On Graduation

Graduation has been the theme this week as we celebrated the graduation of two of my nieces from high school...

My oldest niece also graduated this past month receiving her Masters in Library Sciences from the University of Wisconsin.  Though we weren't able to travel to Madison, she was able to come home for her sister's graduation.  She's on the right in the picture below hanging with one of her girlhood friends from the neighborhood...



Of my father's ten grandchildren, that's four down and six more to go.

I've been trying hard to remember what I was feeling when I graduated from high school but I have no clue.

It's a shame we had to rent those white gowns and wear mortarboards that messed up our hair...

The ivory dress, fresh flower look is much more becoming.

I was hoping to have my own graduation from Japanese Embroidery in October.

Unfortunately, I lost a whole month of stitching time with my back problem.  My back is better and I'm heading off to Japanese Embroidery class today so I'm grateful for that.  Oh well, it's never too late if you start today.

Looks like my next target date for graduation will be Fall 2016, life permitting.

Why Study Japanese Embroidery??

After you spend many hours on something simple...like transferring embroidery patterns to a stitched foundation...three things begin to happen.

One, you get very, very good at the mechanics of transferring the pattern.

Two, the pattern becomes imprinted on your brain, kind of like a practice-run, so when it comes to stitching the goldwork...you have a good idea where you're heading because you've already been there.  My teacher also has us trace the pattern before we begin...so transferring the pattern is actually the second time you've re-hearsed the pattern.

Which leads me to the third; you have plenty of time to reflect.

Last week, a friend overheard me talking about Japanese embroidery.  She had heard me mention that the actual pieces that I create in Japanese embroidery aren't necessarily what I would "choose" to stitch.

She heard me say that the only reason I was stitching them was because they are required in order to graduate from Japanese embroidery.  I would really prefer to stitch designs that have more personal meaning for me.   And the "graduation" part of Japanese embroidery?  That has never has been a driving factor for me...as evidenced by the fact that I've been on and off Japanese embroidering for over 20 years and still haven't graduated...

"Why then," my friend asks, "do you study Japanese embroidery at all? Do you think you'll keep doing it once you graduate?"

It's a good question and so I answer it here just in case there is someone out there who may decide to study Japanese embroidery even though the projects themselves may not appeal.

So here it goes...

Why I take Japanese Embroidery 

(even though many of the pieces do not speak to my soul and even though a graduation certificate isn't all that important to me either):

1. I am a much better embroiderer because of Japanese embroidery, plain and simple.

There's a method to the structure and discipline that is Japanese Embroidery.  There are ten phases that a student is required to progress through sequentially.  The phases are designed to introduce new techniques and new skills as the student is ready for them.    Repetition, practice and time at the frame are all part of becoming a better embroiderer.  This skill building approach is very different from the project-based approach that is so common in American workshops and classes.  

I have a practice of Japanese embroidery just as I have a yoga practice or a swimming practice or a meditation practice.  All require me to show up regularly and work.  Going to Japanese embroidery class for me is like having a trainer.  It pushes me to go places I wouldn't go on my own and it helps me  refine my technique so that my work becomes more masterful.    In Japanese embroidery it's called Nui-do...Nui meaning embroidery and do meaning way or path through skill acquisition.

A few years ago, blogging needle friend Sheila Iskin recommended I read a book called Mastery:  The Keys to Success and Long-Term Fulfillment by George Leonard.   Since then I have read it and re-read it and can recommend it without reservation.



When he wrote it, George Leonard had been teaching the Japanese martial art of Aikido for over 35 years.  In this short but powerful book, he prescribes a guide for anyone wishing to attain mastery in any area of life.

His approach is brilliant and draws heavily on Japanese thinking.  In his years of teaching, he has found that the most talented students are not necessarily the best students.  In fact, it's often the most talented that have the greatest difficulty staying with a discipline long enough to attain mastery.

It's often those individuals who embrace hard work, who show up regularly, and who keep showing up over long stretches even when they may not be making any remarkable progress.  Leonard calls these times of stagnation, plateaus...and he finds that it is on those plateaus that real masters are made.

