Fabric possibilities

I'm playing with another baby quilt now. Just fooling around and in no hurry, but I wanted to begin using these fabrics, and they seem so suited to a sweet baby quilt. The colors are not quite right in this photo...but the fabrics are by April Cornell, who designs wonderful children's clothing.

Also have some Funky Monkey yardage that I love. Not sure what I'll do with these, but aren't they cute?

I've added a link in the sidebar to a "gallery" of my quilted concoctions. Not everything I've done, but most of the pictures I've already posted on this blog now reside there.

On quilts and "bad" poetry

Margaret C. just posted this to the Alternative Quilt List, and I'm probably the last to see it...even though I love Jigzone. They used Carol Taylor's Convergence quilt from the wonderful Confetti series.

Pepek asked about a maudlin poem I mentioned about a dog named Rags. I used to check out a poetry anthology from the grade school library, but I could never finish that particular poem without tears.

I decided to Google the poem and was a bit surprised that I found it and that it has been taken up by many animal rights groups. Written by Edward Vance Cooke, and possibly based on this real life Rags (who had a happier ending), the title is They Called Him Rags. My mother would throw up her hands when I came home with that anthology because of the quite uncharacteristic sobbing she had to endure. This poem and Eugene Field's poem Little Boy Blue always made me cry. The only place I ever saw the Rags poem was in that anthology of nearly 50 years ago, but Little Boy Blue was a frequent sorrow. I couldn't even read it to my children.

So...both poems are overly sentimental and manipulative. Not great poetry by any stretch of the imagination; yet both contributed to my life-long love of poetry and, perhaps, to a form of empathy that could be a good thing. Although after finding They Called Him Rags again, I am doubtful if anyone would encourage children to read the poem (as I say Mother was frustrated by deliberately caused grief).

What is the importance, then, of the maudlin or silly or overly rhyming poems that we loved as children? They captured our imagination, they encouraged the love of language, they helped form our opinions. Another "bad" poem by Edward Vance Cooke that I loved as a child was How Did You Die? With lines like "Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce? Or a trouble is what you make it," the message is that you have more control than you think over your life and the way it affects you. How you live is more important than how you die.

I'll be thinking all day about the poems of my childhood; I was a voracious reader and poetry was a large part of what my reading. What are some of the poems that have stayed with you over the years?

More pictures

Fee bought Mila this tutu and some sandals. Here she is putting on her "tutu sandals" and dancing to "Hey, Daddy, there's a dragon in the driveway..."








This is my favorite photo of little Max. Such a sweet peaceful soul. Well, what do you expect? I am a proud Grandma. Gushing is expected, is it not?




Reading in bed: Jenny Claire
and
Mila
and
Dr. Seuss.
Mila is a big fan.

Max est arrive. Lui et sa mere vont tres bien.

Got back home yesterday a little before 5:30. Too tired to do much other than play with the dogs, wash my clothes, and do some calming hand work while watching television as I waited for Fee to get home.

Thanks to all of you who have sent "congratulations"...!





I did get started on the mountain of email and get the pictures loaded on to Picassa, so I can show my wonderful grandchildren.

The first 3 are just after birth. The doctor and nurses were still there and had just finished cleaning Max up. He was 6 lbs., 14 oz. at birth and ready to nurse as soon as the nurses handed him back to Mom.

Here he is right after coming home. He is so sweet and only cries when he is hungry. The rest of the time he is either sleeping or looking around in the short-sighted manner of new babies. Same day, but after a change of clothes and diaper.

Max is finally here...

Max arrived yesterday and is even more beautiful than we could have imagined. Perfect. Erin was in great spirits, laughing and proud, and nursing the little fellow as soon as he was cleaned up. He latched on with a vengeance. Eric snapped lots of pictures of Max with Momma, alone, with Mila, etc. Father and Grandfather were both beaming; Mother and Grandmother, cooing.

Must say that I've never seen a group of friendlier, helpful, and attentive nurses anywhere.

You know I can't wait to post pictures, but that will have to wait until I get home.

Off to Jackson

Pepektheassassin's comment about memorizing poetry reminded me of this quote: The most important tribute any human being can pay to a poem or a piece of prose he or she really loves is to learn it by heart. Not by brain, by heart; the expression is vital. George Steiner

I emailed a response to her, then noticed she was "no reply" and decided to respond here because I love the idea of memorizing poetry. The quote, one of my favorites, illustrates the difference between memorizing for love of a piece and memorizing as a chore.

