An open letter…

(This is not intentionally vague – just protecting identities while still allowing myself to write to expunge loneliness and doubt.  I am changing and part of that change is expressing to the void.  Please look away if you want to – but know it really isn’t as bad as I make it out to be.  All hyperbole is my own and doesn’t reflect the opinions of the network.)


Dear You of the Finest Beauty,

I know I am being childish.  But the hurt is so deep I don’t know how else to behave.  A real mother would sacrifice her pride and her fear to get along.  Or a real mother would scream until you acknowledge the true horror that she is.  A real mother would pound on the slammed door.  A real mother would not sink into the shadows.  But I am not a real mother.  I know what real mothers do, I just can’t do it.  Your beautiful, precious, beloved face – your tiny triumph over the entire universe – gave me the look three times.  And I am out.

Just as I am a fat person who knows how to diet but doesn’t, I am a woman who knows how to mother, but doesn’t.  I feel I need to prove my point to the universe – that I could, that I can be a mother, but I am not going to.  I have loved and sacrificed.  I have looked away from the pity of others who wonder why I invest in a family that is not mine. I am as stark a sadness as every other childless woman – my loneliness is as old as barren wombs – a bloodless artery through all of history.

But I have my pride.  My stupid, selfish, pointless pride.  Or maybe it is my fear.  I am not going to kick the football.  You can’t make me.  My womb and my heart are not going to wait for your beauty to bless us.  You have what you need from the world, I am not going to try to sell you what you don’t need.  Maybe you will come back.  Maybe you will see the point of letting me in.  Maybe my legacy will be something.

But Maybe doesn’t have me to kick around anymore.  I am joy and I am light and I am funny and I am loving and I have more to give than anybody could ever imagine.  But for sure I am not strong – I am not courageous –  I can’t bear the pain of reaching out again to be met with beautiful blankness.  Beautiful heartbreaking silence coming out of a heartbreakingly beautiful face.  It hurts too much.

As the kids say, you do you.  And I am going to do me.  And maybe someday soon we will meet again.  In the meantime, I am going to try to pick myself up and dust myself off and find an outlet for all that is me.

With all my love and all my heartbreak,

Me of the Giant Goofy Face



IMG_4031Today was hard.  I felt easily bruised, easily offended.  One of those days where being a grown up and choosing not to take my toys and go home was hard.  I have a pit of anxiety that I can’t quite place.  And I am oh so hungry.

I have learned in my baby-steps meditation practice to expand the feeling around anxiety.  Don’t dig in, but notice it generally, as if from across the room.  I am trying to do that with my anxiety and my hunger.  Notice, but don’t fall in.

I am working on having touchstones – everyday activities that can ground me.  Tonight I exercised, sewed, and now am blogging.  I think those transform my evenings from eating or thinking about eating to something else.  I don’t feel exhausted and ashamed right now.

I made this block during my hour of sewing today.  A fairly wonky thistle.  I made every mistake – put the green strips wrong side up, sewed the leaves upside down and then backwards.  When I got everything facing the right direction with the right side of the fabric, I called it.  A little bit wonky, but done.  There is a metaphor there that I can’t find right now.

Talk to you tomorrow.

Mocktails and inventory

IMG_4029There was this brief moment when I was perfectly together.  At least that was my memory.  At the time I am sure I felt like I had many things to improve.  But I was healthy (thinner) and had almost no debt.  I remember wearing a crisp white shirt and fixing seltzer water with lots of ice and citrus in a faux vintage antique glass from Martha Stewart’s line from K-Mart.  (Yes, this was a looooong time ago.)  I remember driving to meet a friend and sliding that glass into the cupholder of my Oldsmobile Alero and feeling very… something.  Chic?  Probably not – it was a glass from K-Mart in an Oldsmobile.  But maybe it was chic – or together – something that eludes me now.

The cultural start of fall was accompanied by cooler weather today.  Not freezing cold to kill dead the mosquitos that I HATE.  But that is too much to ask of September.  But a fall chill-ish in the air.  Fall always makes me feel relieved.  And it always makes me want to be more “together”.  I will be chopping off my hair soon and pretending I like to and am able to cook.

I have a closet to clean out and a ton of work and e-mails to get through – plenty of stuff I could tackle to be more “together”.  But tonight I made a mocktail and went through my scary sewing works-in-progress stack.  I have 28 projects that have been started but not completed.  28.  28!  TWENTY EIGHT!!!  Definitely not chic.  Martha Stewart would demand her fake vintage glass back.

So, like any reasonable twenty-first century girl, I made a spreadsheet.  I identified 17 projects that I can reasonably finish this year – one a week.  My criteria was ridiculously old (a baby quilt top I finished three years ago) or ridiculously close to being finished (a wall hanging that has one more side of binding to sew on) or both (my Advent calendar that I have only three more ornaments to make!)


This is the nice neat stack of quilting work I will get done this year.


When I have a lot of time to sew, I often choke.  This weekend I had two glorious days all to myself to sew.  And I. wasted. time.  But yesterday I hunkered down and finished this quilt commemorating our vacations to Colorado.  It was well-liked on Instagram.  I am not sure.  It is overly cheerful – but it will make a happy car/travel quilt.  I need to iron and send off to the quilter and that will be one of 17 done.


Also, germaine to nothing except my squirrel-like focus for sewing projects.  Here are some cute little baby bibs I made for the cutest boy.  I got a snap setter in order to finish these off.  Is there anything better than a snap setter?  Probably not.  Except of course of the memory of Martha Stewart’s line for K-Mart.


Ok, well now all I really want to do is make baby bibs.  Sigh.