Sew Distracted

This is the End

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end
Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I'll never look into your eyes...again
Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free

                                Jim Morrison

 

Actually it is also a new beginning.  I have moved here.  Please come.

More lyrics: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/d/doors/#share

Creepy Crawly

 Am I the only woman in America who feels that the Bazaar cover spread with Jennifer Aniston as Barbra Streisand goes beyond bizarre? I'd much rather have had the newsstand cover.  I had to cut this one off before I could bear to look inside.

Today is my Birthday

 Happy 52nd Birthday to Me!  

G got me a pretty new bauble.  Actually he got it a while ago, and I knew about it, because he doesn't drive and can no longer manage his money without help.  But still, it was his choice and his intention, and I merely acted as both facilitator and recipient..... probably tricky ground that.  But life is what it is and we make the best of it.

I am in the sewing room today.  Not entirely sewing, as we had a rather fraught and frazzled week.  I find myself squeezed for time between the parting of last week's guests and the arrival of the new crop on Wednesday. But there will be progress on creative pursuits, not merely necessary tasks. 

Once upon a time it seemed to be so easy to say something self-centered like "it is my birthday and I want to sew all day".  And it would be so.    But I have only recently come to accept that my life now doesn't work this way.  It isn't that I don't want the time; but by focusing on my want, I set myself up for frustration and it is not a pretty sight.  It isn't that G doesn't want me to pursue my own interests, but that the thought "Mardel sewing" gets stuck in his brain like a broken record, actually causing him to focus more on me than if I just seize those quite moments for myself whenever they occur.  I never asked to be a caregiver, I suppose few of us do, but fighting it only causes more grief.  G's memory and hold on the progression of time is highly variable; sometimes good, sometimes caught in an endless cycle of confusion where he doesn't remember what happened a few minutes ago, a few days ago, or if it has happened at all -- the thought is all that exists, in the moment, at that moment, to the exclusion of all else, past, present or future.  

And so my goal for this, my 53rd year, is to learn to better appreciate the small moments and make use of them, to let creativity flow when the moment occurs rather than thinking I must set aside a time and a place.  Already I am seeing progress rather than frustration.  

A trip to New York

Yesterday I managed to head down to NYC to meet fabulous blogger Belette Rouge at Café Sabarsky for coffee and conversation.  We had such a lovely time that we were both reluctant to part when the time came to head our separate ways, and we walked down Fifth Avenue delaying the inevitable.

 

I noticed that I was merely a block or so from the Metropolitan Museum and I considered (briefly) going in to see the new exhibit at the Costume Institute, which I do want to see.

 

But I had more important plans.

 

This was my first trip to the city since my November Sewing weekend, and it was the first time I had been in the Upper East Side for several years as it seems my last few trips have been to meet friends in the Garment district or go directly to Lincoln Center and head home. 

 

I love the Upper East Side.  And I miss shopping.  I miss shopping with intent to buy, although I did a little of that last week, I miss shopping as education, also called snoop shopping.  And I miss just plain old fashioned-window shopping and walking down the street letting impressions filter in and pile up without stopping to deconstruct ideas and details. 

 

I opted for the latter, and walked down Madison avenue at a leisurely pace, making my way down from 86^th street to Grand Central, taking in the windows and my fellow pedestrians.  I saw many things that gave me ideas for sewing, knitting, or just dressing in general.  I did not take any photos because once I started looking at details I would start to focus on them to the exclusion of all else and I would lose the haze of creativity I was seeking.

 

I almost broke down and started actual detail-oriented observation.  But I managed to extricate myself from the maw of temptation.

 

It happened like this:  By the time I got to Barney’s I was getting rather desperate for a bathroom break.  My intention was to go the lower level ladies room so as to avoid temptation as much as possible.  But I faltered.  I looked at the jewelry display cases and took a quick tour of the ground floor.  I was underwhelmed.  In fact I noted how some pieces, which look stunning when photographed on the website, looked somehow LESS in person.  This was a good reminder, and something I had begun to forget as I had been shut away in virtual-shopping-land.

 

Then, after taking care of business, reapplying my lipstick and generally fretting over my hair and how much I looked like a suburban matron compared to the chic women sharing the mirror, I decided that it could not hurt to go upstairs and take a quick turn around the floor.

 

It was on the designer floors that I remembered why I love shopping, and particularly why I love designer boutiques and stores.  Granted some (many) things are overpriced for what you get, but not everything.  I looked at gorgeous clothes made of exquisite fabrics, or employing meticulous construction with interesting techniques.  At times fabulous construction met fabulous fabric and I was ready to swoon.    I learned a few things, although I will not mention specific brands except to say that I studied my first actual Dries Van Noten garments and they are gorgeous and far more luxurious than they appear on line.  They are also colorful but controlled.  I like that.