I'm getting things back together and will leave shortly for Jackson. Baby Max should be here in the morning.

New Poet

Thanks to Liz Elayne, I now have a new poet to love, Li-Young Lee. This site has brief biographical information and links to several of his poems. The only one I was familiar with was "The Gift," which I'd read somewhere several years ago, but had forgotten about.

Here on the things have continued very hot--up to 105 one day. Yesterday was better at 102, but the heat indexes are pretty scary... up to 110.

Thomas says its 110 in California at his seminar, but he's having a good time.

Poetry Thursday

I have debated on this week's topic. John Donne, The Flea? Andrew Marvell, To His Coy Mistress? I love the humor and the light-hearted approach to sex in both of these poems. And yet, I didn't choose an amusing poem, but one that expresses the importance of sex and its loss.

The photo is by Carl Van Vechten; it was taken in 1933 and is considered public domain. Found on Wikipedia.






What Lips My Lips Have Kissed...

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Eric's sunflower

Son-in-law Eric's sunflower. Mila was so excited to see this.

------------
Calvin: I like to verb words.

Hobbes: What?

Calvin: I take nouns and adjectives and use them as verbs. Remember when 'access' was a thing? Now, it's something you do. It got verbed. Verbing weirds language.

Hobbes: Maybe we can eventually make language a complete impediment to understanding.

On the subject of language, I love idioms and here is a link to idioms and their origins.

Blackmail
The word "blackmail" became popular in the 1800's and comes from the clan chieftains who ran protection rackets on farmers in Scotland. If the farmers didn't pay the mail (an old term for rent), the chieftains would steal their cattle and crops. Since this was considered evil, it was considered "black". (I've never heard this before...wonder if it is true.)

I read about this one in a novel recently:

Mad As A Hatter
"Mad As A Hatter: refers to mercury nitrate that was used by hat makers to make fur pelts softer and suitable for hat use. After years of mercury exposure it would make the user quite mentally unstable.

Yesterday's adventures

Our visit to the cemeteries to verify dates was quite enjoyable although unbearably hot. I left the house to pick up Laddie shortly after 7:00 A.M., but by the time we got to Ringgold, it was HOT. Here are some interesting cars we saw in Jamestown.

The cars were parked right next to the lot where the two story house my aunt and uncle lived in when they were small was located. The house is no longer there, but the story is that my Uncle Max and Aunt Carmen loved watching the people at the train station from the second story window.

Also, on a back road road that led to Jamestown, we found a road named after the family near where my grandfather grew up.



And an interesting skeletal tree.
Here is the way I documented the different dates by taking photos so we didn't have to spend too much time writing things down in the terrible heat. This is the marker for Laddie's grandparents, my great grandparents. His grandfather was born in Scotland, but his parents came here when he was very young (I'm not really too sure about all of this...). He is the one who nicknamed Laddie, but died when Laddie was two.

Literary mapping

Just found this interesting link that I'm posting here on my reading blog as well. The site produces a map of authors. For example: If you read a particular author and enjoy his/her work, you can get a map of what other people read who also read that author. Not only can it introduce you to new authors, but it can remind you of authors that have slipped your mind.

For example, people who read Amy Tan may also read Anna Quindlan, Gregory Maguire, Minette Walters, etc.

People who enjoy Barbara Kingsolver may also be reading Joyce Carol Oates, Jane Smiley, Margaret Atwood, Annie Proulx.

What you realize is that your own reading patterns are repeated by so many others. And it's fun to see the connections between authors.

Goethe: Heinrich Boll, Charlotte Bronte, Descartes, Nietzsche, Bertold Brecht.

I must leave this alone!!!

105 degrees here yesterday. The entire country is suffering from this heat wave. It was 96 at 8:00 last night!

Hot!

Yesterday's high was 104 with a heat index of 110 in the shade. I've not heard them use the term "in the shade" with mention of the heat index before, but I know that even in the shade, the air felt like it was inside an oven.

Laddie wants to go to Ringgold and Jamestown this morning, but now I'm worried about the heat which is supposed to be back in the 3 digit range.

Still no baby...

I waited on pins and needles yesterday, because I thought Erin's doctor was going to induce labor. What she did, however, was a natural means of inducing labor called "stripping the membranes" -- she did not send her to the hospital and give her a labor-inducing drug. So far, this natural method has not worked, and I'm going to go about my normal activities today (with cell phone at ready) and silent prayers to encourage Max's safe arrival.