Masters learn to love the plateaus.  Find a master of any game and you'll likely find a master of practice.

2.  My teacher is exceptional.  

When I moved back from Japan over 25 years ago, I wanted to continue my Japanese embroidery practice.  Lucky for me, I live thirty minutes from Tonie Evans, a certified Japanese embroidery teacher and outstanding mentor.  As I got married, had a child, and built a career...Tonie was always there for me whenever I returned to my practice.  One of Leonard's keys to mastery is instruction and I hit the jackpot when it comes to that. 

Not since my mother died have I found a person willing to give me honest feedback and who has my best interest at heart.    My teacher wants me to succeed, she wants me to master embroidery and she is there to help guide me.   Often Tonie will mention with a sense of pride, that many of her students are better stitchers than she herself.  I'm not so sure if that's true but it demonstrates Tonie's unflinching belief in her students' work.

How many places can we go to get honest feedback about our embroidery today?  Feedback is priceless for it helps us to refine and grow...to become our better selves.

Just this past week, Tonie was evaluating the curlicues I've been stitching in goldwork.  There are many of these little guys and they require a good deal of effort to keep a nice open curve when couching the gold.  Tonie praised me for the roundness of my shapes, but then told me to try to keep my couching stitches more evenly spaced.



As you round a curve, couching stitches need to be closer together...but it will look better if the spacing is consistent from shape to shape.  

There it is.  The feedback I need to do better.

3.  My fellow students and practitioners of Japanese embroidery are some of the most experienced, talented and wise stitchers I know.

If you adopt the practice of Japanese embroidery, you will be a better stitcher.

Many of the students that continue to come to Tonie's studio for classes are exceptional embroiderers who have adopted the lifelong learning approach to Japanese embroidery.  Their wisdom and humility are constant sources of inspiration to me.  Many of these women have achieved levels of mastery themselves yet they still consider themselves students.  That's a lesson in and of itself.  

Once you complete ten phases of Japanese embroidery, you are able to take advanced classes at the Japanese Embroidery Center of Atlanta.  Being able to attend the Center as an advanced student will only broaden the group of experts from whom I get to study.  This is my true reason for wanting to graduate...so I can further expand and deepen my practice.

I do not study Japanese embroidery in order to finish the pieces and hang them on my wall.  The Japanese embroidery projects upon which I stitch are a means to an end.  They are my practice pieces; my workout spaces.  

They give me greater insight into my own strengths and weaknesses and help to inform my life as an embroiderer.

I hope my honest answer to why I study might give some a few reasons to consider the study of Japanese Embroidery.   All of these needlework traditions are at risk if there aren't new students to take them up.

If you'd like to give Japanese Embroidery a try, Tonie teaches here in Maryland but she has students from neighboring states , some coming from as far away as Canada.  You can contact Tonie at tejapaneseembroidery (at) gmail (dot) com for more information.

The Japanese Embroidery Center in Atlanta is another place to learn and they can put you in contact with teachers from all over the world.

Happy Weekend!

Failing Better

I had expected that this blog would have posted two days ago and would be a tale of eight leaves.  But after two days of work, it's a tale of four leaves.

In planning my work, I completely underestimated the amount of time it would take to work through the wiring and embroidering of these eight four little leaves...

Fittingly, yesterday the Wall Street Journal published the article, "We Know Why You're Always Late."

According to the article, there are those who are chronically late and who suffer from a little-known concept called the Planning Fallacy, a tendency to consistently underestimate the time a task will take for completion.

Cue the sad face...That's me.

And that sad realization led me to reflect all day on the ideas put forth in the article and the challenge of blogging a creative life.   Frankly, as many of my fellow blogging needle friends already know, it's tough to blog long-term embroidery projects (especially when they take years a long time).  Sure, it's great to have the "TA-DA" post...the finished project in all its glory...but the reality of the creative process is that most days, progress is slow and just plain hard work.

That being said, the up-side of the work is that there are little tiny creative breakthroughs all the time.

