I am in the studio… it is about 10:30 and hot. Way too hot to stand over a kettle… but stand over the kettle I did.

This helped a lot (thank you ginga!)

Excuse the crappy cell phone pic… the camera is at home.

So.. I am a little tired and very hot… I feel a philosophical post coming on. Something about the music and the vibe in my studio clears my head.

Stitch by stitch I am crawling towards this life as a fiber artist. I am really trying to find a balance in my life. I have the real job that fades in and out of my periphery.. my family and this dyeing life. I knit a lot, but not as much as I’d like to. I dye a lot, but not as much as I’d like to. I work a hell of a lot.. much more than I ever anticipated. I feel that my brain is constantly thinking about yarn, color, accounts, orders, and deadlines.

(so much to say… so much to say… so much to say… )

I am trying to do a lot of things… and do them all well. I am hoping that parts of my life will wait for me to be ready for them… but you never can tell. My kid is sprouting up like a weed and I hope he feels like he has my attention. Because… as much as I obsess about the yarn… I do it double time about him. My baby has grown into a little boy that can recognize Orioles players and clearly state that he wants to shred it on the ramp with “da big boys” and has a “bad elbow wike Adam Wowen” of the Orioles. The other day in the car he told me that they were both out for the season.

This life feels like it is on fast forward all the time. The shifter is stuck in overdrive. I am hoping that I can slow down at some point… but that does not look like it is a reality for the next year.

I know.. call the waaaambulance… I really am very grateful that things are taking off. I just wish there was a clearer deliniation between work/dyeing/home. The crazy thing is… I bet  I would be miserable if it was easy.

Looks like it is storming outside… I am hoping that the heat will  give way to a more suitable temp. I would take the high 80’s over 90’s any day..Baltimore gets sticky and agitated over the heat…. it filters into every part of your existance.

Nite folks… hope it is cool where you are!

(That I would get tired if the RENT cast recording….not yet.)

It is 11:45 pm and quiet here in my studio. Quiet is good. I really try to maximize on the quiet. I rarely (and if you knew me in person) am quiet.
I am starting to think more deeply about direction and purpose. The very ideas that guide us to actualizing dreams. And, how in a life chock full of (lovingly planned) responsibility, how do dreams actualize themselves?

(a little mantra for me to hang around my neck)

There are times that my D will start talking about things. Travel plans, a life abroad, things that seem unreachable. And I will nay-say it out of chatter, or the need to say something in response. And, in that moment, (when he lovingly calls me a “dream squasher”) I realize that I have been programmed to believe that dreams are just that. Dreams. Nothing that will reach actualization in my lifetime.

I think of what life would be life if my cowboy never dreamed. Literally,while sleeping. or figuratively while playing or aspiring to greatness. That would be a terrible reality for a child growing into a man.

I am sending my youngest brother off to college with well wishes and support for his big plans in politics (again, Bill… I promise I am not your Roger Clinton), and I am hopeful for his dreams. No squashing coming from here.
I think a lot about my artistic pursuits. About my aspirations to have the business grow. About my commitment to supporting the local yarn shops out there that have a rough time competing with the internet shops. It all is swimming in my brain… and I think that I am ok with that. I think I am going to let things resonate for awhile.
Remember the dream squasher thing? I am fighting that right now. I am thinking that comes from this sense of needing a firm plan set in stone and bypassing the scenic route. I am down with the scenery, friends. I am one with the uncertainty.

Along with dreams come change. Change is scary. But, ultimately, good. Gandhi said: “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” I am reaching towards actualization. Step by step… moment by moment of blissful silence.

(Happy Eye Candy Friday!

Here are some shots in the pots!)

Graduations… end of the school year… all that stuff gets me thinking about the folks that I have lost touch with. The ones that meant something to you at critical times, happy times… whatever.

I am closing in on 16 years ( oh shit!) after my high school graduation. Before I know it… 20 years will have crept up and bit me in the ass.It is a natural time for introspection. For re-evaluation.
I have been lucky enough to have had some friends from my past reach out and make contact as of late. I am so happy to hear from all of them. They are grown ups now (I tend to fake that one),they have wives and husbands, children and houses, big moves and big changes. I have heard of the sadness of friends who have died unexpectedly. I have heard of the joys of babies, high school sweethearts who found each other again and married, and folks following their dreams.

Then I find myself thinking about how difficult those years were for all of us (and the vacuum of my memory shatters open) and how socially awkward we all were. And, with each person I correspond with, I see that we were all in the haze of adolescence. We all wanted to fit in and be cool. I used to feel this pit and anxiety about that period of my life. And now I just don’t care. Cool is not the end all and everything (although I remember when I was cool… *sigh*)

Life for me dramatically changed when I turned 30. I felt (and still do) feel fine about walking around in my skin. I just settled into being me.The person who is fiesty, yet kind. The one who doesn’t angrily scream about injustice, who tries to walk a path against it. Don’t get me wrong… I am an ass pretty regularly and still can get my IRISH up (aka I have a slight temper at times). I can cuss like the best of them and make a sailor blush. But, all in all, I try to leave this world slightly better than how I find it.