When the doctor indicated two weeks or so ago that the baby might be early and told Erin to take it easy, rest, and not exert herself, I went on high alert. Maintaining this feeling has become stressful, and the actual due date in not until July 28, so I'm going to try to release the anxiety that has built up and go with the flow. Same advice to you, Erin, my love. And hope the air conditioning is working again!

Old friends

Yesterday afternoon, Suzie called. She was in Nachitoches, on her way to Shreveport! An hour or so later, she called again, and I dashed over to her Mom's to see her. She looks so damn good! All the continuing work on their house for this past year, all the stress, discomfort, smells, and problems that Katrina has caused--and she has emerged triumphant. Both of her boys and her nephew are living with them at present and working on the house. Kyle was so excited when they finally got a front door. The strange workings of Katrina to make you grateful for garbage pickup, for front doors and roofs, for water and electricity. For all the things that so many of us take for granted, but that are luxuries in reality.

It was so good to see her and to hear her discuss things that I can barely imagine and to realize how this disaster revealed so much about what people are capable of... And how wonderful to have sons that can come home to help them recover their lives.

Seeing her is always a refreshing event in my life and seeing her looking so good brings back the feeling of youth and eagerness she has always inspired in me. She and Bobby have been through so much during this past year, and I'm so thankful that they are capable of the physical labor and mental strength to continue rebuilding their home and their lives.

This picture is from last year when they escaped up here with almost nothing during the evacuation of New Orleans. Not really expecting the the complete catastrophe that occurred and not expecting to be here for months... Erin and Mila were visiting at the time (I was so glad Sue got to meet Mila), and Eric was stuck in Jackson without power because Jackson got a bad dose of K. as well.

I wrote some about it here in an entry last year.

Poetry Thursday

Poetry Thursday's topic this week is humorous poetry. This is a link to a poem I've always loved by Thomas Hardy. Hardy is not usually known for humor (or for his poetry either, although he wanted to be a poet more than an author) but his poem about a prosperous (relatively speaking) prostitute has always been a favorite of mine.

And here is another favorite from Yeats that is also a departure from his usual tone and quite funny...well, I've always thought so...

For Anne Gregory

'NEVER shall a young man,
Thrown into despair
By those great honey-coloured
Ramparts at your ear,
Love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair.''

But I can get a hair-dye
And set such colour there,
Brown, or black, or carrot,
That young men in despair
May love me for myself alone
And not my yellow hair.

''I heard an old religious man
But yesternight declare
That he had found a text to prove
That only God, my dear,
Could love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair.'

William Butler Yeats

Anxiety and laughter...

I've been in a funk all week, although I've certainly resisted this yucky feeling. High anxiety. Unable to focus. Really tired of this feeling which may be familiar, but never welcome. The water lily serves as a peaceful, serene image of what I want to feel.

"A good laugh is as good as a prayer sometimes." L.M. Montgomery.

When I saw this quote, I found another example of synchronicity because

1) laughter does so much to dispense with anxiety and stress and
2) I found my copy of Anne of Windy Poplars yesterday and re-introduced myself to Anne, Aunt Kate & Aunt Chatty, Rebecca Dew, Jen Pringle, little Elizabeth, Pauline, and so many more. Amazing how quickly I fell into the life of Summerside, its topography, characters, and events.

The view from Anne's tower window has remained clear for all of these years, and I'm once again pleasantly aware of Montgomery's ability to draw such vivid characters with all of their flaws, eccentricities, and strengths in so few words. No wonder they have remained real for me over the years. Montgomery had such a humorous view of people, celebrating the oddities and exasperating traits in a way that makes you want to laugh out loud. So discovering the above quote this morning after starting the novel last night felt like I must be in for a turning point.

I really need to get a complete works for Mila. I can re-read and enjoy them, and Mila will have them when she is ready.

My copy of Anne of Windy Poplars was given to me by someone in our family when I was in grade school, but I can't remember whose it was. It could have been Mother's, the copyright date is 1936 when she would have been about 11. Or it could have been Aunt Cissy's. Poor little book, it shows it age, but the yellowed pages read just as easily. In the front is a book plate that Erin placed there claiming the book as part of her library.

This is a daguerrotype of my grandfather as a boy. See how someone embellished the watch and chain? He was born in 1881, so this may have been made around 1887-88...

