What it feels like to create

Found this blog late last night, and it has really gotten under my skin--in a very good way. As I've been sewing and embroidering and being intentional about making our house lovelier, I think I've also been getting a little gentler. The crafty-girl blogs I've been reading (especially this one) are so positive and delighted with the world. And I think I used to be more like that. But I've gotten more critical and snarky and sarcastic--it all adds up to a kind of negativity and stinginess that have no place in my prodigiously happy, love-filled life.
So--as the flowers rest under an unseasonable layer of frosty cold, I will put my faith in the inevitable warm-up, and let my spirit set a good example for the plants: I will bloom a little bit. And then I'll bloom a little bit more.
I know this about myself, but something about my inner compulsive procrastinator keeps me from consistently acting on it: when I have an outlet for my creativity, I am happier and somehow clarified. Like butter! I finished a table runner late last night, a project I started on a whim after finally finding a non-Wal Mart fabric source in my town. Our rarely-used table (shameful fact: we almost always eat while watching "Jeopardy!") was set for a while with the loveliest, if fortuitous and accidental, color combination. Orange candles, yellow tulips and daffodils, and a fruit bowl with lemons, Granny Smith apples, and oranges.
Anyway, the only way I ever manage to create something pretty like that is by accident, and accidents like this one don't happen too often to me (I'm not as observant as truly talented artists are). So it stuck with me--orange, yellow and bright green have been on my mind for a month now. And the fabric store had two fabrics--one orange and yellow, one green, white and orange--that I just knew would go far in duplicating that table.
Reader, I bought them.
I promised Husband I would do no such thing after a fairly brutal trip to a store in Columbus, during which I squandered all my birthday capital. (It was worth it!) But this stuff was reasonably cheap and I got out of there with 3 1/2 yards and some thread for only $32. Not bad, compared with the (eek!) $125 I spent in Columbus (double-eek!).
The original plan was to make a runner for one of the many radiator covers we live with--they're in at least one corner of every room in our tiny house, shrinking the furniture-arrangement possibilities. But this turned out so beautiful that it will forever be a centerpiece at our dining table.


p.s. it's reversible! Amy Butler's lotus in cherry--solid. pretty!

Good advice, badly relayed

this will say "happy birthday" to my aunt and be part of the pillow's border

(Having gotten the adolescent disclaimer out of the way, I'll now post something legitimate.)
In an attempt to get myself to use the sewing machine, I have embarked on a project that has a deadline. My aunt is turning 70 this weekend, and my cousins are throwing a surprise party for her. She is the craftiest woman I've ever known, a great and frequent presence at church bazzarres--a fearless seamstress, quilter, jam-maker, project-finder...You get the picture. It was she who advised me on my sewing machine purchase. When I called her for advice, I thought she'd say "Oh, Singer's a good brand" and I'd be off to make a purchase.
That is not what happened. She has devised some very specific and extremely helpful criteria for buying a sewing machine*, and when she shared it with me I knew I was in the right hands. In the end (which came really quickly after the beginning, as I was chomping at the bit to buy a machine), she actually did the research and picked out my machine for me. It is a Husqvarna Emerald 116, and it does not kid around. Or, it doesn't look like it kids around. Haven't we established its current position as loyal dust-collector?
Anyway, I figured my aunt loves me, so she won't mind if the pillow I make for her is an unmitigated disaster. So today I'm embroidering a pretty scene to include in the pillow, and I'm listening to Neutral Milk Hotel, and I'm feeling like I'm on the right track... Will post photos of the process if I can find the camera.

*She said you must listen to the sewing machine. The motor should hum and the needle's action should be smooth rather than clacking. Of course, she would say it better, and she did. But that was several months ago and in the intervening time I've tried to forget I even own a sewing machine (too much lazy-girl guilt). Here's what I will do: pull her aside at her birthday party and ask her to repeat her sewing machine criteria once more. Then I will publish it in my totally unread blog. So that no one can read it. This is weird, like being invisible. But I do think I'll get brave soon and tell people about my new blog.