Last year I learned that the average age of Nobel winner is 67. A year ago that seemed such an optimistic fact. Well, today I am 68. So it goes. No prize for me. We are in San Francisco and coming home tomorrow. We celebrated John's 78th birthday Thursday in northern California. We may not be Nobel winners, but we are keenly aware that every day is big prize. We are so thankful for our health and our mental acuity ***knocking wood***
I'm doing a short demo on bag making at my guild meeting next Sunday. And then I am making a Sloan Bag, one of my favorite patterns, for a friend. She has chosen the feature fabric on the left of the above picture. And then? Back to SewPowerful purses. I only sent in 6 for the October deadline. The next deadline in February. I hope to certainly double and perhaps triple that number.
I'm about to have a 10-year studio anniversary. As my studio was being constructed, my college roommate Dodie was dying. The day of her memorial service in December 2016 was the first day that I was able to shower in the studio bathroom. And I started my blog in January 2017 - those early blog entries were often about Dodie. And almost10 years later? I'm still blogging about her.
Dodie had three children - Mani and twins Paul and Virginia. I watched these three grow. I made quilts for their high school graduations. After Dodie died, Mani and Virginia gave me all of Dodie's flannel nightgowns, and I made quilts for the three grandchildren. Then I made a quilt for Virginia. And then a quilt for Mani. But never for Paul. So this quilt? It's being mailed to Portland, OR, where he lives.
Years ago there was a quilt exhibit in Indianapolis, and Dodie invited me down and suggested we go to it. After being there about 30 minutes, she said she couldn't look at one more quilt because they were making her dizzy and nauseous. This quilt back? It has that effect. I understand exactly what Dodie meant then and thought of her as I was creating this quilt backing.
Grief is a process, and I am still grieving Dodie. That's true of grief. Oddly enough, it's a life-long process.