Pamela Thiele Art Quilts

The Dangers of Walking

Yesterday was a BIG DAY. Both Button and I reached  important landmarks.

Mine was I finally got to a half mile on the treadmill. Given that right before Halloween I fell (my own stupid fault) and managed to tear the tendons and ligaments in both knees, this feels like a really BIG DEAL to me.

I am ignoring the fact that in my young adulthood I used to jog 3 and ½ miles a day. Which meant getting up at 5 a.m., going out in the suburban New Jersey neighborhood I lived in – where absolutely NO ONE walked anywhere — in fact when we were house-hunting in that area, one of the realtors looked out a window once and said, “OMG it’s ‘The Walker!’ That woman WALKS everywhere!” which clued us into what kind of place we were considering.

Not so bad as Beverly Hills, which I used to walk through on trips to L.A. and generally was followed by a police car, always about a block away. Honest. We were out there on business a lot in the late 1980s and the police only stopped following me, once I started walking with my two little poodles, (we did travel with them) which, I think, put me in the safe category of dog walker. Especially since one of them would NOT walk more than a block. She couldn’t see the point. So I was carrying a small white poodle and walking a small black poodle and absolutely looked harmless. The only other people who were not followed in Beverly Hills were women in maids’ uniforms. As long as they were headed towards  a bus stop.

Where was I? Oh, yes, so I would get up at 5 in the morning, do my jog, come back, dress for work, catch the train to Hoboken, the PATH to 34^th Street, and walk up to 57^th, where my office was.

But that was then. Since my fall, I have edged my way forward with a variety of goals. Being able to go downstairs in a normal manner, albeit a tad slowly, was a major one. Getting on the treadmill was a biggy. And yesterday, making it to a half mile, was huge. Of course it took me about 4 hours (more or less). But I did it.

Button’s landmark was equally impressive. She has gone back to being a poodle and is once again picky about her food. While she and Luka were ill for those 8 horrible weeks, they dined on chicken and rice and yoghurt. But since getting FINALLY healthy, they have been having kibbles.

Luka, accessing her inner Lab, eats in about 2 minutes flat. Button however has been recovering her attitude. “Kibble,” she says. “I am a POODLE. I don’t eat JUST kibble.”

So she takes two or three kibbles in her mouth, walks to a rug in the living room, eats each one individually; looks out the window; looks at Luka who is saying “Can I have your kibble? Huh? Can I? Can I? Huh? Can I?”; looks at me to see if I have somehow gotten smart enough to give her something worth eating; sighs; looks at Lauren to see if SHE is going to crack and throw in some chicken; sighs; and takes two or three more kibbles to the living room rug.

It’s good to have her back to normal!

real snow dogs

Earlier this week we had a Spring snow…wetter than normal. Seemed like an actual blizzard for a while. But, since it’s Colorado, mostly melted in a day or so. The dogs loved it. Couldn’t wait to run all over the yard. Begged to be allowed to play on the deck. What is it about snow and dogs?

Button did a lot of great snow snorkeling.

And Luka eventually laid down which she apparently loves to do. Go figure.

“They” say March and April are our big snow months. But the good thing about that is that the temps go up again the next day and the snow goes away. Mostly. Plus our little micro-climate that we live in — this small slice of the Front Range — seems to get fewer of the storms than the rest of the state. Even Denver gets more snow and it’s right next door. And WEST Denver! Fuddegaboutit!

SNOW DAY

Finally we have  had a true snow storm like the ones the rest of the country has been blasted with this winter. Of course it’s Spring and our storm is a typical Colorado Spring Storm. Or so I hear. Wet, heavy, and deep. Well over a foot.

The dogs are thrilled. They played outside on the deck which had about a foot of snow for 45 minutes and had to be cajoled inside. And then rushed to the downstairs shower because the snow was caked so intensely on their legs and tummies we had to use warm water to melt it off. They didn’t protest so we figured they were feeling the cold and appreciated our efforts.

And then we had to lock them out of our bedroom in an attempt to keep the bed dry. Despite the towels we have piled on it to absorb whatever moisture the dogs bring in with them (mostly mud nowadays)—there’s just so much a towel can do.

They were irritated with being excluded. They huffed and puffed but finally settled in the living room. Right now the third load of dog towels is in the washing machine, and the second load is in the dryer.

But it’s a pleasure to see their joy in the snow. They are sooo happy to bounce around in it and chase each other. I wonder why dogs love snow so much. Some of them do outgrow this when they get older – especially the poodles I’ve known. But right now the girls have a puppy enthusiasm for the whole thing. It’s a delight.

Despite having to shower them off and dry them up and wash the towels yet again –it’s worth it. I bet they wonder why we don’t take advantage of this great treat and join them. It is tempting on a day like today. The snow looks like great whipped frosting. And I am itching to do a snowperson. On the other hand, there’s a lot to be said for being warm. Maybe next time.

