Clocks and Lists

Sometimes I feel like my life is pulled along by clock ticks and the flutter of to-do lists found floating alongside the used tissues and old sticks of gum inside my purse.

 

I find myself feeling frustrated and angry at helpless bystanders (a.k.a. family members and dog).

Today I just stopped being angry and accepted the responsibility. I went to the store. I folded 345 white tube socks. I cooked two meals. I burned one meal. We ate it anyway. I cleaned up the dishes.

And here I am at the end of the day. Happy. Relaxed. Organized. 

Maybe clocks and lists are not so bad after all.

(These photos are from a quilt I completed a few years ago called, "It's Not What I Expected.")

I Love Electricity

I love electricity.

Yesterday afternoon, the power was out for a few hours. I think a tree fell on a line in my neighborhood. I sat alone and thought, 

I want to open the refrigerator, watch tv, take a hot shower with all the lights on, turn up the heat, listen to music, surf the net, print photos, do laundry, read with good light, sew, run the dishwasher, use my hot glue gun, iron, cook, bake, make toast, microwave some potatoes, and blend up a smoothie.

There was no sound. The machines were all quiet.

I felt very lonely.

The quiet crept in.

Even the dog knew something was  up.

But just as I was about to get blue, the power kicked back on. The room was flooded with yellow light. The microwave beeped and the refrigerator started to hum. 

And my world started spinning again.

In celebration, I created a collage ode to my washing machine. I needed to create something for a Cloth Paper Scissors Magazine reader challenge involving a flower stencil, so I decided to use that stencil on my washing machine collage.

... time to get back to my laundry.

My Love Hate with Things

I've been creating pieces using these "thing" shapes for a while now. They keep creeping into my work without solid explanation. I've been wondering where I was going with these. Some thoughts have come to the surface.
On New Year's Eve, my friend Tracy (an art teacher) talked about an organizational assessment she took at work recently. The assessment revealed her to be both a minimalist and a pack rat. She wants the look and life of a minimalist, but she just can't help hanging on to her stuff. I heard that loud and clear.
My love of stuff is a source of both joy and self-loathing. I get rid of stuff, then happily fill up the empty spaces with more stuff. The sickening aspect of this stuff love happens years later, when I discover something I was once so excited to get is now out of style, worthless, or worse yet... unrecognizable. (What was I going to do with this?)
These shapes are working their way into my art as a way of exploring this twisted relationship with things. Imagine lifting the couch cushions to find this pile of stuff. Some recognizable. Some a total mystery. All a history of energy spent wanting.

January Collage

This collage turned out to look a lot like how I feel about January. I know I should be excited about a new year and all. But I can't help it. I feel a little blue, a little blah, a little surrounded by ominous birds and their droppings.

 At this point I could try to cheer myself up and proclaim an honorable goal of making 2011 the best year yet.

  

But I think I will wait for February instead.

The Skinny Jeans

We all have them. The jeans we keep for that elusive day when we have the body we had when we were 18. The skinny jeans. What a concept. Do I really think that having babies, working, caring for a family, and turning 40 are things that will lead to a person looking like she is 18 again?
It's time to let go of the skinny jeans. Instead, shake those roomy hips, jiggle that squishy tummy, cut that gorgeous denim into strips, and quilt it!

Make Time Stop Please

I just had the birds and bees discussion with my youngest child. I don't regret telling her. I am glad she knows. But I can't help feeling sad and sensing a speeding-up of time.

I feel like we have been clicking up the hill of a giant roller coaster. So far we've had a pretty easy ride. But now we are nearing the end of the enormous hill and the clicking has gotten louder and slowed a little in preparation for a giant thrust of speed and pressure and wind and change.
Could we just stop the ride for a while? I would like to stop and get out and walk down the emergency exit.

Wrapped Up

It's been pretty cold here in Georgia for the last month. I'm spending lots of time in my fuzzy red robe, covered in fuzzy blankets. All this talk of fuzziness makes me think of my cocoon pendant creations.

I make these cocoons by wrapping interesting yarn around a pipe cleaner, bending the wrapped pipe cleaner into a cocoon shape, and wrapping wire and beads around the whole thing. I hang the pendant from a thin leather cord or a wire necklace.

Whenever I wear a cocoon, I get some interesting comments. I know some people think they look like something the cat coughed up. But I like them. I think it is fun to imagine what might hatch out one day.