When we are not slave to the clock, or a deadline or our own expectations, we are free to play, explore and experiment.  And this, I believe, is where the real work is done.  

Figuring out what you want to stitch is one task, figuring out how you are going to stitch it is quite another.  For me, the stitching of the final product once I've figured out the how, takes the least amount of time.

Most of my time is spent in trial and error and it's where the bulk of my work takes place.  I often gloss over this phase when blogging, failing to share its two-steps forward, three-steps back nature, and I jump directly to the final result e.g. eight finished leaves.

Indulge me and let me use these eight four leaves as an example.   Last time I tried embroidering directly on fabric solvy and I didn't like the result.  This time, I made a sandwich of fabri-solvy and organza so my embroidery had a stabilizer.  I chose organza because I wanted my stabilizer to be as negligible as possible.   

First, I couched wire to the underside of the leaves...

 I couched wire to the underside of the leaves.

That statement is a perfect example of how I usually gloss over the minutiae.  Here's what "I couched wire to the underside of the leaves" really means...

[I tried using two different sizes of wire and decided I like the look of the slightly larger SM size as opposed to the XSM.  I tried couching with a YLI silk 100/3 thread in green and then using one strand of Gloriana brown floss to wrap the stems.  I found that it was too bulky to stitch using those two threads so I decided to couch the stems in the brown floss and skip the green altogether.  Next, I tried different numbers of couching stitches, trying to find the minimal number of couching stitches (which would be faster) while still getting the look I wanted on top.  I decided I liked more because it gives me a straighter vein on the topside.]

Next, I started stitching the leaves.  

[Which really means...I decided on using two strands of Tudor Silk floss.  I stitched one leaf with one strand of Gloriana floss but its twist is looser than the Tudor silk and tends to fuzz out a bit, which I didn't like as much so I ripped it out.  Once I decided on Tudor Silk, I played with different methods for using the variegated thread.  I already had decided against using the fly stitch leaf method in last post so the two left most leaves were stitched by using the modified fishbone.  I started stitching those leaves from top of leaf to bottom, alternating stitches as I went.  Because of the variegated thread, that was giving me the effect where the color changes on the leaf traveled down the leaf evenly on either side.  Next I tried muddling the leaf color by combining my two strands of floss in opposite directions which mean the colors were "pre-mixed" in the needle.  That's the center leaf below and I liked that idea least of all.  Lastly, I tried stitching my leaf using Separated Single Layer (which is the Japanese embroidery term for up one side and down the other leaving a one point open space for the vein).  The effect of this stitch was to have the color variation travel up one side of the leaf and down the other which is shown on the leaf all the way to the right.  This technique ends up showing off more of the vein so I need to make sure I couch my wires more carefully so they line up topside as I move forward.]  

Well, if you're not asleep from reading all that detail, you'll see how iterative and time consuming the process can be.  

Showing the result of four leaves in two days of work doesn't seem like much and gives a false idea of how much actual progress is being made.  In reality, a TON of learning has taken place about types of stitches, about limitations of threads, about sizes of wires, about improved methods, etc.

In many respects, it's the same process that a writer goes through in choosing the right words, the right sentences.  Whole days can go by where an author writes and re-writes the same paragraph over and over until it's just right.  Writing a good book can take years.

And so it is with me. 

I have a story to tell and I am choosing which threads and stitches and materials will best convey all that I have to say.  Sure, there are dozens of ways to make rose leaves, many of them much quicker than the methods I am using.  

But the process of carefully choosing and curating the process becomes part of the story itself.  

In the next few days, I will dissolve these leaves in water, and my technique will likely change again based on the result.

I can get some idea of how it might look from the underside...

Already I can see where some refinement is needed in the wrapping of the stems.

So it goes.  

It's all part of figuring out what to say and how to say it.

While I was working today, I was listening to this podcast thanks to Maria Popova's post today on my absolute favorite daily read, Brain Pickings.

Even though she's a writer, I felt like the words of Dani Shapiro were speaking directly to me...

