Chapstick Weather.

I did it.  I took pictures of Fall.  I'm a cliche, but it's beautiful, man.

I blame the gray sky that makes the leaves look magnificant.

And I did it while thinking about apple cider.  While wondering how yesterday it was 82 and today it's 46.  While stepping in dog dookie.

I love fall.

This is the path the little trick-or-treaters will walk stealthily, or happily, or scarily.  Please, only little trick-or-treaters.  Don't be those kids.

Someone needs to rake. 

I'll make him do it. 

Happy Fall, Football, Fireside Frolicking--

Jo

Checks and Balances and Exhales.

I gifted the aforementioned pillow at my good friend's baby shower.  It's hiding in the cuteness of the Dreams bag below).  

This picture was taken at a moment when I was still holding my breath in anticipation.  I mean it's the pillow's -- and the Etsy shop's debut -- hanging in the balance of acceptance.  Nahmean?!

But there was no need.  The thing caused praise and gratitude.

Exhale.

Phase 2, Complete

I think.  Who am I kidding.  (Myself, is that answer...)

Fitting puzzle pieces onto applique, the satisfying sound of separating ironed paper and material, self-massaging shoulders, watching fall succumb to the upcoming cold, focusing on getting through these first 10 -- it's been joy-filled.  A joy-filled mess.

On a side note, the ironing board I'm using wobbles and breaths with each iron exhale of steam.  I covered it with a gray cotton sheet in hopes to not stain it's green upholstery flowers with applique and material glue, pretty much to no avail.  The blessed board is working on it's 8th year in my presence, and at least it's 15th year with the husband.  It was the only piece of furniture in his home, less his mattress and box spring, when we first met.  The board held the old Mac computer we used to watch movies, mason jars filled with wine, or water, coffee mugs in the morning, and often his dress shirts after a long day's work, or prior to a starch spray, pre-school-day ironing session.  

It's a good board.  I take back every time I thought of getting a new one due to the aforementioned wobble.

I think there are five phases of this project I am launching.  And if I think that, I also think I just finished one of the more labor intensive tasks.  And if I think that, I'm not halfway.  And, oh no, emboirdery is next (help).  And also, phase five is the shipping task, so maybe I am getting ahead of myself.  Four phases?  Please purchase.  

Love, Your Public Service Announcer and Creweler,

Jo

Tap Out.

Just kidding. I'll be making the rest. This one's not even for sale.  I've got lots of the work to do.  I'm glad I bought a thimble. 

To many more. 

Stick Pins and Progress

Amidst doubts, Miles Davis records, letting the dog in and out, finishing my final project for the current class I'm taking, and running about the town, material wound up haphazardly layered and pinned.  

 

Sorry I over-filtered this picture.  Peace.

The Story Birds

I love this site, and that's an understatement:  http://storybird.com/

I feel like I discovered the proverbial pot of gold when I found Nidhi Chanani and Pascal Campion's artwork listed.

Drink it in, thirsty souls.

A wee story I wrote for the schooling.

I'm Sewing Analogies

Switching gears, like that clunky chain transition on an old bicycle, seems to be a rusty endeavor for this head.  Cutting material, tutoring, reading for the schooling, writing for the schooling, cutting material--feels like stretching and gaining more muscles, but without the bonus of obtaining a great physique.

I feel like my brain is a forest in seasonal transition hit with crisp sunlight that illuminates a small respite of crimson and ochre foliage, but most of the thick trees are left in the dark.  Those rays elucidate the ensuing fall.  Wait.  Change to autumn.  Upcoming transition to cold, lonely winter.  Wait.  The sunlight shows the transition that leads to New Growth.  There it is.  (Here's hoping.)

Other than offering snuggles and a discerning eye by way of a high-pitched yawn, Truckee is a less than helpful shop apprentice.

Keeping this train a-rollin'.  Here's some images from the workspace.

It's Sketch

I just heard our (glorious and fiery) heater kick on and anticipate the two degree heat increase will act like caffeine to my soul.  Will it ever.  The dog just looked at me and went back to bed.

Here's a fairly ambiguous sketch collage for the creating.  Material, post office stops, ze planning, literacy center, and lots of studying await.  It's a new day.  (I'm trusting this process.)

  

Craft Conspiracies

Time to start the doing part of all these plans.  And a baseball metaphor to help visualize all this internet vulnerability?  I just hit a pop-fly to deep center field, and now I'm running like hell to make it to home.

11/15/14.  32 days and counting to get some serious work done.

Hot Minutes.

My new schedule since last week (which will last maybe two more days): 

stay up until 2 a.m. watching Entourage
wake up around 9 a.m.
wonder why I stayed up until 2 a.m.
tell myself if I lived in L.A. it wouldn't matter
it feels like it matters in suburbia
embroider
think about sending my book to the publisher
school work
walk the dog to a view of the mountains
track a package from Etsy that has no tracking number
read Kurt Vonnegut, anything and all of it
unload the dishwasher
embroider
school work
read recipes I won't actually make
work at the literacy center
are you still reading this?
work out
stay up until 2 a.m. watching Entourage
you get the idea.

I'm walking uphill to establish a purpose.
Maybe the purpose is the climb.

Happy Week of Mid-October, 2014.

Small Pieces of Greatness

I've been feeling disheartened the last few weeks: in myself, in school, in this path I'm making my way on, or through, or down.  It feels like a Lutheran guilt cupcake iced with doubt.  "Being shaken is a part of growing."  "Faith is only solid when questioned."  I keep repeating these types of phrases to myself, attempting to trust the process of growth through tempered cliche-isms.  I spoke with a teacher who is quite good at her job, but conducts the business of teaching in the authoritative "break 'em down and build 'em up," "don't smile 'til Thanksgiving" kind of way.  And I kept thinking while driving around a variety of poverty-stricken to wealthy neighborhoods that people will survive regardless of the education they receive.  But, how can we help them thrive?  Maybe there really are too many unsolvable problems.  I have a lot to learn and a hell of a lot more to practice, but most of all, I need to trust.  I need to be in the moment.

I shared all this with the Husband last night over Monday Night Football, white wine, and some homemade pot pie.  Almost near tears, oven-hot carrots burning my tongue, he embraced my state, saying, mid-smile: "This is what you do, Jo.  This is what gets you to create.  You've got that tortured soul of yours and it will eventually fuel your fire again.  You only need to be you."  Or he said something similar, but probably a little more eloquent...

I'm working on being better, doing Better.  In the meantime, a gift for a good friend's baby shower in progress.  Applique and embroidery.

Carpe Diem.