Planes, trains and automobiles

Went to a town near Bakewell today with The Mister. Model rail-road exhibition...of course it did have more than just trains (Thank you Jesus for your mercy on me!).

One thing I really liked was a model of a fun fair/carnival. It had lighted rides, even....the trailers/caravans the Roadies live in. Cracked me up. It was very bright and colourful as they should be and I liked it...different.

There was also a digital slot car set up. Quite a change from what my Uncle Ron has when I was growing up. He would have loved it, it monitored how much gas each car used and you have to go into the pit and re-fuel. You can change lanes with the control and pass your opponent. It brought tears to my eyes.

He was way too young to have died when he did. Fifty-two and full of muck from smoking two packs a day for probably 35 years. Wish he could have been there with me. He loved model trains too. The garage was full of slot cars, his bedroom full of model trains...Not sure what he did with them when he got married to Aunt Darla, and they started having kids....they'd be worth a fortune now. Priceless to me, just because he owned them. He was a very special guy...died shortly after birth. The nuns at the hospital got my grandmothers permission to baptise him and give him last rights. After my grandmother was informed, a sister went in to clean him and make him presentable for my grandmother to see. The still, blue infant she had left, was pink and kicking upon her return. I believe all the angels in heaven rejoiced as much as she did. Born with hydrocephlis, an arm broken in two places and weighing just over thirteen pounds...he was a big boy. The shunt drained the fluid from his brain, his arm healed but not perfectly due to the two breaks. This was a blessing in disguise, it kept him from being drafted and going to Viet Nam when he was seventeen. He quit school at that age and got a job in a factory. Working and giving his money to my grandmother to help with the bills, since Grandpa had hit the road.

Friday nights he always stopped and brought home a pizza. He ate all but two pieces, leaving them in the fridge for me, along with a bottle of Pepsi, he would take the top off and put it back on, tight enough for me to get it off in the morning to have with my pizza while I watched Saturday morning cartoons. After a car accident, he received a tidy sum of money (seemed enourmous at the time). He bought me a new bike! A Schwin Sting-ray, top of the line, gold metal flake, bananna seat and a sissy bar, to go with the butterfly handle bars. Who would want a better Uncle than that? I loved his three children as if they were my own. The life they had was hard, sometimes the best people make the dumbest choices and biggest mistakes, based on a spur of the moment decision. The effects, manifesting themselves for years to come. I've connected with his grandson, via Facebook. I hope we can continue to connect now and again. He looks so much like Ron. His father, Ron's son passed away two weeks before I moved to England. leaving another miracle...Andrew Jackson Lamoureaux. Weighing under two pounds, the family was told he wouldn't make it. Little Andy was running and playing at the funeral...A testament to the tenacity to live, to carry on and to the power of God to keep blessing for a reason. Who knows what that reason will be, only God of course, for now.

This is titled Planes, trains and automobiles....I've not mentioned planes, funny thing, is, whenever I fly I think if the plane should crash, I'll get to see Uncle Ron, Aunt Darla and John again.

quilted with love

I made a quilt for my grandson last year. Joseph is now 15, a straight A student and just a great kid. I'd like him even if he wasn't my own flesh and blood. OK, he's not only my flesh and blood, I think he's my heart. A wonderful guy. Smart, funny, sensitive. Loves his little sisters to bits. Their first words were...Joe. When he learned to read at five, he used to come home from school, and while his mom made them all a snack, he'd sit on the floor, put the baby on his lap and with his other sister next to him, he would read to them. Not because his mom wanted him to practice his reading, but because he loved reading and wanted his sisters to love it too.

Back to the quilt. I called the quilt El-Shaddai. Listening to Michael Card as I worked on it, the quilt grew of it's own accord. As I worked on it, I kept picturing a waring Angel, standing beside Joseph. The angel looked like a tribal warrior. This quilt I believe is his sheild. I think God has a special purpose for Joseph, as he does for all of us. I feel honoured that I'm a part of Joe's life and God's plan.