When writers who are just starting out ask me when it gets easier, my answer is never. It never gets easier. I don’t want to scare them, so I rarely say more than that, but the truth is that, if anything, it gets harder. The writing life isn’t just filled with predictable uncertainties but with the awareness that we are always starting over again. That everything we ever write will be flawed. We may have written one book, or many, but all we know — if we know anything at all — is how to write the book we’re writing. All novels are failures. Perfection itself would be a failure. All we can hope is that we will fail better. That we won’t succumb to fear of the unknown. That we will not fall prey to the easy enchantments of repeating what may have worked in the past. I try to remember that the job — as well as the plight, and the unexpected joy — of the artist is to embrace uncertainty, to be sharpened and honed by it. To be birthed by it. Each time we come to the end of a piece of work, we have failed as we have leapt — spectacularly, brazenly — into the unknown.

Here's to failing better tomorrow.

Happy brazen leaping everyone!

On Looking

At the Kimono exhibit in New York City, after I had spent hours absorbing and photographing the works on display, I realized that I had lost track of my husband Jim.

I found him here...



Completely absorbed in I knew not what.

Not wanting to interrupt his meditation, I paused to take in the sculpture which seemed to focus his attention...



In time, he saw me out of the corner of his eye and turned a somewhat faraway gaze on me.

I sat next to him and asked, "What do you see?"

And he said,

"I've been watching this fountain for about an hour.  Of all the people that have walked by this sculpture, less than 50% have bent down to look below the screen.

Of those that bent down, only 1 in 10 have stopped to read the placard on the wall."



"And of those who have read its description, only 3 of them have sat here and checked it out.  I'm one of the three."

I realized I was in the category of walking by without even seeing it.   After all, it wasn't a textile, it wasn't embroidered...I had dismissed it as merely "setting the stage" for the exhibit.

"It's a fountain, and for the life of me I haven't been able to see the water flowing over the edge of the rock, yet it is.  I've been sitting here trying to see the water move and I cannot.  It's really quite brilliant."



I sat beside him, trying to see the water move.  I got up and moved closer.  I squatted down...but no.  I couldn't see the water move either...but it was.  There was a constant flow that wet the top and sides of the sculpture without once rippling or bubbling or breaking surface tension.  It really was brilliant and I hadn't even seen it.

I was reminded of something that author Alexandra Horowitz had written...

Right now, you are missing the vast majority of what is happening around you.  You are missing the events unfolding in your body, in the distance, and right in front of you. 

By marshaling your attention to these words, helpfully framed in a distinct border of white, you are ignoring an unthinkably large amount of information that continues to bombard all of your senses:  the hum of the fluorescent lights, the ambient noise in a large room, the places your chair presses against your legs or back, your tongue touching the roof of your mouth, the tension you are holding in your shoulders or jaw, the map of the cool and warm places on your body, the constant hum of traffic or a distant lawn-mower, the blurred view of your own shoulders and torso in your peripheral vision, a chirp of a bug or whine of a kitchen appliance.

It's from her book titled,  On Looking: Eleven Walks with Expert Eyes, in which the author writes of eleven different walks in New York City, most of them through her neighborhood, with eleven different companions.  First, she walks by herself and notes everything she sees.  Then she goes with her toddler, a geologist, an artist, her dog...you get the idea...and records her discoveries as her "familiar" surroundings are new again when seen through the senses of her companions.  I thoroughly enjoyed the read and found myself wanting to take a walk with Sidney Horenstein, a geologist who works for the Natural History Museum and gives geological tours through Central Park.

I came close to that experience a couple of years ago when fellow crazy quilter and blogging friend Betty Pillsbury came to visit.  Betty drove eight hours to Maryland from the Catskill mountains of Vermont.  By the time she arrived, her body was cramped from the car and needed to move so  I took her for a walk on the Grist Mill Trail along the Patapsco River where I walk many times per week.



Once we crossed over the bridge, Betty started pointing out all of the botanical names and uses for many of the plants along the trail.   Not only is Betty a talented quilter and embroiderer, she's also an herbalist.

