A Heart Full

Apologies for the silence on Pearl the Squirrel. I took a trip to California to visit my folks and attend a "significant" high school reunion (the first I'd been to in decades). Then home for a week of writing four stories, quick visits with friends, and away again.

Squeezed in amongst the comings and goings and writings was a wedding. Maret and Ian are two of my daughter's friends from college and I've known Maret for more than 10 years—she and Maggie would share rides from Iowa to school and ultimately became college and post-college roommates. She and Ian were wed last night in a church near her small hometown and the ceremony was attended not only by myriad Iowa friends but also a vast contingent of San Francisco buddies, both family friends from Ian's childhood and Maret and Ian's contemporaries (they live in San Francisco now).

As we were pulling up to the wedding I saw Beth, one of my editors at Meredith and the first person to say "yes" when I queried her about freelancing nearly seven years ago. When I told Paul who she was and reminded him of the connection to Maret and Janet (Maret's best friend from childhood and her maid of honor and also Beth's sister—it's complicated) he said "They changed your life." And he was so right. From that first "yes"—an offer to write a profile of Amy Butler for Quilts and More—my writing opportunities have expanded to a full time job, and one I feel so fortunate to have. And the second profile she offered me, and the ones that followed, gave me the confidence to pursue that career. What a reminder that saying "yes," that taking a chance on someone, can change their life. Thank you for that Beth, and thank you Janet for connecting me with your sister, and thank you Maret for connecting me to Janet, and thank you Maggie for connecting me to Maret. These interwoven relationships have given me so much!

On top of that epiphany, I was a little overwhelmed at getting to watch my stunningly beautiful daughter, one of Maret's bridesmaids, walk down the aisle. And it was wonderful to see a number of her college friends, too. Several have babies or are about to, and watching them move into this next phase of life fills my heart—they are such a smart, lovely bunch of folks who will make (or are making) wonderful parents.

Finally, I think I loved being with people who know both Iowa and California. It's not often in my life that that geographic distance is bridged so tidily and there was something so comforting about being on a hilltop above stands of walnut and locust trees and rolling fields of corn, among people from the Bay Area. I am a very lucky woman.

And the winner is...

Thanks so much for all the wonderful comments and the memories you shared. The winner is BBB, chosen by random number selected by my husband.

BBB, send me your address and I'll whisk that book into the mail. Kind of hate to give it up!

(The image above is from the site of Oilcloth by the Yard, an another great oilcloth purveyor. I met owner Anna Marino at Quilt Market a few years ago and loved the stock she carried—fantastic selection. And her daughter, Sage, has a YouTube video on how to make a splat mat with oilcloth—pretty cute.)

If you're a new reader, I  hope you'll come back to Pearl the Squirrel on occasion. And thanks again for taking the time to write. Sorry I couldn't give you all a prize!

Sewing with Oilcloth: A Giveaway!

While researching my story on oilcloth for issue #14 of UPPERCASE, I had help from Anna Marino of Oilcloth by the Yard, Cardie Molina of Oilcloth International, and Kelly McCants of Modern June.  Each of them is very passionate about coated cloth.

Kelly has gone so far as to write a book Sewing with Oilcloth. She graciously sent me a copy to use in my research and I'd like to share it with you. It's full of wonderful projects and tips of the trade. Her website also has a super-useful guide to the differences between and best uses of oilcloth, laminate, and chalk cloth, which was reproduced in the UPPERCASE article.

Leave a comment below for an opportunity to win this book. Tell me something, anything, about oilcloth—an oilcloth memory from childhood, a project you created with oilcloth or laminate, or simply what about it appeals to you. I'll keep comments open until August 7, and announce the winner on August 8.

I look forward to hearing from you!

Oilcloth—A New Story in UPPERCASE

UPPERCASE #14 is out and I've got a story in it about oilcloth. As always, I learned a lot while researching the story.

One of my favorite factoids was that the biggest producer of oilcloth in the mid-20th century was the Columbus Coated Fabric Company in Ohio. When they went out of business, their equipment was sold to companies in Mexico, which is why when I was in Oaxaca I saw stacks and stacks of oilcloth in the markets. Some of the same copper rollers the Columbus Coated Fabric Company used for their most iconic prints—the apples and pears, for example—are still being used to print today's oilcloth. Of course there are lots of new patterns and designs, but I think a lot of what people love are the vintagey, mid-century prints.