Joe wants to come to England and live with us for three months, going to school for the first half term of the school year. He'll be a year 11. Dave is apprehensive of it. Claiming Joe will be bullied, not fit in, etc. Dave works at the school system and is planning on retiring this year. He says he should be there to help Joe. Dave is I think clutching at straws, wanting to keep the status quo at home. Not have to share "Dave's world" with anyone. Dave wants to be the centre of attention at all times. When someone comes to visit...it's all about him. My thoughts and opinions are met with eye rolling or talked over entirely. I am both resentful and am angred by Dave's attitude about Joe visiting. Joe would want to go to school here if Dave was a plumber, his being there is a non-issue. That might be part of the problem. At anyrate. I'm digging my heels in.

I want Joe to have on last chance at being a kid. When he's at his mom's home, he tends to be the parent (four younger siblings), preparing breakfast or lunch. Admonishing the girls to clean up, or behave. At his dad's he's in school, working part time and his step mom works a lot so she expects Joe and his sisters to do their chores and cook their own meals. I want Joe to be self-sufficient, but I'd like him to know what it's like to have a bit of a break before the real world catches him in it's claws. I want to quilt his world with love for a few weeks. At 15, he's not going to have time for this old girl for long. Hot young babes with long legs will soon be his women of choice. Studying at University, working and making a life for himself are not too far away.

Another thing is this. My Dave has the chance to make a really good impression on Joe. He's never had a grandfather. My ex is just that an ex, ex-husband, ex-father and example of what a mind on drugs and drink can turn into. Dave loves to fish, he could take Joe fishing. Dave can build with wood like a champion...he could teach Joe some tricks of the trade. Dave knows about trains, not that Joe has an interest in them, but he might after spending time with Dave. Why is he so reticent over Joe's visiting? I'm going to have to dig my heels in. It's not going to be pretty (I need a pedicure).

Quilting to know you.

Well, I've not been on here lately. The NHS has kept me chained to a computer for the past week. Little trips up to the sewing grotto before work I'm about four blocks from having the centre finished on our Tracey's quilt.

This coming week, we will have our AGM meeting of our needlework group. I'm allegedly being voted in as the new President. Ya'll don't get too impressed, no one else would do it! I win by default.

I quite enjoy this group. Since moving to the UK, I've made friends at work...but that is pretty much all we have in common...work. We went out for drinks and dinner a few times, but there are one or two personalities there who are mini time-bombs. We never know when they will explode and who will be at the receiving end. Not so with my quilting group. Lovely ladies, ranging in age from 40ish to 80ish! One lady brings her daughter sometimes, so she's a cute little teenager to add to the excitement. She likes beading and I've got a new project that might be just up her street. Tessa a friend from popularpatchwork.com sent me the directions and supplies to make one necklace from papermache' beads, plastic beads and a 2.5 inch strip of fabric. This is what we do...we help each other.

Finally I got around to what I started this blog about. As a quilter, I've not noticed the petty competition amongst our group that I've found so common in other situations. We just help each other, encourage each other and learn from each other. We get to know each other, and our friendships grow stronger with each stitch we make. When one lady's husband passed away, we pulled together to help her through. When another lady joined us, depressed over losing her spouse, her health and her "future"...we showed her there was more than just day time telly. It keeps our minds active, learning new techniques and skills, teaching each other, and expanding our knowledge of the craft. Mostly though, I enjoy the friendship of these lovely ladies I've met from around the world. Australia, to South Africa, Turkey to the Caribbean, California to Cumbria! We have a world wide quilting bee. So, Bee good.