Her knowledge of botany completely transformed the surroundings I thought I knew so well.  To this day, I smile and think of Betty when I see the Jack-in-the-Pulpits bloom in the Spring or when I spy the Mullein leaves which I now know to be nature's best wipe when you're in the woods and haven't got toilet paper!



Yesterday Jim and I went on that same walk which for us has grown fairly routine.  After walking in silence for some time my thoughts returned to Betty and how the walk was so different for me once I saw it through her eyes.  My wandering thoughts led me to my closest companion, so I asked of Jim...

"What do you see?"

"See that bit of the river, right there?" he said, pointing to an area where the water was running quickly around the rocks, "I thought that would be a perfect spot to show to a group of students.  It's an eddy current.  See how the water flows really fast on either side of that rock but there is a pool of water that stagnates and kind of swirls back around upstream?  That's an eddy.  Once you understand an eddy current you can much better understand heat transfer and using a fluid to cool a surface..."

And he went on to talk of thermal dynamics as we walked along the river holding hands and contemplating the efficiency of various surfaces for cooling fluids such as air.

What a rich world we live in if only we would could see it all.

What do you see?  Even more importantly, what don't you see?

P.S.  It turns out that the sculptor of the fountain above was Isamu Nogichi (1904-1988),  a well-known Japanese-American artist and landscape architect who has his own museum in Long Island, NY and whose sculpture I've passed many times on the Associated Press building at 50 Rockefeller center. He had a fascinating life that included a volunteer stay as an artist in a Japanese internment camp during WWII.  He was almost imprisoned for treason but the intercession of the Civil Liberties Union saved him.

Starting Again

Where to begin?

It's a new year so I already feel thirteen days behind.

In 2014 I was a sporadic blogger, missing the flow, the partnership and the clarity that comes from regularly showing up here.  Sometimes you don't really understand what you gain from a habit until you fall out of the routine.  Who knew?  Absence makes the heart grow fonder...even when it comes to my blog!

After seven years,  I've come to love my relationship with my blog. And I must admit that I have quite a soft spot in my heart for all of my needle friends who show up here to share in my life, loves and creative efforts.  So, let me just say, I have missed you.

So, where to begin?  I can't possibly fill you in on all that's transpired in the past couple of months...that blows my mind just trying...just know that all is well.

All is well.  

Isn't that a beautiful saying?  So grateful that I can say that and hope that you can say the same.

In thinking of where to start and what to post today, I remembered the wisdom from one of my favorite books of all time, Improv Wisdom by Patricia Ryan Madson...



She writes of thirteen maxims starting with:

1. Say Yes 2. Don't Prepare  3.  Just Show Up.  And...

4. Start Anywhere.  

I've almost memorized them all, I think of them so often.  I've blogged about the book before, remember the day when I tried saying "Yes" all day to Jack??

Here's what she says about maxim four ...

There's no need to find the right starting place.  With a big task or a confusing problem, when you don't know where to start, begin with the most obvious thing, whatever is in front of you.  The notion that there is such a thing as a proper beginning, and the search to find that ideal starting place, robs us of time.  We distance ourselves from the task, and the vision of what it will take to do it makes tackling the job seem mountainous.  Once a job is under way you have a new and more realistic perspective. You are inside the problem while looking at it, rather than standing safely at the perimeter.  The Start Anywhere rule is liberating.  It means that you can begin to make progress on some dream or dreaded task at any time.

How often I have robbed myself of time by thinking I needed to have all my ducks in a row before I could begin a project.

So let me begin as Ms. Madson suggests...with what's in front of me.

A couple of embroidery examples from the Golden Globes last Sunday night.

When Sienna Miller crossed the stage to present, she was wearing this dress...

As she walked, the light danced over the beading and embroidery and made me sigh with delight.  Her dress dazzled; and though I can't say I cared for the missing middle of her bodice, I thought the embellishment on the cloth was lovely.  Not too much...and just right.



The second dress that caught my eye was this piece by Chanel that a pregnant Keira Knightley wore...

It left me searching online trying to find close-ups.  Was it hand-painted?  Was it embroidered?

Though I didn't care for the ruffles top and bottom...I found the feathers and butterflies delightful.