While I'm pleased about my article in this issue, there is so much great stuff in UPPERCASE #14 (and in every issue). This time there is a lot on children's book illustrators and children's toys, and great graphics of chevrons, artists' studios, and lots more. Check it out. And in my next post, there will be an oilcloth-related giveaway. Stay tuned!

Brucie

Brucie, me, Susan, and Paula

Today's Etsy post reminded me of an old friend and as I worked on the piece about the AIDS memorial quilt this weekend I thought of him repeatedly.

Brucie was the first person to ask me out in college. We met at a party and he invited me to another. He ended up dating a friend of mine longterm and during that time brought around one of his closest friends and that friend and I ended up getting together. Ultimately I married that guy, and 36 years later we're still together.

Brucie came out some time during our junior or senior years of college. He spent several semesters abroad and I think it was there he felt free enough to acknowledge who he was. At our mostly white college he already stood out and worked hard to keep color lines open, fraternizing with both the largely separate groups of white and black students. Adding "gay" to the mixture undoubtedly complicated his life.

Brucie taught me a lot about politics—I was so naive I didn't know what apartheid was, for example—and he taught me a lot about fun. The man loved to dance, loved to throw back his head and laugh, and  live in the moment. We spent a lot of time talking in British accents about someone named "Pamela," making up stories about her horrendous behavior. Dancing with Brucie in gay bars in Chicago after we'd graduated, in the years before AIDS, was some of the craziest fun I've had in my life.

Brucie was devoted to his family and when his sister had a baby, he was the most proud uncle. His brother went to college across town and my husband got to know him, too. After we'd graduated we stayed with him in DC. Another smart, savvy guy.

But it's Brucie I knew the best, and Brucie I still mourn after nearly 27 years. We hadn't heard a lot from him in the year or two before his death—he'd signed on as a flight attendant and was traveling the world. But I know that were he still around we'd be a part of one another's lives.

The loss of Brucie—his potential, his dance moves, his fake British accent,  his political wonkiness—comes upon me periodically. I try and remember all the good—so much good. His brother died of AIDS a few years after Brucie did and I can't imagine how his parents bore it. I hope they know we've never forgotten their lovely, lovely sons.

The Older, the Better

The Midwestern weather has been abominable, with temps well over 100 and no rain. It was especially bad right around the 4th of July, so we decided to head to the annual Hansen's Grove antique sale early, before it was too miserable. I shared photos of this sale a couple of years ago, and thought I'd do the same today.

I bought only a set of three Pyrex bowls in citrusy colors and Paul beefed up his collection of creamers—those miniature milk containers you used to get with your coffee in restaurants. But mostly we looked.

There were a few things I would loved to have had—the little doll family, in which the tallest was maybe 3 inches. But $60 seemed a bit much, and I constantly remind myself that I don't want to become an adult woman with a house full of dolls.

I also loved this hand-carved head, but again, the price was a bit steep.

And I absolutely loved the fabric I found on the back of an old quilt, but didn't love the quilt itself so much. We decided there is lots of pleasure to be had in just looking. Enjoy!

Sewing in Usual Circumstances

This past weekend proved a turning point for me. I went the entire weekend without the need to take a nap. I even planned to invite people over for dinner. My usual energy level seems to have returned. I'm still on meds, still have the PICC line, but things are moving in the right direction.

Since the people we wanted to have over couldn't come, I decided to take advantage of the evening and sew. It's been a long time since I've had a Saturday evening to stitch and I loved it. A 4th of July sewing date gave me a start on these blocks, but on Saturday I got them all stitched and arranged on the floor--too lazy to put up my portable design wall.

The pattern is Off Track by Cluck, Cluck Sew (loved her booth at Quilt Market), and the fabrics are mostly ones I'd gotten when I had the crazy idea that I'd make the Farmer's Wife quilt—I made about five blocks and realized templates are not me. I added a couple of other fabrics for scale and color—a bit of Lotta Jansdotter and some Heather Ross dogs. I'm making a baby-sized quilt, so only made 20 blocks, rather than the 35 called for for the lap-sized quilt. Next I need to stitch those blocks together, because Pearl continues to gleefully run over my neatly arranged layout and it's a mess. Thank goodness for digital cameras, so that I can remember what it looked like before doggie mayhem ensued. 

