I dreamed a journey through my body
I dreamed a trip inside my mind
I dreamed I packed an empty suitcase
and left my worries all behind.
on crossing bridges
This is an unstitched work a friend is commissioning from me as a gift to her parents. I just finished the layout and I’m about to begin sewing. I am considering words to stitch into the sky, thoughts on crossing bridges together, making changes and weathering transitions together. Myself, I am typically ungraceful in the midst of profound change, but when I look back across the expanding vista of my marriage and personal life, the bridges are the shiny landmarks, the remarkable memories.
put your hands in the air
for all the commuters out there. I am finished with week 4 of my 7 week teaching stint. I honestly like sewing with middle schoolers. They remind me of pirates, crass, giddy, kind of ungrounded, odiferous, need I continue? What I don’t enjoy is the commute to Junction City and Oakridge. Commuters are a toughened and resilient bunch. Just four weeks of this daily commute and my hands vibrate for stretches, my back aches, my butt is re-shaped and possibly larger, I wake with nightmares of Mac trucks, I’m yelling insults at people I pass in hallways.... How do you commuter’s do it? I need some insights to get through the next 3 weeks.
color
I am enormously grateful for my functioning rods and cones, for my decent vision and this color saturated world we get to live in. What a pleasure it is to look, to notice the bright red berries on the evergreen shrub outside my window, the pale yellow cottonwoods, the vivid white of a clean sheet, the delicate robin egg blue of toothpaste on my toothbrush, the metallic black of a passing car.
I try not to be a hater...
but inevitably she calls just as I’ve plugged in my iron, tuned into the latest podcast of This American Life, and picked up my sharpest scissors for a serious work session. Rinnnggg, Rinnng, “Hello?” I say. “Hi, this is Rachel at card holder services.” (you can’t interupt at this point, she’s a recording) “there is no problem with your current credit card.” That’s about as far as it goes before I hang up on her. But she’s already broken the spell and I have to begin again like my dog situating herself on her pillow, turning, pushing, turning again before I can resume working. That rant ranted, I am thinking of making commemorative bowls or t-shirts that say I Hate Rachel at Card Holder Services. Place your orders now.
long weekend
After thursday’s feasting, I persuaded my family to make the trek up to Portland for the opening of “Little Things” at Guardino Gallery. We spent the day together enjoying the city, then Josh and the kids headed to a movie theatre while I went to work. The Gallery was packed all evening despite the downpour outside. I talked to an endless flow of people, none of which had ever heard of me. I definately felt the small town girl amongst city slickers, and realized the work I have ahead of me, carving out a name for myself beyond Eugene. Daunting and Invigorating!
St. Pauli Girl
Last week I had the pleasure of seeing one of my food heros, Sandor Ellix Katz, speak about fermentation at the UO. That lecture, and the odd little DNA like stitched wool pieces I’ve been playing around with, got me wondering about fermented foods under the microscope. I found lots of beautiful images online, like this photo of St. Pauli Girl beer. Can’t you see this in fabric?