 

But on to my observations, such as they are.  I reaffirmed that yes, I am a snob.  But I am not a snob about labels.  And I am not a snob about expensive things just for their own sake.  And I am not really a snob about the choices other people make with their lives. But I do love beautiful fabric and fabulous design and exquisite construction and details.  There were plenty of examples of all these things on the Barneys floor (there were also plenty of examples of over-priced crap, but that is another story).  As I was looking at garments, and studying construction details, turning clothes inside out, that old demon started to rear his ugly head – you know the one (although I hope you are not prey to his wily ways) – the “I want” demon.  I don’t mean just I want as in I want to buy, although I’d love to be able to do that, but as in I want to learn, to make, to create, to be able to master something like this….

 

I started to obsess.

 

And that is when I knew I had to leave.  I was starting to regret my J Crew tee shirt, which is perfect for my everyday life.  I was thinking about how the denim in my Gap jeans is not as nice quality wise as the denim in my Current/Elliot or Joe’s Jeans, even though they were a fraction of the price.  I was thinking that the new coat I bought the day before wasn’t so hot after all, even though I love it and knew perfectly well it was not the pinnacle of quality.  I bought it because for the “look” because I could use it and wear it, it fit my life, and it was great quality for the price. I wanted to run down to B&J and buy new fabric even though I have more than enough.

 

I had to leave because I knew that buying (or making) the most beautiful garments will not change the life I lead. Yes, my expedition to Barneys’ reminded me that there really is a difference between $150.00 a yard wool crepe and the $20.00 a yard variety.  My trip reminded me that mastery of cut is important, that there is a reason that some apparently simple things look gorgeous on, and others look like a sack.  If I stayed in Barney’s I would be consumed by obsession.   I felt like I was eating myself alive; this side of me that can pursue the beautiful to the exclusion of all else, this part of me that I do not want to be dominant in my life, was overwhelming.  I have made choices in my life, choices to contain this particular aspect of my personality, and I felt it slipping out, worming its way through the chinks in my personal armor.

 

This was not my goal. It was time to leave.

 

I exited the premises, stopped and caught a few deep breaths and continued on my way.  I stopped in no other stores, not even Walter Steiger, designer of my favorite shoes (next to Manolos), although I did cut over to Park Avenue to peer into his windows and also to stop and look in the windows of Cellini as well.  By the time I got to Grand Central my brain was aflutter with ideas and inspirations and I was myself again.

 

You know, at times I am envious of people who are not so affected by the lure of the beautiful, who can see without wanting to possess and control.  It is a weakness.  And yet I also know that this struggle within me is an integral part of the creative process.  Whether we create art, or merely try to dress ourselves neatly, the act of creation is a process of control, of suppressing the parts of life we don’t wish to acknowledge and replacing them with the image we desire.

Where have I been?

Nowhere.  Here.

What have I been doing?

Everything.  Nothing.

Or at least that is how it seems to me.  I've been busy doing many things that all seem to be the perfect things to be doing at the time I am doing them, and yet I have nothing in particular to show for these things.  Not that having something to show is necessarily what life is about.  But still there are blogs, mine to write, others to read:  so much to say and see and do, and still life sits there either being lived or waiting to be lived.  I'm all for the living.

And so I am living it.  And for me that means I am doing a lot of things.  Planning various things that need done, I like schedules and charts and research.  I like lists.  I've been reading and knitting and cooking.  I've been cooking up a storm, making stock and cheese and just cooking the three meals a day that we seem to need to have on the table.  I suppose we always eat, and I always manage to get meals on the table but sometimes I cook more, experiment more, sometimes I just get meals on the table.  I have fun with this.  I can't imagine not doing it, just as I can't imagine not sewing.

Sewing.  That is what this blog is supposed to be about isn't it? Well yes.  And the distractions from sewing, the things sewing distracts me from.  

I've been working with my muslins, working on them a little here and there.  Don't think I have tons of muslins lined up and garments will just roll out, they will, but I'm not there quite yet.  I've been working a little bit but mostly I've just ben absorbing the process, working on things and wrapping my head around what they really mean.  And I have not been subjecting you to the small variations and details that I play with, but the results will eventually be apparent, or at least I hope they will.  They are already starting to show up in my knitting. 

I seem to have needed

 a long time to just flounder about, wondering what I wanted, wondering which shelf or box I had placed put my true "self" in when I got busy taking care of other things that were more important.  When those other things settled themselves down again, I found that I wasn't quite ready to put myself back together, or I was but I didn't remember how to do it.  And somehow I opened the right box and there I was.