Equal Oppourtunity

Watching a show on Folk Music on BBC four tonight. Seeing the iconic figures of my youth and young adulthood. Looking back on the history and path sometimes self chosen, sometimes chosen for us by the twists and turns of the world we grew up in. Must be getting old, I'm thinking of how good those days were music wise, and thinking how kids now don't understand the struggles, battles and hardships of those days. I look at what is considered iconic now...Girls Aloud? Sugar Babes? Please! I walked miles, knocked on doors and brow-beat politicians to get them to pass the Equal Rights amendment, in the US. Didn't pass back in the 70's. Looking at what these young ladies are doing for fame and fortune, I doubt they even know what it means. I resent the fact they call these groups "BANDS". A band plays musical instruments...do they? NO! They strut their stuff, beautiful stuff I will agree. However, what happens when age and life takes it's toll? Yes, they have the right to flaunt as much skin as they want...but the point is a woman's talent shouldn't be judged by how short her skirt, or how big her chest is. A woman's value should be judged by who she is. Not how she looks. Working for the same pay as the guy at the next desk, doing the same job, not demoted if you go home for a few weeks to give birth and get your child settled.
I'm off on another tangent, sorry. Germaine Greer, a woman I hold in such high esteem views Quilting as a waste of a woman's time. I find this appalling. She says textiles deteriorate and so are not of value. If historically men were the quilters, would she say the same thing? I think not. I believe Equal Oppourtunity means, what ever we choose to do has value. Whether it be a stay at home mom, or a working mom. A CEO or a Scout Leader. A writer or a quilter. They are both creative, one might warm your soul to read it, the other might warm your body as you read the book!

How many UFO (un-finished objects) can I work on at one time? I'm testing my limits here. 1.) I have a quilt for my step-daughter on the design wall and strips for it on hangers dangling down from the book shelf running half way around the room. 2.) I have a quilt at work for people to sign for a sick co-worker. 3.) There is a 1000 pyramid quilt half put together and the back ground fabric waiting to be cut hanging on the back of my chair. 4.) a baby quilt (one of six I have to make...wish people would stop doing "it" for a while, till I can catch up) on the book shelf, needs sandwiching and quilting. 5.) my batik fan quilt...not enough done on it to count as really started since I tossed the centre section away after I screwed it up two nights ago.

Hoping this weekend, people will leave me alone to work. I'm just going to tell Dave I'm working and if company come by..they can come up stairs to visit. Or he can play host. Putting my foot down!!!!! on the sewing machine peddle and going to get to it.

If anyone needs me...I'll be in the quilting cavern, the grotto of my creativity. It needs to be in a basement I suppose to be a cavern...oh well....truth, I'll be in the box room a tiny little room at the top of the stairs, struggling to keep it neat enough to work in as I finish at least one project this weekend.

Work has asked me to put in more hours as we are short-handed. I was hired for 29.5 hours. I put in two extra on a Tuesday night. I work one Saturday and one Sunday a month and for the last two weeks I've worked extra hours on Wednesday. I've been told I won't get paid over time for the extra week day hours untill they reach 37. Allison works 35 hours per week, she get's overtime after that....hmmmmm.....all animals are equal, but some are more equal than other?
Not sure if I can physically do more hours. I get too tired. Will have to wait and see.
Off to the grotto for an hour of sewing pre-work day.
Bliss....

Quilting in a Winter Wonderland
I'm sitting at the pc, but heading up to the sewing grotto in a few minutes. Looking out the window I'm remembering a song by John Denver...
"It's cold, and it's getting colder.
It's grey and white and winter all around.
And oh I must be getting older, 'cause all this snow
Is trying to get me down".

I think you all know what I'm talking about. We don't get much snow here in England. I used to get it more often in North Carolina. It's lovely to watch from inside, but...Winter's are long here. It seems they last from Nov to August with all the rain there has been the last few years. Hoping it will be a good summer. I need the sun on my face and on my back as I work in the garden. I need to see the little shoots of new flowers and veg as they poke up toward the sun. I need to poke up toward The Son myself. Like the plants, I've needed this darkness and this cold to make my spirit long for the sun, The Son and his blessings. OH my I've gone of on a spiritual tangent again. This has stopped being a quilting moment and turned into another gripe about the dark night of the soul...ooops!