The search for more...led me to this video...which I hope you will enjoy as much as I did.

It was produced for Chanel's eleventh Métiers d'Art show held in Salzburg, Austria this past December.  The event celebrates the fine craftsmanship that its artisans bring to the Chanel collections.  I think you'll recognize these butterflies at the very end...



Happy New Year everyone.   Let us get to know each other once again and go on wonderful adventures in 2015.

The Blue Butterfly

A few weeks after my mother died, I received a card in the mail from one of her friends, Nancy.

Nancy wrote how her mother Anna shared my mom's love of the color blue and how her mother was close to butterflies.   After her own mother's passing, Nancy found great comfort when she would see a butterfly and could feel her mother's goodness and blessings in those moments.

Inside the note she had tucked a handkerchief of her mother's.  It was embroidered with a blue butterfly, intended to wipe my tears and to remind me that there would be many times in my life that I would, once again, feel my mother's grace.

I kept it out for a long time until one day it seemed time to put it away in a treasure box for safekeeping.  And it stayed there, out-of-sight, out-of-mind...

Until two years ago.

On Labor Day in 2012, I was vacationing at the beach with my family when I had a seizure.

It happened early in the morning while I was getting a drink of water.  I had never had one before and the men were all asleep when Jim heard me hit the bathroom floor.  I'm pretty sure I frightened the heck out of Jim, Jack and my Dad that morning...what a way to wake up!  They did what any right-minded men would do...and got me to the closest regional urgent care center.

Jim stayed with me for hours while I was evaluated and slept.   I was dreadfully tired and felt like my brain had run a marathon.  After four hours of observation and tests, they found nothing immediately wrong and discharged me, instructing me to follow up with my physician when I got home.

It was midday when Jim and I walked back through the waiting room, my arm tucked through his elbow for support.  The waiting area was completely empty except for the sound of our feet crossing the linoleum floor.  

How strange it felt to see an empty emergency room...it's almost an oxymoron: empty emergency room...and it added to the surrealism of my already fuzzy brain.

We stepped slowly toward the automatic door, Jim taking great care with his wife who seemed to be more fragile than he might have thought just 24 hours before.  The door opened for us and we began to walk through but pulled up short when we saw what was on the ground in front of our feet.

There on the sidewalk, smack dab in the middle of our path was a black and blue butterfly. 

Quite still and gently pulsing its wings, it seemed to be waiting for us.  

We might have stepped on it if we'd been moving at our normal pace but this day we were walking more slowly to match the cadence of my tired brain.

It was so strange to see a butterfly surrounded by all that concrete and asphalt...so out of place that we did nothing but pause and take it all in.   "Wow." Jim said.

Like a sunbeam, it warmed us and its beauty and glory were part of our world.  

It wasn't frightened by our presence and sat long enough for the event to be remarkable in our memory.

Then it started to flit about like a flower on the wind, dancing around and around the two of us and kissing me on the shoulder before it flew away. We watched it go until it was no more.

When we finally turned to look at one another, a knowing passed between us.  It was her.  My mother.  Come to tell us everything was alright.  

The butterfly displayed her favorite shade of blue and the visit was too extraordinary to be anything different.  

I never told anyone until today.  I thought no one would believe it...and I'm not sure we would have believed it either had we not been there together.   

When I got home, I looked up what type of butterfly it had been, not recognizing it as one that I had seen very often.  

Papilio Troilus...

The Spicebush Swallowtail...

As time went on, I put that story away too, until my BNF (blogging needle friend), Gerry Krueger, asked me to embroider a butterfly for her.

See, Gerry is heading to the International Quilt Festival in Houston where her quilt, It's a Man's World Unless Women Vote!, is a finalist in the 2014 IQA fall judged show, Quilts: A World of Beauty. Woot!! Woot!!

I had the honor of watching Gerry's quilt come to life on her blog, Older Rose over the course of the past year or so and it is a brilliant piece of work.



As is Gerry!

She's a naturalist, a bird lover, quilter, a teacher, a humorist, a dog lover, an embroiderer, and a conservationist and the list goes on and on!