Hello self.

I'm comfortable in my skin again.  It is not weight, although I am losing weight and am back at a weight where I feel more  comfortable with myself.  I'm growing my hair out again. I am exercising every day and that takes a big chunk of time. Somehow, amidst all this, I've rediscovered my old sense of style, rediscovered that I do have a sense of style, discovered that I don't have to look for it, struggle over it, fret and ponder.  It is just there.  Where did I lose that knowlede?  

I'm glad to have it back.  It is very calming. 

What I want now is a plan.  

I remember now:  I do love clothes.  But I want the clothes I want to wear.  And I want to sew the things I want to wear, not sew something just to sew something.  Some of the things I want to wear and sew are simple, some are not.  Some of the things I want to wear I will not sew.  That is OK too.  

And the days are just all too short.

A shrink-break

This morning I wanted to take a picture of a shirt I wear pretty frequently.  The fit is ok, although it could be better, and I wear it a great deal with sweaters.  I wanted to add it to the touch closet app, and thought a photo on Matilda would be better than a flat shot.

But alas, Matilda could not fit into the shirt.; it would not reach around her upper chest or her bosom and was therefore not photographable.

This afternoon, my sewing time was spent on a depadding Matilda and fitting her into a new bra.  Not only was this necessary for photography, but if I hope to fit any kind of jacket or blouse I need Matilda to be closer to my actual measurements.  

Here she is, in process (she kindly asked for there to be no embarrassing "before" photos).  The white shirt is another version of  the purple blouse that did not fit this morning.  I included two shots because I was shocked at the first photo, as I see myself more like photo 3.  Photo 4 was taken in a pose comparable to the first photo.

All photos are clickable, as usual, if you want to see the gory details.

While I was working on this it occurred to me that I needed to take a photo for reference next time I get my hair cut because I really love the way the cut turned out this time.  This morning I really made no effort, no blow-drying, just occasional tousling with my hands as it dried, and I really like the look.  Since I had new photos it seemed like time to update my blog photos as well.  This photo is not clickable.  No one needs to see my wrinkles in all their glorious detail.

This is about how I look day to day.  I don't really have the discipline for a polished "do".  

One thing I have noticed, and my hairdresser mentioned it as well, is that my hair has gotten darker over the past few years.  Yes there is more silver and gray, mostly widely scattered strands, for which I am thankful, but that hair which is not gray has gotten darker and more uniform in color.  This of course has meant that I can wear stronger colors than I used to pull off, but it has not been dramatic enough to really change my palette.  

Here is where I need your help:  I got a little carried away with the eyeshadow this morning.  I am out of my favorite eye-tonic, the one that makes my dark circles fade, so I thought to distract the eye with a little more color on the lid whereas I often go for  the "3 shades of invisible" look.  I am torn between thinking it is nice, and thinking it is way too bright.  I like playing with color, but I can't really see what it looks like until after I have my glasses on, and then I don't notice the eyeshadow through the glasses.  The photograph brings out the color really well.  Is it good or is it too much? Opinions welcome.

Goodbye to all that

This last day of 2008 found me sitting on the floor surrounded by stacks and stacks of patterns making some shaky attempts at resorting and re-filing things that have been sitting here waiting patiently for far too long.

The long past due lists of things that needed to be redone, resorted, made and remade are not going to be resolved this year but I was having a blast looking at the patterns, and then letting my eyes wander beyond the piles of inspiration all around me to the fabric in the cubbies and on the shelves.  

The pattern sortie was inspired by the new Threads and the new Vogue Patterns, both of which arrived yesterday.  As I flipped through them my mind began to fill up with ideas and dreams and wishes, and I began also to think about all the projects I have dreamed about in the past, many of which have been posted here.  They are not forgotten.  

The piles of patterns still need to be sorted and filed away.  There are many piles of things that have been waiting for my attentions to wander back to them.  But there must be creative activity along with the sorting and filing and I am looking forward to doing some of each in 2009.

I am not making any sewing resolutions this year.  My record has not been good in the resolution department and I prefer to look forward with acceptance of open eyes.  With the close of 2008 I hope to say goodbye to the frustrations of wanting and try to embrace accepting. It may prove to be a much more rewarding path.

I did finish 2008 with a sewing promise fulfilled, small promise though it was.

In October DH bought an Alpaca Jacket at the NY Sheep and Wool Festival. The price was ridiculously low and it was COLD that day.  We have no regrets and the fabric is warm and snugly although the construction left something to be desired.  The zipper too was sub-par, as it broke on the second or third wearing.

