Thursday, May 27, 2010
Missouri in a covered wagon as a baby. Maybe I could have somehow told in fabric the story of how he always gave Jamie and me a quarter apiece to go across the street to the "Toot~N~Tot'em" to buy a bag of candy whenever we visited and how we would agonize over how to spend our twenty-five cents. We always knew that a trip to Amarillo to see Granny and PaPa had the potential of ending up at Thompson park where he would push us on the swings or spin us on the Merry-go-Round. If it was a really lucky trip we would find ourselves at Wonderland Park where PaPa would help us find bits of litter to "feed" to the over sized vacuum made to look like a hungry pig in a giant mushroom house who was so ravenous that he would quite literally suck the garbage right out of your hand! Any of those things would call PaPa to my mind, so I was spoiled for choice when it came time to pick a block for PaPa.
What I did choose is a block called Carpenters Square because PaPa was also a carpenter. When we moved to Cannon AFB as small children we heard how PaPa had worked as a carpenter to help build the base. It was something we were very proud of, and always made sure our friends and neighbors knew. Whereever we went on Cannon we always wondered, had our PaPa built this place too? Maybe... it was possible. So even though PaPa did lots of things, its as a carpenter that I will remember him in this quilt. I think remembering him as a carpenter is a good choice maybe because we kept his big heavy hammer after he was gone. We had more than one hammer in the house, but whenever somebody asked for "The Hammer" we all knew they meant PaPa's hammer. Its still there, more than thirty years later and its still the hammer we all think of whenever we think of hammers at all.
Monday, May 24, 2010
This was a Christmas present from Steve last year. Its a quilt book that walks you through the process of creating a sampler quilt wherein the blocks chosen represent something meaningful from your life. I liked the concept very much and was glad that it made it off my wish list and under the tree. Unfortunately I had other outstanding projects that I needed to get to before I dared start another. Finally the time has come to begin work on my own diary quilt.
At first I thought telling my story through this quilt would involve blocks that spoke about my life and interests but I soon found out the things that are the most meaningful to me are not the day to day components that make up my life in particular but the big elements that make up my life in general. That is to say, my family tree. I have been doing a lot of fruitful family research in recent years and have learned a great deal of my family history. I have pieced together a puzzle that I thought I would never solve and I love the picture it shows. My family is diverse and interesting, tragic and triumphant and has a long long history in America, all the way to the very beginning. But its not the early ancestors I focus on in this quilt, they do get a nod, and I will write about them later, but the bulk of the story in this quilt belongs to my grandparents, my parents, my sister, my husband, my son, and me. I hope it will prove to be a much loved and long lived family legacy, and if ever there should come another one like myself in my family line, I hope this quilt will help them piece together their own family puzzle.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
A while back I heard mention of a news blog by Tina Brown titled "The Daily Beast" I wondered at the name, thinking it was such an odd and funny name for a news blog . Now I have a theory...Fast Forward a month or two to the time I started thinking of having a blog of my own. I was full of ideas and eager to start. I would post something daily and it would be a great way to showcase whatever creative endeavor I was in the throes of at a given time. A safe bet I reckoned because I am always in the throes of something! But the daily posts began to dwindle to two or three a week, and then even fewer, now if I can manage a new post twice a week its been a good run. (sad when you consider how new my blog is) The problem is with the pictures really. I have not wanted to fool with uploading pictures. Now that Steve has his new camera he uploads the new shots to his computer and that introduces a whole new layer of technology I have to wade through to get the pictures I want for my blog, and thus far, I have been unwilling to do it. So the eagerness to post new posts has started to fade and I remembered the news blog, and thought I bet she calls it the Daily Beast because it lurks there in background with its threatening presence until she fulfills her daily duty to it; updates and posts etc...Of course she is Tina Brown and I know she has minions to do her bidding, still the beast lurks no matter who you are!
But there is new hope for fending off my somewhat daily beast. It comes in the form of the next quilt I am undertaking. Its blocks will be the inspiration for my posts for the foreseeable future, but fear not gentle reader, it will not be as much about quilts as you might think. I will interject the odd unrelated post as the whim occurs, and hopefully there will be plenty of good pictures. I have commandeered the old camera and it will be mine to do with as I will. Its not a bad camera either the picture of Mungo up there was taken with it at the Columbia Zoo not two months ago!