Putting it together

Have started to piece the top of The Water Is Wide. This could involve long rows of straight seams. Or – the way I do it – sort of straight seams.

I cannot sew a straight line to save my life. Can’t do it. Don’t even tell me what you’ve tried. I’ve already tried that. Twice. And it didn’t work.

I credit this inability – which also laps over into not being able to draw a straight line – to my dyslexia.

Dyslexia has been a gift for me because it has caused me to spend my life thinking of alternate ways of doing just about everything. I just can’t do most things the way most people do them.

It took 21 years for my dyslexia to be diagnosed so I spent my childhood figuring out how the heck to get the same results as everyone else, but having to use different methods.

By the time I was in a place where I could be diagnosed (graduate school in Evanston, Illinois), I was a highly functioning dyslexic. Most people refused to believe I had a “disability” or “challenge;” they mostly thought I was lazy or hasty. Because of the mistakes I made. When I actually thought I was doing something right.

After I was diagnosed, I learned a few tricks that greatly improved my accuracy in what I wrote – where my dyslexia was most evident. And then, of course, word processing came into being, and suddenly there was spell check and a whole lot of my problem just went away.

But my “condition” is always there and it surfaces a lot when I am sewing pieces together. Again let me say I’ve tried all the tricks.

When these don’t work, I decide to go with what I am able to do. When it comes to seams, that means sewing each one a few times until the aggregate adds up to a straight line. My quilt seams are the strongest of anyone – because each seam has been sewn multiple times.

The other thing is, I have developed an appreciation for mismatched corners, angled seams, squashed points on my stars. I think these make people do double and triple takes and spend more time with my quilts. So even when, through some fluke, I DO sew a straight seam or a perfectly pointed star, I then make it crooked or squashed. It has become my style.

Where was I? Ah, yes, getting back to the Water is Wide, depending how I piece this, I could have a large number of long straight seams to contend with.

So I am sewing it in chunks. A time-honored method. This reduces most of the seams to more manageable lengths. Although all the seams will need to be sewn a few times to get them to lie the way I want.

Still the top should lie flat if I assemble my chunks carefully. And then I will worry about the border. I think the quilt will be too small without one. And probably I’ll wind up doing piano keys – my go-to border. Although I just don’t know. Will that detract too much from the center?

Gotta think about that.

A Thousand Cranes

I just finished folding a thousand origami cranes.

This tradition goes back to the end of World War II, when a young girl, who survived the atomic bomb our nation dropped on Hiroshima, set out to fold a thousand cranes as she prayed to recover from the effects of the bomb. She didn’t live long enough to complete the set, so her friends finished them and placed them at a Shinto shrine. Since then the idea of folding one thousand and leaving them as an offering some place significant has continued.

This is the fifth set of one thousand I’ve folded.

The act of folding is highly soul satisfying and very meditative. Kind of like quilting. I have always chosen a subject I’d focus on as I folded each crane. And when I finish each set, I’ve chosen a place to leave them that would be in harmony with my prayers as I was folding them.

Here’s what I’m talking about.

The first set of cranes I folded, I did as a thank you to the powers that be that I survived a hotel fire. I burned them in a memorial I did for my dad a year to the day after he died.

The second set of cranes I made as a gesture of gratitude for surviving skin cancer—I had a malignant melanoma removed. I left these cranes at the gates of a nuclear power plant on the coast of Connecticut. I had gone over from Long Island as part of a group protesting the plant. If there’s an accident or an attack on that plant, it will wipe out the people on eastern Long Island very quickly.

The third set of cranes I did to honor my sight and pray for ongoing vision. I sent these to Trinity Church on Wall Street in Manhattan after 9/11/01.

The fourth set of cranes I folded to honor my dogs – all of them really, but especially Tag, a toy poodle with a joyful heart, and Lauren’s large grey poodle, Vita, a wise and lovely soul. As well as the melodious Juney, tender Jamie Lee, earnest Pepper, eccentric Peekay, and smart Tucker. And the ‘old girl,” Lucy. They each were extraordinary beings and I  miss them and am grateful I knew each of them.

I left this set in Battery Park in lower Manhattan at a rally for equal marriage rights for us gays.

The set I’ve just finished, I did to honor Kiva, our sensitive beautiful blue poodle and Jess Jo, the last of “the littles”, the multiple small dogs I named above. Jesse helped bring Kiva up and adored being the senior girl at last, after 8 years of being the youngest of several. Kiva was a healer and brilliant. She died of bloat during our move to Colorado. She was 3 ½. Jesse missed Kiva and her old life deeply, and died of a broken heart a month after we got here. She was 12.

I will leave this set of cranes at the Matthew Shepard memorial in Cheyenne, Wyoming. However long it takes us to get there, we will now have something to honor him with when we are there.

