Here’s the cover of my little book unless I change my mind (again).
That is all for today. Send me happy graphic design wishes. I’ve got 3 more photo family trees to design today.
We have a little cousin staying with us for a while. He is a great companion for the boys so perhaps they won’t notice that I’m a bit busy today.
Today Mark came up to me as I sat typing at one of two desks I have jammed together with three computer screens to navigate my final steps in the book I am writing and asked with a little trepidation, “What’s your NEXT big project?”
He continued, “I mean, you had your quilt, and now the book. What’s next?”
I wished that I could tell him, NO MORE PROJECTS this month, but I can’t. I just got a new calling at church and it’s going to take some time to get situated. At least I still get to work with the Young Women. But I don’t want to talk about that now.
I took the afternoon off and we all played Scrabble on my bed. This evening, we snuggled and read some more of The Hobbit. It’s taken some time to get back to the way I used to feel with the kids before I sent them to public school. We’re comfortable again, and the school stress is being held at bay by a big dose of denial clothed in the idea that summer isn’t coming to a hasty end. Daniel’s camping in the woods all week, produce from gardens keeps showing up at our house, and the kids are sleeping in.
My “book” is the memoir of my grandmother that I was trying to finish in April. It’s 100 pages and I am finally feeling happy about the writing which I have worked so hard to craft into a readable narrative instead of a choppy collection of disjointed ideas from my notes.
I wrote the introduction this weekend and I began to list all of the people who have worked on different aspects of the project, from scanning photos, collecting genealogical information, saving and writing letters, to collecting keepsakes and documents. This family has been saving memories for over 100 years and I’m attempting to bring it all together. So many hands, a good amount of disappointment, and long hours have been the price to make a tribute to my grandmother and her ancestors.
I worry that it won’t be read and cherished. Writing with my heart has made me feel vulnerable. I want it to be appreciated, but I suppose no one will love it in the same way I do. Perhaps that’s okay, though; my relationship with the story is the gift it gives back to me.
My friend spent 3 hours standing as she tended my quilt while her machine made row after row of roses across the fabric. That’s a nice person.
I realize that quilt posts are probably boring, but lately I’ve got nothing to give to this blog. Life is like that sometimes.
…Church magazines for August arrive before you even open the July magazines.
…last Monday feels like 6 months ago.
…the carpet begins to get dirty from all of the barefoot adventures in the backyard.
Happy day to you!
I have learned a lot from the ladies in my neighborhood quilting group. I have very little quilting experience and I am surrounded by women who can whip out a quilt in an afternoon. There are even some purists in the group who make their quilts entirely by hand. I slink in the door and dine on the scraps of their skill and inspiration.
I read that the “Disappearing Nine-patch” (the pattern of my quilt) is a Novice pattern, which is even easier than a Beginner pattern. With that information to quell my pride in the project, I finished sewing my quilt and I’m having it quilted on a friend’s machine on Thursday. Hooray for me!
We have been on a small family vacation and returned last night to some sad news. Mark’s first grade teacher, Mrs Alice Crankshaw, passed away early in July.
Mark is not upset, but has wondered aloud, “Where do you think she put the present we made for her?”
I am very sad that she is gone; we had hoped that she would be Mark’s second grade teacher. I respect her so much for the way she worked to meet Mark’s needs at school. She called us four or five times throughout the year to talk to me about things she had observed about Mark. This meant a lot to me. She welcomed me to her classroom to teach art and read with her students. I observed that she loved her students; I observed that she was very dedicated and generous.
I will remember her as a blessing in our lives because she made the transition to a new state and public school much easier to bear.
My paint project: I’m whitening up the the basement doors and trim with semi-gloss enamel paint. It’s a bigger project than I expected, but I am loving the results so far.
My quilt project: the squares are complete. I *just* need to assemble them, do a border, select a backing, sew the backing, quilt and bind it. Quilters, do you really find this enjoyable? My mom says that it helps to have a good machine, which I don’t have, and I’m not asking for one. I am not sure I want to be a seamstress. Maybe I will change my mind when I fall in love with my completed Strawberry Shortcake quilt.
Someone said that it’s a good exercise to find out the activities that you can “get lost” doing. You lose track of the time and other thoughts when you are busy doing your special thing. For me, it’s writing and reading, but I also love to develop new skills. I want to be capable and well-read. This is how I will accomplish this today: I get up from the computer, walk downstairs and keep painting. Later, when my arm is tired, I will wash up and maybe sew a row of squares. If I do these things, I will reward myself with a little theology reading. Wish me luck.
Timothy participated in his 4th grade program this week. It was a celebration of Utah, full of songs for voice and recorders, a fantastic choral reading, and he presented a flawless speech. It represented a year’s worth of Utah Studies and music. I loved it.
Mrs Johnson was a wonderful teacher for Timothy. This was her 35th year of teaching. She’s retiring this week and the school won’t be the same without her.
I have inherited my Great Aunt Susan’s wardrobe. It’s classy and smart with whimsical touches. I love fashion, but I don’t buy clothes very often for myself. It’s a real treat to wear her clothing. I wore this to Timothy’s program with a brown and white beaded necklace. I wore heels with the wide-legged pants and pulled my hair into a loose bun. Overdressed for a school program? Yes, but who cares.
We don’t have photographs of Daniel’s orchestra concert this week, but we were so proud of him for playing the solo for Beauty and the Beast on his cello. He did a great job and was a good sport about playing the girls’ choice of music for the finale: Firework by Katy Perry! I wore this outfit. I love the red corduroy peplum jacket with big buttons. The pants are a nice heavy knit, comfortable, but dressy.
And for church today, I wore this outfit. The beads belonged to my Great Grandmother Spencer. The jacket and dress were Susan’s.
This week there are two ballet performances to attend and two fancy outfits to plan. Although it feels a bit silly and indulgent to post photos of outfits, I am sure it won’t be a permanent habit. Oh, but I do love clothes.
Dear Quadruplets,
You are moving away soon and I will miss being your neighbor. I have loved taking care of you. You won’t remember me, but I will always remember you!
Love,
Angela
I got to spend the day with Timothy and four of his friends at This is the Place Heritage Park for a school field trip. Timothy is a good kid, laid-back and fun. These boys were adorable.
I am still not “over” being in Utah. I get so excited about seeing temples and monuments and churches everywhere. I kept waiting for the guides at the park to mention something about religion, but they didn’t. I suppose they aren’t allowed to talk about that with school groups. However, it’s impossible to tell the complete story of the Mormon pioneers without mentioning their faith. The pioneer journey wasn’t just a big trip. They were hunted because of their religion. They were motivated by their faith. They were led by someone with priesthood keys to organize such a trek. My ancestors rode with them. Some of my ancestors walked. They did it because they were being obedient to a prophet.
Despite religion not being mentioned, there was a feeling about the place, similar to the feeling at a national cemetery or memorial. As I looked up the green canyon where the pioneers entered the Salt Lake Valley, I felt it. When the 10-year old boys circled around the statue of Bodil Mortensen from the Willie Handcart Company and discovered that she died at age 10 and was their height, I felt it. As they lined up to pull handcarts, I felt the familiar swell of admiration and respect for the handcart pioneers.
It was a beautiful day, sunny and breezy and the canyon was so green. I bought the boys some candy and let them run. What a sweet day.