I am so happy to have all of these connections. Old friends and new, soul-mates (that would be my D), an amazingly beautiful son who I really, truly feel is the greatest blessing I will ever have. All of these connections are so vital to who I have been,and who I still hope to become. I am learning, very slowly, at the end of the day life is all about staying connected. And for all of you who help me do that, I thank you. From the bottom of my heart.

My youngest brother, Bill, is graduating from high school. He recently turned 18.. and now is a man.

And as he graduates, I think of the rapid passage of time. I can sometimes sneak a peek of the wide-eyed 7 year old that wrote the essay on how I was is favorite person. And the kid who only knows how to draw a baseball diamond and players. I see my brother in my son’s face. They share the same giggle. They have the same need to run and play.
We, Bill and I, would sing and dance around our little house in Danbury to the song “These Are Days” by 10,000 Maniacs. I was 19 and full of angst. He was 3 and full of wonder.
“These are the days
These are days you’ll remember
Never before and never since, I promise
Will the whole world be warm as this
And as you feel it,
You’ll know it’s true
That you are blessed and lucky
It’s true that you
Are touched by something
That will grow and bloom in you

These are days that you’ll remember
When May is rushing over you
With desire to be part of the miracles
You see in every hour
You’ll know it’s true
That you are blessed and lucky
It’s true that you are touched
By something that will grow and bloom in you

These are days
These are the days you might fill
With laughter until you break
These days you might feel
A shaft of light
Make its way across your face
And when you do
Then you’ll know how it was meant to be
See the signs and know their meaning
It’s true
Then you’ll know how it was meant to be
Hear the signs and know they’re speaking
To you, to you”

The tears run down my face as I think of how proud I am of the kind of man he grew up to be. (And how scary that Natalie Merchant is tied up in some of my sweetest memories)

And I think of how proud my father would be of him. And just how very much I still miss my dad. And how much my brother must miss him too. And my mom… and my sister…

I figured out that there will always we this huge black hole where my dad is concerned. And that I can not run from it… I just try to honor it. And know that we all feel bittersweet… and will forever.

I am so lucky to have you, Bill. You are everything that a sister could hope for. I promise, when you are some big-time politician, I will not be your Roger Clinton. I also promise that I will always be in your corner. Forever.
And, Dad, I will hug him extra tight for you.

And that, in a nutshell, is why I am listening to the “Essential Bruce Springsteen”.

Little known fact about Mama… I LOVE Bruce Springsteen. I know… there are others who love him more and better than I ever could.

But, alas, I love him.

I am from New Jersey. Like, really from New Jersey. I can use the “F-bomb” as an adjective, verb, and even a noun. I know what exit I live off of and what exit all of my family (that still reside there) live off of. I love bagels. I love pizza. I do believe it is not a joke that it is called the “Garden State” (state tree… Dogwood). I know every entrance in to the city and call it “Manhattan” (not New York. New York has 5 boroughs… not one.)
Bruce is our hometown hero. We know the in Asbury Park that he sings about. We find home and familiarity in the simple lines of a harmonica and a solo piano crooning through the speakers.

We all knew we were “Jersey Girls”. We love the boardwalk (Seaside, Point Pleasant, and Wildwood). We know that we are fast and sometimes blunt.

But, the thing is, there is no guessing where we stand. United on E Street. At the end of Thunder Road…..

I love Bruce because it reminds me of some very important guys in my life.

My dad. A Chevy Chevette. Trying to throw dimes (YES DIMES!) in the toll baskets on the Parkway out of the passenger side window, over the roof, hook-shot fashion. On the way to the beach… Island Beach State park… eating whole cherries and singing.

It reminds me to be happy, feel young, and live it up. My dad was always so happy hearing Bruce.

Bruce also reminds me of G-Tiddy, my big brother. The one I adored and annoyed my entire childhood. I remember the year we got our Bruce cassette box sets. I remember wanting to find connection to him through music. (I also remember, painfully, that I was too young to see the Born in the USA Tour in ‘85… he could because he was older. I was heartbroken.) I know most of my music because of him and my dad.

I think of them both… and where I come from. And what home and family is. There are times that it feels hard. I feel stressed. I am over committed (or should be committed!). I am ambitious…. but.. tonight… as I dye far to many skeins of yarn to count… I am from New Jersey, dammit.

Play my damn anthem. Because tonight my friends… this baby is Born to Run!

I have some amazingly talented friends. Among them is my friend Bubsy who painted this:

Yes. That is a 23 year-old Mama. It was my first year in Baltimore. I was restless and filled with the angst that a 23 year-old has when they want to do great things and have no idea as to how to do them.

I had went to art school already. I had lived (briefly) in Santa Fe. I had moved so many times looking for “it” that finally I threw a virtual dart at a map and had wound up in Baltimore. (If I had not thrown the virtual dart and made that decision I would have ended up in Oakland by way of the job offer I got the very next day.)