This woman who has a rich and accomplished history herself created a quilt to honor all the suffragettes who fought for our right to vote.



And she is headed to Houston in a few weeks to see her quilt hang in a juried show.  It's a big event for anyone but for Gerry it's monumental.  And for me too. 

Because she's taking me with her!

Gerry is making a Vest of Resplendence, a Coat of Many Colors, a garment worthy of a grand occasion...and she's piecing it and embroidering it with all the motifs that are important to her...and that is where I fit in.  

I will not be in her suitcase but I will be there in the spirit of this blue butterfly who will light on her vest.  And I will see her quilt hanging there and I will dance when she dances and bring all the beauty and glory to the moment that only this spicy swallowtail can bring.

And she will be glorious.  

Not just because of her quilt or her garment, although they're pretty glorious.  

But because of all the women who made it possible...all those who suffered and fought and cried and fought some more...and all the women who honor them...and all the women who bring us to this moment...our prededessors,  the pioneers, our mothers...They will all be there.

As will my mother, my mother's friend Nancy and her mother Anna...the women who helped me make a blue butterfly, a Spicebush Swallowtail, to dance for Gerry and her quilt.

Bravo Gerry!!

P.S.  As for the seizure thing, I'm fine.  Evidently, there's a 1 in 10 chance that a person will have one seizure in their lifetime.  I've had mine.

Leaving Home and Coming Back

At last. 

I have come home again to my blog.  Time to clear out the cobwebs, dust off the keyboard and re-engage with my online life.

As with any break from routine, there is lots to catch up on so I won't waste any more time.

The biggest event for this Mom of One was sending my only off to college.

On Labor Day weekend, Jim and I drove the 6.5 hours to Boston to drop Jack off at Northeastern University where he has begun studies in their College of Computers and Information Sciences...

The drop off itself took minutes really.

The school provides these big moving carts designed to hold all your life's necessities...

It was a busy weekend in Boston with many apartment turnovers occurring on September 1 but there was little traffic getting to the University and getting parked.  Honestly, it took about 20 minutes total.

His dorm room is long and narrow.  It's a good thing that their beds are lofted because they wouldn't fit otherwise.  

He is lucky to be on a corner so he has three windows and a nice view of the street below...

There are two metro stops on his campus which makes getting around Boston a piece of cake.  And the Museum of Fine Arts is directly across from his college and two blocks away from his dorm.

We've already taken advantage of that blessing quite a bit.

After running to Target for a few extras, Jim snapped a quick pic to mark the moment...

And then he was gone...

Jim and I left Boston to travel the two hours to spend the rest of the weekend in Brattleboro, Vermont.  A wonderful trip full of fabric and good food!

There's a very special person I like to visit when I go to Brattleboro.

Along the way,  we found ourselves on Route 111 for a stretch and I took that as a good sign.  One-Eleven has been a very special number for me and my family since my Mom passed away in 2008.

As for Jim and I...

It's back to long walks, dinner for two, movie nights and anything else that strikes our fancy.  We recognize this place and we like it.  A little older, a little out of practice, but beautiful just the same.

We haven't heard much from Jack.  He wasn't a big talker while he was living here and now that he's not...well...

It's quiet.  

I'm thinking we might find out how his first year of college was in about 10 years.  

Hey, anything we hear before then is a bonus!

As for me, I have lots to get caught up on...

I'm finishing up my Japanese Embroidery piece, Eternal Grace...

And Mrs. Rose wants to tell you her story in the next few weeks...she's been far too patient!

Scotland makes its vote for Independence on Thursday which makes me want to finish processing my pictures and book from last year...

And I have many photos and stories to share from our Summer while I was taking a break from technology.  

Looking forward to catching up with all of you and our needle community.  It's good to be back.

Jack's High School Graduation

It was a beautiful Sunday morning.

The Korean dogwoods were blooming, it was seventy-five degrees and the green grounds and blue skies were the perfect backdrop for Jack's graduation.

The boys wore white tuxes and lined up in front of the school to proceed around to "The Hollow" where graduation would take place.