As usual I waited until the last possible minute, ripping out the old plastic separating zipper and threading up the machine on New Year's Eve.  As I threaded my trusty old Elna Carina, I realized that it still had the test fabric under the needle from the last time I had it repaired, early in 2007 when I met Carolyn and Ann in NYC, as I was planning my sewing come-back.  I wondered if I was pushing my luck, expecting the Elna to just start up with nary a stutter as if nearly two years had not passed.  But the Elna has rarely failed me.  And I plowed ahead. 

This year no promises.  No grand plans.  Just determination and acceptance.  I think they will see me far.

Bittersweet

I have actually finished altering the skirt.  It took less than an hour, as anticipated, although that hour was spread out over several days.  As I result I did not update you about progress and accomplishments either simply because the available time came down to doing something, no matter how minute, or writing about it. Doing won.

Saturday was my 50th birthday and it was somewhat bittersweet.  I am not saying the day wasn't lovely, and that I am at all unhappy about turning 50, as I am not.  But just that life is rather complicated at the moment and the complexities of life spilled over somewhat into the birthday celebrations.

There was a wonderful party at my knitting group, which was actually something of a surprise because I totally did not expect it.  There was dinner and dancing and a trip to Bard College to see a Mark Morris production of the original Prokofiev score to Romeo and Juliet (yes it does have a happy ending) and the music was just as lovely but also somehow more discordant than in the piece more frequently performed. There was dinner at our favorite restaurant.

There were gifts:  a new computer from which I am typing now, and which is not completely set up.  I am migrating from PC to Apple and I don't have the data moved over yet,  At the moment the new computer is on my desk and the old computer is running on the cutting table; all the sewing machines are disconnected, at least until I am sure I have everything transferred and running on the new machine, some things with new programs as well.  I love the apple but there is a bit of learning to do. My time remains scattered and piecemeal; unfortunately my mental functioning is often as scattered as my time.

I don't know how to edit photos and haven't gotten a mac version of Photoshop or whatever the equivalent will be.  So there is much to learn.  With the new computer comes an Ipod Touch, which I also haven't set up yet.  And DH, bless his soul, also managed to throw in a special gift, the kind that comes in a blue velvet lined box..

But things still move very slowly around here.  

My hoped for sewing time did not appear except in small bits and snatches, as described above, since it took me three days to get a one-hour job done.  And then I messed it up.  The distractions were constant, my mind somewhat scattered, and I forgot to sew the lining in place when I put the waistband back on the skirt,  I am not going to rip it out again.  I will just turn the lining into a slip.... but obviously there are other things to work on too.

And I haven't even started my coat muslin.

In the meantime, DH, is spiraling more and more deeply into confusion.  We see a neurologist on Friday and I although I don't expect answers that day, I am finding myself needing some kind of answers so that I can know and prepare for whatever may be next.  I dearly hope that the tide of these developments can be stemmed by modern medicine, but I am also preparing myself for the idea that this might not be the case. And although I want, and even need to keep sewing, I do mourn the fact that it may be some time before I am once again able to lose myself in the process of sewing. There will be sewing, but progress may be as scattered and unpredictable as my life right now. 

I am beginning to refer to DH as "the confused one", not really in a bad way, but as a coping mechanism and a way of separating the person who is increasingly unable to do simple tasks by himself, who doesn't understand so many things, who needs to be entertained, who can't follow simple instructions and even conversations, who needs constant help and supervision, from the other person, my beloved DH, so that I don't lose track of the warm, witty, loving, funny, kind person I married.

So while I have been working on the computer, too slowly also, I have also done some more "materials management" about which I will hope to get you updated, as well as some shopping at Gorgeous Fabrics, and some thinking about other alterations, plans, new garments and ways of working with my wardrobe. 

Sewing Time

I've been suffering from Restless Mind Syndrome of late and so the sewing got put on hold for a bit.  Everything  is still on the queue but the schedule has been shifted around. The external bits of my life have been a bit chaotic of late, and although I don't think of myself as being particularly regulated in my interior life, I cannot really settle down into a more creative mindset with too much is out of order.

I realize of course that any kind of creative activity needs to be practiced regularly, and I think that has been my goal. I don't want to run into the sewing room, lock the door, and finish a bunch of stuff in a rush then have to walk away for an extended period of time.  I want to make regular sewing time.  And I have come to accept that I am the kind of person who cannot really shut the door on the external part of my life and ignore it completely.  There has to a certain orderliness to the structure of life so that I can feel free to explore the inner creative instinct.  I am constantly trying to regulate that outer need for structure, with that inner more intuitive bit that my sewing taps into. 