Dogs have always accepted me for who I am. They never care that I’m gay. They never care that they have two moms and no dad. They support my activism by loving me and being thrilled every time they see me. For dogs, there is no judgment, just acceptance and gratitude for every meal they get.

Now we have two dogs, Luka, a labradoodle and seizure dog, and Button, a standard poodle we rescued from a friend who was dying, who is also incredibly good at healing.

Someday I imagine I will fold a thousand cranes to honor them. But I hope that’s well into the future.

Whew!

I did it. Announced my website and my newly professional status to my guild. And I survived. In fact, it felt good. Very validating.

But it also felt like  step one. With so many more to go.  And heck, I thought I’d already taken so many steps to get to here. Funny how that happens. Kind of like quilting. So many steps before the quilt is done. So I guess I have to remember to enjoy each step and keep pushing forward.

I underestimated how emotionally draining this would be for me. Who knew? I was truly nervous before I spoke — normally I am not nervous speaking in public — and I felt totally drained once I sat down. Amazing.

Basically I thanked the guild for its support and inspiration in helping me determine I could do this. Two people there have really been great — the former president who really hondles me to do more and move forward. And the web master who also designed this site.

The rest of the guild members are almost always pleasant but I notice that, as with so many guilds, they tend to hang with their friends. Heck, I think I did this back East in my old guild. I’m not sure how guilds can overcome this. But it is hard breaking in as a new person. Also true in life. This time I had a swell talk with someone I’ve seen every meeting. So one by one, in fact (moan) step by step, I make friends. Having moved here to Colorado after 18 years in the same place, I am relearning how to make friends. I thought I was a natural at it. I forgot how many steps are involved. Kind of — again — like quilting.

I wonder if people realize how much a friendly chat means to someone new. I think I will start looking for the new people each time and talk to them. This seems like DUH to me but I have not been going it. Too shy? Too tired? Who knows. It’s time, though, for me to start reaching out more.

So Monday night was not just the step of announcing the website, but another step toward building a community for myself. I think it takes less time to finish a quilt.

ULP!!!

Although I love a guild’s Show and Tell, I am always a little nervous presenting my own quilts because I am  really trying to do different things with my quilts from  what a lot of quilters do. Intentionally but still…

What am I afraid of? That all the guild members will rise up as one and scream, YECH! How likely is that? Most quilters are pretty polite, I’ve found. If they hate your quilt, they won’t say much. To you, at least. I really there’s a pill in almost every guild, you know the type, she sits and frowns mightily at you and makes you think that besides the fact that your quilt stinks, your nose is running.

Although I have learned that sometimes that’s just someone’s face. I was getting really upset with an audience member at my trunk show whose face got longer and more frowned up, the more quilts I showed. But after my show, she came up to me (I think I may have winced) and was lovely, enthusiastic, and supportive. So maybe she was just uncomfortable in her chair or had had a terrible day.

I am trying to do something new, I think, with quilting. I have eliminated all embellishment from my quilts and am focusing on the prints and trying to make my quilts dance. This is a hard thing to explain in the brief period you have during Show and Tell.

And I am one of the first who wants everyone else to take less time during Show and Tell. So I can’t then allow myself to  take a ton of time. I guess.

Tonight is my guild meeting. Obviously. That’s why I’m fretting hours in advance. I want to show off my recent quilt, tell about my website, and thank several people for their encouragement.

While still being brief, funny, and to the point.

I’m thinking, courtesy of the Oscars, of writing down what I need to say. Although this year. I didn’t notice anyone at the Oscars using those crib sheets the way they used to. Maybe it’s because I was sewing labels on my quilts during the show, so I mostly listened. But those crib sheets used to be ubiquitous and you just don’t see them anymore.

And isn’t the Oscars the best for an excuse to sit in one chair and get some good hand work done?

Where was I? Ah yes, nervous about tonight.

YIPES

It’s been a couple of challenging weeks. Which is when quilting is so important. Just touching my fabric helps. The dogs have been fighting some kind of crud for 7 weeks now – poor things! We’ve been making rice and chicken until we are both sick of the smell. And yesterday we added squash to the mixture. $600 in vets bills and still no solution.

What does this have to do with quilting? Simply that in quilting – any aspect of it: cutting out pieces, piecing, appliquéing, actually quilting—there is such peace. A soothing place to go.As all quilters know, I know.

Did I mention the root canal I had this week? I felt I didn’t have the umph to come to my studio for two days but that was a wrong decision. I should have. Quilting lowers my blood pressure, ups my optimism, soothes my soul. The dogs come down and eventually stretch out for a while and rest. I’m calmer so they can be calm.

I hope I keep this in mind and act on it, during the crises to come because life has crises. And I have the best coping mechanism in the world. If I can remember it.