Thanks to the beautiful day, the graduation could be held outside.  You can just see the blue chairs off on the back, right side of this picture where the boys would sit facing the crowd.

And see that lady dead-center holding the camera?  Turns out that's my friend and our dental hygienist.  She lives right across from the school and, unbeknownst to me, she showed up to take pictures of Jack.

Thanks to her these two pics showed up in my inbox yesterday...

She says she has a better chance of getting the boys to smile since she's not their mother so they won't roll their eyes...

Truer words were never spoken.

Jim's mother traveled from Texas with Jim's brother/Jack's godfather to attend...

Here's a pic of Jack with both his godparents...my sister, Sheila and his Uncle George...

Uncle George is just to the right of Jack but refuses to have his picture taken so you'll have to use your imagination.  

It was a special moment for our family since both my father and brother had attended the same high school.  And my father...had graduated exactly sixty years ago in the very same Hollow.

See the ring on Jack's right hand?  That was my father's ring when he graduated in 1954.

And that ring wasn't just any old high school ring.  

It happened to be the first sign of a commitment between my Mom and Dad.  

She wore his ring and he wore hers.  

Most of the time she wore it on a chain around her neck but in the pic on the left below, she's wearing it on her left ring finger.

And my Dad wore my Mom's high school ring on his left pinky.  Their first date was the Easter Monday dance at Loyola High School and the rest is history.

When Dad gave Jack the ring, he hoped that someday Jack might share it with the girl he would marry.  Jack hasn't yet found that girl but I think I understand what my Dad meant.

To a couple that married young and had little money, there was no engagement ring.  In fact my Dad didn't buy my Mom an "engagement" ring until they had been married almost forty years.  For them...those high school rings were it.

And so we pause to take in the significance of the moment.  How life has a way of bringing us back and moving us forward.

And so Jack too had a chance to pause...

Before he passed over one of life's thresholds...

And I'm sure his thoughts were not on his distant future but more on getting out of the sun, getting something to eat, and heading to Senior Week at the beach with his friends.  But someday, he'll stumble upon this post and understand a bit more about the importance of the day for his parents and his family.

Hey, I don't want to downplay the significance.  I think this is the first family portrait we've taken of the three of us in over ten years...

And he sure looks handsome at seventeen and in that white tux...



He'll realize that too when he's my age...or his grandfather's age...



Lucky for him, we did move on to our house to have something to eat and to celebrate.

We catered the party from Chipotle (a fan favorite and highly recommended) and Jim made his famous garlic/barbecue shrimp (another fan favorite)...



And we played...



"Pin the Red Hat on Jack"...

Lately, Jack's red hat has taken a back seat to the black Orioles hat he's been wearing.  

Red Sox territory is looming large on the horizon and he wants to firmly establish his Baltimore loyalty...

Rest in peace, Red Hat.  You were with us for a long time.

Jack's cousins have been great in sharing the joy...

They took this picture last September so that it could be put onto his page in the yearbook...

And our friends across the street gave Jack 20 dozen plus 14 cookies to take on his trip to the beach with his eight friends...

Yes.  Twenty DOZEN plus FOURTEEN.  That's 254 cookies!   It must have taken all weekend to make that many.

And here's the motley crew who would be eating them...

And so a chapter closes.

Thank goodness for this handkerchief that showed up in the mail.  It was sent by Sheila, my blogging friend.  She's sent special gifts before (remember Mr. Miller's stickpin that became a butterfly?)

She remembered my bead journal with the nest and one egg.  And she considered that a girl just might need a hanky to tuck away.

It has a beautifully appliqued "G"...for Graduation...Good luck...Good Grief...Geewhilikers...Goodness Gracious...her list made me laugh.

How about Go, Jack, Go.  Get going.  Gut up, Mom.

Thank you Sheila.  I will use it and think of new "G" words to represent my feelings.  

I love this blog and the friends I've made through it.  

Thanks for sharing my milestones.

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[Outtakes]

Good friends...

Goofy girls... 

Galling...

Gaining ground!