So I am trying to expand the time devoted to creative pursuits.   I am knitting regularly, every day, and have been petty productive, even though some projects have been ripped.  But it wasn't really until the latter half of last week that I began finding daily time in the sewing room and it frankly has not been enough.  Still, the fact that I am there is good, and eventually this slow trickle will expand into a bigger stream.

What I have been doing has not been particularly blog-worthy, however.  I need clothes to wear now.  And so I have been involved in some of the more boring chores that sometimes fall on those of us who can wield a needle and thread, namely mending and alterations.  I have taken in several things that were too large to wear. If I were reconfiguring or refashioning something interesting, like a Chanel Jacket or a beautiful garment, I would share the process. But taking in tees so they don't hang, taking up baggy summer pants and other uninspiring tasks do not make for thrilling reading. And I suppose none of this is creative, but it is practical experience, and it is a joy just to make something work.

Of course there was the day I spent my daily hour cursing under my breath at a stack of J Crew tees that had all come undone where the neck band joins the body of the shirt.  They had not been worn that heavily, it was purely sloppy workmanship, and it really annoyed me.  Each top took less than a minute to serge back together.  But it took substantially longer than that to re-thread the serger with different colors of thread between shirts.  I should have known better.  I have complained about this company's merchandise before so I should have known better.  But I fell in love with certain colors in a flattering style that is long enough that my tummy doesn't show above the tops of my Jeans.

It might be easy to buy tees, but not so easy, apparently, to by perfect tees.  All the more reason to spend more time in that sewing room.

Bright future

Spring colors.  I am knitting with spring colors, although there is still plenty of wool in my plans and plenty of cold weather still hanging around.  But the days are warmer and brighter because the sun is higher in the sky.  I know spring is on its way because the sun has risen past that point where I have to close the blinds in the late afternoon or the house is filled with the blinding glare and reflection of the sun on the Hudson. 

I also know spring is on the way in another sense because everything suddenly looks so much brighter.    I have been worried and preoccupied lately and I have not really felt like sharing, mostly because my thoughts and fears were far to close to my heart.  Call it superstitious perhaps, but I felt that if I voiced my wishes and dreams they might not come true.

But, as I said, Spring is in my step, in more ways than one.  I think it was good that Easter came early this year, because Easter has always been a harbinger of big changes and transitions in my life.  Again call me superstitious but I think Easter was on my side. 

DH was in the hospital last week.  He went in Wednesday for an aortic valve replacement and possible bypass.  I was worried, but not specifically about the surgery, but about many things, and I had hopes, high hopes.  DH has had a hard year since the lung cancer that was caught and removed last spring, and many other health issues in the ensuing months, some more minor, some more major.    He is home now and doing fabulously well after the surgery.

I spent the days in the hospital, but I thought I would sew in the evenings when I was home.  I always forget how exhausting sitting can be.  Those things I attempted to sew are best forgotten now.  It is only fabric after all and there is some fabric that will never be shown on this blog.  There was also a laughable attempt at a muslin, but that at least can be redone.

There are bits and pieces of things in process, and hopefully there will be things to show again soon, not just mistakes to toss into the trash.  I'm not quite there yet but I will be because my heart is lighter now and my ability to focus has also returned.

You see, I knew that the surgeons could fix DH's heart, this is such a common procedure now and the evidence was that this would be pretty straightforward.  But I had been watching my love slip away mentally, no longer paying attention, not seeing things, not following conversations, losing the ability to perform simple tasks.  This was very sad.  And although it is known that heart disease can cause one to be tired. and lose mental acuity, none of his doctors believed that the heart disease was the root of his problems.  They expected chest pain and angina, traditional symptoms, which my DH did not have until very recently, although he had a severely stenotic valve, and extensive disease in two arteries.  But he always did marvelously on stress tests, felt fine when he exercised, had no chest pain, and had no severe arterial blockages.   They all thought the memory issues had to be caused by something else because they see these as "secondary symptoms".  But they found extensive disease over a widespread swath of the affected arteries, just not a thick blockage at a single point.  They found a seriously malfunctioning valve.

And the first thing I noticed is that DH is brighter.  He notices things he hadn't noticed for a long time such as colors and music.  It is as if he could see and hear, but he had stopped registering these things.  We have conversations again.  He remembers what was said.  He cracks jokes.   He reads an article and discusses it.  These are all things I once took for granted.  These are all things I thought I had lost. 

I had hoped that the surgery would bring my DH back to me, at least in part.  I am reveling in finding this person has been returned to me.  And yes, now I know that spring is truly on its way.