I'm stitching old remnants of bias tapes onto a linen runner. ^
It's thick work, and I'm grateful for Sarah's recent gift of finger protection.
I don't have any plans for the piece––it's just more shades of white on white––but it looks like it might be another piece of cloth armor. (I'd ended up not liking the metal lath armor I'd started---it was too hard and sharp.)
This afternoon bink, Maura, and Laura are coming over to watch soccer, but this morning I am sewing alone at the coffee shop near where I'm house sitting.
I'm adapting, consciously, to being on my own again lately.
It may be a healthy independence on her part, but I miss her.
A lot of things have ended lately––work, friendship––and my heart is a little sore, and I feel a little lost. Researching garbage is not helping, it's so awful, and I keep wondering if I should keep going. (I haven't signed a contract yet, so I could drop it...)
The other week I came across this line a blogger wrote after a friend and mentor died:
"I will shift this sadness into my courage."
I like that a lot.
______________________
Tales from the Thrift
Anyway, amid the sads, good things have been evolving too. Happy things keep happening at the Thrift Store, for instance.
The other day, a wife and husband came into the store, looking like Patti Smith + Wally Shawn (crane + bunny), asking if we had a rubber rug.
We didn't, but thrift customers are like library patrons:
sometimes you need to decipher what they really need, so I asked them what they wanted it for.
To line their rats' run, the wife told me.
"If they run on wire," she said, "it hurts their feet, and they develop something called bumblefoot."
"Can you wait a minute?" I said, "I'll go check the donations downstairs."
I came back with a yoga mat. "Will this work?"
It would! They were so happy, and so was I:
it was a small but noble deed, saving little animals from sore feet.
"I will shift this sadness into my courage."
ReplyDeleteI like that, as well. It's a good idea.
At some point in our lives, I'm beginning to realize, we have to decide to let go of things that hurt, or make us feel bad - like writing about garbage. That won't be the only book deal to come your way, plus you always have the option of writing (and illustrating) about things that make you feel good.
I always enjoy your posts about your Thrift Store adventures. How did they come into being? Did they evolve from church rumble sales, or maybe from rag-pickers' stalls in early markets? How far back in history do they go and where was the first one? Are they always fund raisers for charities or are some retail stores?
Write what you know, my late friend Ida used to say in our writers' group. What you know and what you love/enjoy.
Sounds like your fledgling has developed strong wings and is off exploring her world. You offered significant support in order for that to happen. Good for you. And good for Marz.
Hey, Crow:
ReplyDeleteI actually thought of YOU when I wrote out that quote, too---because of *your* courage (and sadnesses), especially just lately.
THANKS from the bottom of my sore heart for the encouragement/permission (!) to NOT write about garbage.
That really helps me.
Alas, the publisher just put out a book on Thrift Stores, but, hey--there are other publishers (or, here!).
At any rate---you are right to pick up on the fact that I enjoy telling about my adventures in thrift: thank you for seeing me.
Marz has done good work, and, I trust, so have I. It's just... sad. I bet you know what I mean.
Always useful, to dig into what needs doing. Staying open to making do.
ReplyDeleteTrashing the garbage project, say it ain't so! (sarcasm with a pun chaser.)
"Staying open to making do."
ReplyDeleteThanks for that, Zhoen.
I'm still deciding about the book... Need to let the publisher know this week though.
As I have some catching up to do and am digesting the idea of Marz as, well, not your roomie/dear friend just say this: good work on offering the yoga mat to protect rat footsies. Good karma, indeed.
ReplyDeleteI have bumblefoot.
ReplyDeleteIn my heart.