New quilt

This is the piece I'm working on now. Mistakes: 1) fooling with the darn metallic embroidery thread for quilting the center of the flower - doesn't show 2) using variegated thread for quilting around flower 3) should have used a thicker thread as well, I think 4) not deciding on a quilting pattern before starting; a little time spent on deciding what to do would have been a better idea than making it up as I go along.

Have considered taking the majority of the quilting out and starting over with a solid color and thicker thread, but I'm to lazy and it is too easy to say, "I'm just practicing."

Jacobinia

Taijii Legacy

I've just started today really practicing for the competition; I created the routines a couple of weeks ago, but haven't really practiced them until today. I think this is because everything is so up in the air--literally everything in our lives right now--that I just decided that I wasn't going to be able to make it to Dallas, so why bother.

But had a good push hands practice on Saturday, and as usual, I'm reminded of how much I enjoy it. Didn't feel well Sunday or Monday, so today, I put in extra effort. Had an e-mail from Patty Sun asking if I had another internal form to use...but I don't. If I make it to Dallas this year, I'll be competing in Wu style empty hand, saber, straight sword, restricted step push hands, and free style push hands.

Now, I need to go ahead and edge and mow the lawn.

blue piece and hand quilting

In March (I think), I ordered some panels from Karen Miller, beautiful pieces that I absolutely loved. Didn't know what I was going to do with them, just that I wanted them. After finishing Max's baby quilt, I decided that one of them would be a good way to practice my hand quilting. My stitches did become more regular, and the realization that hand quilting was equal to knitting or crocheting in relaxation made this worthwhile. The credit for the piece, of course, goes to the creator of the fabric, but the pleasure was all mine as I stitched. My stitches are more regular even if not as small as some people are able to do, so I'm pleased.

Yesterday after work (left about 2:00, so I'd have time), I went to see Aunt Janice who was looking great and doing so much better. Next time, I need to remember my camera and take a picture--she looked so pretty.

Then on out to the other end of town to see Ann who has made great progress in the last week. Every time I see her, I can see improvement, and her speech is easier to understand. Ann D. and Olivia were also visiting, and it was good to catch up with them, too.





After leaving Ann, I went by and picked up Laddie and took him to dinner and checked his meds. He is pleased that Marty will be getting home soon. "I miss those boys." :0 Me, too!







Got home around 6:30, and Marty called to check in. They had a good time, were going to spend the night in Kentucky, then head on home today.

Also found message from Erin, and we hope to have a baby next week. Up until after 1:00 this morning finishing up the binding on the blue piece. Need to start something else so that I will have a piece to work on when I go to Jackson after baby Max arrives.

Slept until 7:00 this morning, and have now wasted a good part of the morning, so better get busy.

of novels and old pictures

So far, I'm having more consistent luck with my reads this month. Three down, and I've enjoyed them all. The best, however, is Thread of Grace by Mary Doria Russell (reviewed on my book blog). Last month, I read several stinkers, and probably will read some again this month, but so far, I'm pleased.

This is a picture of my uncle, my father, and a family friend taken in 1928. Laddie is in the middle and both Uncle Buddy and Laddie are tow-headed which surprised me. The third little fellow is "Jackie-Boy" Springs.

Children's Art

This afternoon on my way home, NPR had a brief interview with Jonathan Fineberg, an art history professor at the University of Illinois. He has a book that examines the work of such famous artists as Picasso and Paul Klee when they were children. The interview was interesting and informative, and I'd love to read the book and see the exhibit in Washington, D. C. The title is When We Were Very Young: Art That Is Not Child's Play. Here is the link to the NPR interview. You can listen to the complete interview as well. Under the Winslow Homer painting, click on the View Gallery notation to see more examples. Interesting points include Fineberg's differentiation between rendering and observation and the influence (in a negative way) of standardized education.

chameleon love...

I just got home a about ten minutes ago and found these two looking for all the world like "afternoon delight." I watched and neither made any effort to move. Went and got my camera, came back, and took about 10 pictures, and they just continued to look lost in bliss. They were still completely relaxed and happy when I left and allowed them their privacy.

Maybe these photos are in poor taste, but I've never seen anything like this before and think they look sweet. He looks quite protective and gentle, don't you think?

Didn't get home last night until about 7:00. Today was a long day, too, but a pleasant one. Laddie and I drove to Minden to visit Aunt Mary who is doing so much better. We got back to town a little before 5:00 and had a quick bite to eat, then I came home.

Fee is supposed to come home tonight. If so, I could use a Margarita on the Rocks!