern Living magazine and gave it to me cause she thought I’d like to make a macrame headboard for our bed. She was right. Again.

There’s more, but I’ve gone on way long enough, so I’ll show you more tomorrow.

~~~~~~~

I’m preparing to dust off and rev up an online trellis I offered two years ago for folks interested in finally sitting down to pen their life stories. If you’re interested, leave a comment here or on facebook or shoot me a note so I’ll know to let you know when I finish with the details.

What The Engineer and I Did Today (Rated G)

January 8, 2016 / jeanne / 4 Comments

Date Day. Recharge My Battery Day. Play Day.
Call it what you want,
but when The Engineer and I strike out for a day of it,
I never come home disappointed.
Today was no exception.

There was this:

Antiquetypewriter

and this:

Hands

and this:

Unnamed

I seldom go in search of anything but mirth.
Today, however, I declared myself in search of an orange dress,
and I came home with not one but two.
I can’t wait to show you what I have in mind for these beauties.

Orangedresses

Tucked in a dusty ole’ cluttered corner,
I spied this self-illustrated self-portrait
of and by one Tina Schart Hyman.
Having spent my entire life as a (volunteer) family
and (professional) personal historian,
I couldn’t leave this $2 treasure on the shelf.
Good thing I cleared out the bookcases a couple of weeks ago.

Selfportraitcoverpage

Selfportraitillustrations2

Selfportraitillustration

Turns out that Tina Schart Hyman
(1939-2004)
was a talented, well-recognized
illustrator of children’s books.
A Caldecott Medal runner-up three times,
Ms. Hyman took home the prize in 1983
for illustrating
Saint George and the Dragon,
a story retold by Margaret Hodges.
Ms. Hyman is one of the first white American illustrators
to incorporate black characters in her illustrations,
largely as a matter of principle,
because her daughter married a man from Cameroon.
Her grandchildren appear in several of her books.
I’m so glad I didn’t talk myself out of this treasure.

And now, we pause for a public service announcement:
Have you written your life stories yet?
Y’all know that I loudly, enthusiastically, ceaselessly
encourage everybody to pen their stories,
write a book about their life,
capture their stories for all posterity.
And yes, I mean you
and you
and you.
Such a gift to all of us, that.

I love staying home and getting things done,
but it always does me a world of good
to get out of the house
and see what’s happening in
the rest of the world.
Or at least in the neck of my woods.
It’s like a tonic
that doesn’t smell or taste bad.
And you know what?
There’s more!
But it’ll wait till tomorrow.

What Comes Between Starting and Finishing

January 7, 2016 / jeanne / 0 Comments

Zen1

I am trying to stay on task this year,
having no more than three cloths in the works
at any one time,
finishing one project
before starting another.

(Wish me luck.)

One project must be portable –
able to fit in a small bag
that will fit in my purse or tote
because we travel
– a lot –
Which is why it often takes so long
to cross the finish line.

Confetti1

I am using my machine on some projects,
(I couldn’t’ve finished the Christmas presents
– table runners for my son and his wife –
without the assistance of my sewing machine)
but always there is a bit of hand stitching.

IOOL4 034 copy

Iool4 34

Stitching In Our Own Language 4
is my night-time stitching project.
If I continue to stitch 2 drawings a night,
I will be finished in 10 days.

Tumbler2

It’s quite satisfying to lay out a plan
and stick to it
and quite satisfying to complete things.
It’s a feeling I want to experience
more often this year.