I had made up my mind. The first AmeriCorps program that accepted me would get me. By God I am grateful that it was Baltimore.

I found some direction and found my network. I adopted Baltimore as my home. I switched my alliances to the local sports teams (much to the chagrin of my dad and family). I learned to pick a blue crab.

I was still trying to find my way artistically. I can draw. I am not a great painter, but I do get color. Color is my strong suit. I can weld and sculpt from almost any material I find… but it was not coming together. I hung out with my artist friends. I lived in Gertrude Stein’s old house with an activist, a filmmaker, and a dancer (all women.. veddy cool.) We all struggled in that way the the 20 something year-olds do. We all were trying to find “it”. The elusive soul-filling medium that would make us great.

I Was a barista. I met my D. I fell in love, grew up a little, traveled more extensively, and got married. I worked as a special educator. All the while keeping my eye out for that thing.

I had my cowboy. The nature of what artist materials I could have in my home changed dramatically. The sewing machine, pins, paints, etc. were replaced by big primary plastic exer-saucers and play yards. I needed the portable project.

I learned to knit for the second time with my girl G. She has been a constant source of creativity and friendship for 10 years. I kept knitting. I learned about “good yarn” vs. Red Heart. I kept knitting. I knit my first socks and was hooked. I wanted to know everything about fiber. My soul was filling with creative juices. I felt that I found “it”.

I taught myself to dye yarn and found myself in this place. The place of being an indie artist that produces little watercolors for the feet. Strange that dye would become my medium.

I am in this great place because of all of you. I have an actual studio space to work in because of you. I feel that my actual and virtual “village” is such an amazing network of creative human beings. Human in the best sense of being human. We care. We share our joys and our sorrows. We support one another and go from being “imaginary” friends to real friends via the power of the internet and the gatherings at the fiber festivals.

I thought it would be fitting for my final post in 2006 to be one of gratitude. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being there. I would never have actualized my dreams as an artist without each and every one of you. Thank you.

Here’s to hoping that peace finds us all in 2007. Health and happiness to us all.

Namaste’.

An invisible red thread connects those destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance. The thread my stretch or tangle, but never break. ~Ancient Chinese Proverb

I think sometimes about connections. And, honestly, how we all get by in this lifetime. I will be waiting on line somewhere like the MVA, or the bank, or the big box superstore, and I will take stock of what I am doing and who is around. And, then, that precise moment, I think about spending my time where and when it counts. I feel like this ride goes by so very fast, friends…. and a moment wasted is a moment lost.
You see… in the merriment of the cowboy’s upcoming birthday fiesta… there is a tinge of sadness. I wish, beyond any wish I have ever wished, that my dad could be there to see his first and only grandchild. He got to see him when he was less than 3 months old…. and sadly passed away as a result of a car accident.

He was a great guy, not without faults, but so human. So kind. He mellowed with age…. he settled into his life. He had regrets.. but tried to be the best guy that he could be. He called me almost everyday….. and wanted to know how “my boy” was. I miss those calls more than anything….
So…. I am hoping that red thread between my boy and his Grandpa Tiger never breaks…

I love you dad.

well… maybe I should say got the monkey off my back. ( I can not resist any Peter Gabriel song references. I scored some concert tickets to see him when I was VERY preggers with the cowboy and rubbed my big buddah belly to make a doorman feel sorry for me and give me two tickets!)
I FINISHED…meaning knitting, weaving in ends, and crocheting (blech! I would rather die in a ring of fire (a la soapturtle) than do that again. No offense to all you hookers out there!) the edges of D.’s 2 year long blanket!!!! My longest UFO is now an FO. Woot!

This blanket ( that is to have no photos!) was the first thing that I tried to knit for D when I first started knitting again. Umm…. there are some gauge issues… and some intarsia problems….. but overall a lot of love for my D. I hustled to finish it by the weekend (even with a nasty cold ) because… when I presented my hubby with a BIG box for his birthday on Friday (thank you very much to all of you well wishers… he was touched!) he immediatley said “Is this my blanket????” and was so excited. Uh…. had to fix that, right?
I felt kinda crappy and too self-critical about the blanket. He just wanted something that I made to wrap himself up in when he is cold… or alone… or even when I steal the covers ( for the record: I NEVER do this… right, honey?).
So, lesson learned. Stop agonizing over perfectionism and just let go for a minute. See it from another perspective. Blanket done. Whew!
In other news…

I have created a ring for PIF. Feel free to check it out and join!
Did you see the PIF map has added more markers? I am so excited! I sent 12 out and now there are 28 PIF’s on record! Whoo hoo! How killer is that? You have no idea how happy it makes me to see more markers on the map or just to know that folks are being kind to each other. For no reason at all other than to be kind. I think this world could use a little more of that, don’t you?

C*EYE*BER Fiber news…. I am getting ready to dye a huge run of yarn. If you have any requests you can email me here.

Thanks all… remember… keep Paying It Forward!