Binding in Unusual Circumstances

If you check the foreground of this photo you'll see hair clips holding a strip of fabric, a sure sign that I'm binding a quilt. There's nothing so unusual about that. But if you look at the far right corner you'll note a blood pressure machine. Yup, I was binding my quilt in a hospital bed. I mentioned that I'd been ill while traveling. Once home I decided to check in with my doc, since I didn't feel quite right, and after a lot of tests, etc., I was told I'd be in the hospital for "a few" days. So I gathered up as much stuff as I could think of that needed doing and brought it along—notes to write, knitting, quilt binding. In the end, I stayed three days and the binding was the only thing that got accomplished.

Fortunately I'm now home and recouping quite well. It turns out I had a nasty infection—MRSA—and how and why I got it is a mystery to my docs. Luckily it's one that responds to IV antibiotics so I have a PICC line in place and twice daily I trot down to the basement (renamed "the clinic") to dose myself with the appropriate meds. They figure I'll require about four weeks worth of antibiotics and I just wrapped up the second week. So the end is in sight! 

Denyse Schmidt follow-up

I had the great good fortune to interview Denyse Schmidt in Kansas City during May's Quilt Market. The results appeared on Etsy earlier this month and from the comments it's clear that she's been a source of inspiration to so many. It was also clear when my traveling buddy, Codi, found out I was going to interview her, just how influential she's been to people who might not have thought of themselves as quilters—Codi told me that she'd never been that interested in making a quilt until she saw Denyse's first book.

Denyse said a lot of very thoughtful things during our interview, but one that really struck me was when she bemoaned the loss of home ec sewing classes in school. "If people don't know how to sew, they don't even have a reference point for what they buy and whether it's well-made," she said. So true. I remember my mom spending a lot of time teaching me to line up my stripes and plaids and though I haven't made garments in years, I've always looked for that when I buy clothing.

One of the things Codi said to me about Denyse is that she seems to have stayed true to herself for so many years and that came through loud and clear during our interview. When I asked her about it, Denyse said "There's a divide between art, craft, and design and I've straddled all three. At some point you just have to do what you do and not worry about how it's defined and who's paying attention." Denyse is a prime example of someone whose vision was clear, even when it didn't fit with the norms of "quilting" or "modern quilting" or any defined movement or art form. She admitted that the way she's done things hasn't always been the most profitable. But she noted that she had worked long and hard on her first book and that she's still proud of it. "It had to be something I could live with for a long time," she said. And it's her attitude about quilting, too, that a quilt you'll live with for a long time (think, antique quilts) needn't be stitched quickly, but can be something you put down and return to over weeks or months or even years. A challenging attitude in this "get-it-done-fast-and-check-it-off-the-list" mentality that I so often fall prey to.

Her Royal Majesty

So Pearl the Squirrel has been quiet because I've been away. My husband had work in Ireland and I tagged along, first Belfast, then Dublin, then the west country (Galway, Roundstone, Westport). The Irish people were incredibly friendly, the Irish food (especially the seafood) delicious, and yes, it did pour rain a few days, but we still had a bit of good weather to enjoy the countryside, which was indeed a lush green.

The downside of the trip was that I got sick the very first day and it wasn't until the day before we came home that I felt anything close to myself. That first day I stayed in bed all day long, and the bright spot was that it was the last day of the Queen's Diamond Jubilee festivities, covered minute-by-minute on BBC television. I was totally enthralled with watching the Queen go from activity to activity, in coach and carriage, with her son and daughter-in-law and without her husband (who was in hospital, also sick). I was amazed by her stamina, amused by the announcers who kept trying to attach emotion to her nearly unchanging expression ("She seems to be missing her husband." "She seems touched by the crowd's attentions."), and struck by the fact, watching everyone curtsy and bow to her as she left the church, that we curtsy and bow to no one in the United States. Her citizenry seem to genuinely love her—many slept out overnight to be able to stand and watch her coach pass by them on the Mall or to see her wave from the balcony of Buckingham Palace.

There were myriad souvenirs of the event to be had—I got a lovely bone china mug from friends, so I can honor the Queen with my daily cuppa— but one of the best has to be this limited edition color guide to the Queen's 60 years of perfectly coordinated outfits, created by Pantone and Leo Burnett London. For more information, including an explanation of the meaning behind a few of the Queen's color choices, visit Pantone's blog.)

God Save the Queen!