Herself: Wednesday was a bad IBS day. Not sewing well at all either. Things come in threes, they say. Dinner was delicious at the local coffee shop. Didn’t go to the poets group and stayed home to quilt…..at which point one poet needed a ride. I felt very guilty.
The Cruise Ship Piece: I got to class early only to read last. There were only a few comments then everyone headed off to lunch at light speed. The room seemed to echo. The instructor paused to tell me she thought this piece better than the last as I hadn’t felt the need to tell everything I knew. I consoled myself with the fact that after the quilt, I can overwhelm the class with Nazi art, graphics, and sculpture. Pedantic to all but me. Speaking of Propaganda.
So you take that wonderful, iridescent sage green sweater from the washer, and dry it thinking you can salvage something. You look down in the machine to find all your clothes are a coated in a wall of mild green lint. You wash your shirt and pants a second time…with hope. In the dryer, you find the sweater has devolved into lint. You toss it in the trash and mourn the niceness of it, the loss of it, the color, and dry the shirt and pants twice more…..with hope.
Determined to finish the Red Quilt at last, you bring it out to find darkness. No matter how you look at it, the colors seem to be growing darker with every glance. As you begin taking out seams, to straighten out the worst of the errors, you find more seams that need taking out, that are falling apart in your hand, and more…..it seems endless in its sloppiness and miss connectedness. Finally, you just end up mending everything that’s loose, everything sideways, all the ends, giving up on the dream of a bright sparkling quilt and keeping only a hope of warmth.
Later in the evening, you think of bordering it in a bright, shiny turquoise. This thought seems of offer a glimpse of a solution, of hope and lifts you out of your darkness.