So, I'm hoping the crummy weather will keep people at home and I will be able to get some quilting done this weekend. I know I'm working on Sunday, but it's only three hours....I wanna quilt!!!!! I've got too many projects to sit on my back side. Guess I should get off this pc!
Bye for now.

Quilted thoughts
My Aunt made me a quilt for my fiftieth birthday. Bright colours filled the blocks with images and patterns reminiscent of days past. Days when none of us were grey and the wrinkles we wore were from a life too busy to iron, rather than the ones pressed into our flesh by living.She had resisted joining the neighbourhood-quilting group when she moved to her new house. Sitting around quilting is for “Old People” she said. Finally, defeated by loneliness and boredom, she relented and gave it a try. Like a crack head on the corner, urban or otherwise, she was hooked! No fabric store is safe from her search to add to her fabric stash, feeding her need.Why am I writing this? Is it an expose’ on the latest secret lives of middle aged women? Perhaps, but it’s also a “True Confession”, like any junkie, she introduced me to her drug of choice. “Come on, give it a try…all the cool old women are doing it, even the not so old women are doing it…you don’t want to feel left out…. Do you?” Now I too have a textile monkey on my back.Not so different from my hippie days, I go ten miles to another village to get “The Good Stuff”. I’m no longer happy with the common, lesser quality of the cloth found at the market stalls. Similar to my days of driving through the mountains between San Jose and Santa Cruz when the local home grown just didn’t give the buzz it used to. I want the Acapulco Gold of fabrics, I want the Maui Wowee, Moda fabrics, Red hairs of Rowan weavers, and of course, the Thai sticks of Thimbleberries cloth. When in my youth I used to watch “Reefer Madness” and howl with laughter, I now watch “An American Quilt” and laugh at the mistakes the “quilters” perform pretending to know the craft.Sitting in front of my machine this morning, I began wondering why this particular craft, hobby or art, is so addictive. I’ve pondered my own life and reaction to this journey known as quilting.Perhaps there is a genetic pull, past generations of women speaking through our DNA, “Keep your family warm, you don’t know what tomorrow may bring, give them something to remember you by.”Maybe it’s a way to fill our days. With all the modern appliances we have Washday is more like wash hour, and then what? Our husbands are asleep in front of the TV, or out playing golf. We can cut fabric, sew, read quilting magazines and form our plans of attack, I mean our plans of a quilt!Another thought crossed my mind. Quilting is not just being creative, quilting, is controlled creation. If we make a mistake, the stitches go wrong, the colours clash, or we just wish we had done it differently – we can. The seam-ripper is near by. More fabric can be purchased, cut and sewn.We cannot re-make our spouses, not for lack of trying and a divorce or two along the way. Our children cannot go back to infancy for another jab at rearing them. Changing the pattern of their lives is in their hands. Lets hope we’ve oiled their machines well, and given them enough thread! However, we can re-do our quilts, our new babies.Quilting is also an extension of ourselves and a reflection of how we feel about the person we make the quilt for. It’s our love wrapping around them, our acknowledgement of who they are, what they have done and where they have been. It’s our dreams for them, beauty, tranquillity, harmony, warm nights and comfort.So perhaps that is the real reason we quilt, become addicted to it and keep making things for people we care about. We want them to know they are appreciated, noticed in the hectic world we live in, and that we have taken time to make something special just for them.In the Bible, King David wrote a Psalm (a song) to God saying,Psalm 139:5 You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.When God hems us in, he keeps us from unravelling, from falling out and being trampled on in this busy world. When we make these quilts, we are doing the same thing for those we make these quilts for. We are putting this special thought for them together, and keeping it from unravelling. The quilt becoming an analogy for them, who and what they are to us.On the other hand, it could be a way to keep us from spending all our time sitting in front of the refrigerator!

Hello!

Hello to my friends, fans and fellow quilters.
Starting on a blog not for the first time, but hoping it will keep me busy (as if I don't have enough to keep me busy!)
This is all for now. I've got a long work day ahead of me.