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Happy Birthday Omar! Who is Omar some of you may be wondering, is he another one of my mysterious boyfriends like Killa or Raoul? Not hardly. Omar is my Mom. Back when she first became a grandmother we had a discussion about what she ought to be called. Granny was taken by her Mom, and we never could get on board with Meemaw, Mamaw and the like...I don't know. Something about Meemaw and it's variants just rubbed us the wrong way. Grandma was taken by Grandma Wachter So since we were living in the Netherlands when the blessed even took place we looked to our Dutch/ English dictionary for some inspiration. That's were we found Oma, Dutch for Grandma. It was perfect, Mom was now an Oma. Zach happily called her that for years until he said it in a classroom in Nebraska and was laughed at for making up his own words. They never would believe him that it was a real word, but then this is the same school that employed a teacher(one of Zach's favorites) who told him there was no such thing as a duty free shop in an airport...Those folks in Nebraska need to get out a little more, dontcha think?
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
OK, Now its starting to get weird,but you really cannot appreciate the full twilight zoniness of this whole episode until I fill you in on the rest of what has happened since Steve failed to ask permission for the second photo of Robert the Doll. On our return from Florida the first time, you know the one without the back seat to our van...we stopped at a Cracker Barrel for lunch and a server dropped a glass near our table and my ankle was cut by a flying shard of glass. We half hoped this would entitle us to free desert or a discount perhaps, but no, it only garnered us a complimentary band aid. Then on to the house where I discovered the rather expensive shirt I bought in Key West as a souvenir was a size too big. I thought " no worries" I'll slap some darts in there and it will fit like a glove, and it would have too, except I snipped a hole in it as I was trimming the threads...now its destined to be in quilt one day. All of that is unfortunate but is it the product of a curse? I don't know. What I do know is that on the second return trip Steve was suddenly and mysteriously taken ill. He went to bed more or less healthy and woke up too sick to drive. So I drove us the 10 hours home and he sat with a barf bucket in his lap and a look of pure misery on his face. For those inclined to believe in such things, what I have told is more than enough to convince them that we are paying the price for that unauthorized photo, but for those who are more skeptical, I have only this to add. This morning when I pulled up my blog to add this post I noticed that one picture was missing from my blog. All the other pictures were there, but the picture Steve took of Robert the Doll was missing and in its place was nothing more than that annoying red X that sometimes shows up where a picture is supposed to be. I added the picture back, lets see if it stays this time.
Friday, May 7, 2010
I am not one to believe in curses, I think if there is any real power in a curse its the power of suggestion and nothing more. Having said that, I would like to suggest that we have been victims of the curse of Robert the doll. In Key West there is a doll on display in a museum that had at one time belonged to a resident. It's believed that the doll bears a curse that now effects all who photograph the doll without first asking permission. As skeptical of these things as I am, I look like a true believer when compared to my husband who is the most skeptical person I know. poo-pooing the curse, Steve was loath to ask the doll permission before snapping its picture. Still, he played along and did ask the first time he took a picture, but I was listening when he spoke to the doll a second time. He did not ask permission for the picture above, he only informed Robert that he was taking it. Woe be unto him to fails to ask permission....The next day Steve loaded our van full of our suitcases for our 10 hour drive from Miami to Columbia. He might have noticed that there was ample room for our things back there, more room than usual. We had taken the back bench seat out of the van to make room for all the suitcases, and beach gear when we were heading to Key West. He completely forgot to put it back in the van for our trip home and we did not notice it missing until we pulled into our garage in Columbia. So in about an hour we are climbing back in the van and returning to Miami to collect the rest of it. Is it a curse, or just an ever more common senior moment? I have to ask is there really a difference?
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
So imagine my surprise when Steve asked me if I had forgot something the night before....Now let me let this sink in for a minute. When Steve discovered Mr. Humphries at the bottom of a red plastic bin in the bottom of the downstairs coat closet the next morning his thought process was such that he assumed I shut up Mr. Humphries in the tub in the closet by mistake and had completely forgot to put her back in her cage after our nightly play session....Did that sink in? He thought I absent mindedly locked my pet hamster in a closet, rather than her cage....He did not even consider that Mr. Humphries had made an escape from said cage. It's moments like that when I call him "Son of Myrtle" because his Mother Myrtle's brain often seemed to work in a similar fashion. But I digress... I did put Mr. Humphries back in her cage with a fresh piece of strawberry and my best wishes for a good night and then I headed off to bed. Sometime in the night she managed to pop open one of the three doors to her Jack 72 Hamster resort and she lit out. She must have managed to descend the thirteen stairs to the kitchen, ran all the way across the linoleum to the living room, where she skirted the perimeter until happening on the closet door which clears the carpet on the bottom by a good inch and half. She shimmied under the door and must have climbed an umbrella to reach the top of the red plastic bin before she dropped in to see what she could see and that was it...She was trapped. She spent who knows how many hours in the bin until Steve heard her the next day and wondered what on Earth I was thinking locking her in the closest all night long...This is my life...shared with an ungrateful hamster and a man who's' first thought at finding the hamster in the closet is that I put it there....You just can't make this stuff up.