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Restingmotion

Normal?

Well, here I am, more or less back to normal. If only I could pin down what that actually meant I'm sure everything would be ducky.

At least I am not coughing much, an occasional anemic piffle comes out of my chest, but I suspect as things go I had a fairly mild case of bronchitis. Nonetheless, I hope my first experience was my last. I was back at the gym this morning and I can't really believe how good it felt to be moving again, how sluggish I had felt during the period of recuperation.

But much as I would like to claim that my renewed sense of ease in my own skin was due to glowing health, it would not be the complete truth. In truth this feeling of being more comfortable in my skin owes more to vanity than to health. In short, it is a hair issue.

In September there was some miscommunication between myself and my hairdresser. My layers had grown too long, it was hot and humid, and, in retrospect, we were each saying exactly what we meant, we were not speaking the same language, and the result was not the one I was looking for. For me, being appalled at my haircut was a relevation, as it was not until I moved to Knoxville and got the style I have (mostly) sported since that I ever really thought of my hair as an integral part of my image of myself. Before that, haircuts were something I got, and I thought of my hair as something with a mind of its own, something outside my control. My new style changed all that, and I saw a more unified version of myself, for the first time how I looked and how I perceived myself to be seemed to show the possibility of alignment.

Until September. The haircut was not bad. It was not that it was short, but rather more the allusions of pixiness that bothered me. My hair was cut in a pixie haircut most of my childhood. It flattered my face and it was cute. There is nothing wrong with cute, but it is not how I vew my 54-year–old self. And herein lay the dilemna. I admit the hair was attractive. I got many compliments, but the hair did not align with the aspects of my shape, style, and personality that I am most comfortable with, and emphasized parts which although no less attractive or even desireable perhaps, were not the parts that I sit easily with my spirit. If I didn't style my hair, just let it do its thing, it would emphasize my height and shoulders in a way that felt distinctly un-feminine and almost butch, especially with the sportier clothes I favor. On the other hand, styling could easily tend toward a kind of round-faced girlish prettiness that, although it is there, does not align smoothly with my view of myself and the way I occupy physical space. It is not that I don't occasionally like feminine, pretty, or even girlish things, or even frivolous fascinators, but that these things aren't part of my prefered mode of being. We all have these views of ourselves, the aspects of our physical, mental, and even emotional selves that we feel comfortable sharing, and the sides of ourselves about which we feel more protective.

I simply felt less comfortable in my skin, and now I feel like I am back to being myself. Although it is fun sometimes to play with different aspects of our persona, it is also nice to feel like I have returned home, where my inner view of myself and the reflection in the mirror exist in harmony,

November 12, 2012
flitting, flitting……resting

I've been flitting about like a mad hummingbird all week, all flighty and flitty, and flibbity gibbity. Unable to sit still, to follow a thought, just bouncing along.

Blame it on modern medicine and last week's congested buggy-thing. Of course then I was sick, with a 5 day sinus headache and congestion in my bronchial passages that would not go away and I still managed to work, blog, and go to the gym. I even managed to participate in my gym's barbells for boobs fundraiser, and finished my workout in the requisite time. The the previously intermittent coughing decided it was time to dig in permanently.

I gave up and went to the a walk in clinic where I walked out with two cough syrups and a prednisone dose-pack but luckily, or so I thought, no antibiotics. Well, it has been a few years since I was on more than 20 mg of prednisone at a time and I forgot that larger doses turn me into a virtual human-hummingbird, flitting here and there never stopping, all butterfly-brained, never resting. Combine that with codeine and it was a lost cause. I'm also one of the minority of people for whom codeine makes me wired as all get-out.

Years ago I was on Tylenol #3 for back pain. I'd be up for 3 days then crash for 24 hours and repeat. When I was up it was like I was main-lining caffeine. I felt productive as long as there was lots of stuff to do, lots of things to push around, and very little on my agenda that required deliberate thought.

This week I've had the hyper-hypers in spades, although I have slept lightly at night. Until today. I am about to crash. But at least my head is clear and I can breathe. I am still coughing a little but probably not so much that I it will wake me. I'm hoping tomorrow will be just another normal day.

The candy bowl is by the door, awaiting the arrival of pumpkins, goblins, and other small unearthly creatures. Dinner is on the stove. I'll probably be in bed about the same time as the wee ones tonight.

October 31, 2012
An Anniversary gift of Pearls

Last week was our 26th wedding anniversary. We celebrated by going out to the symphony and hearing a lovely performance of Candide.

A few days before our anniversary G and his caregiver went shopping at. Luckily I had found a shop that had some suitable options, and on our anniversary he presented me with a small box containing these lovely bronze and baroque pearl earrings by Margaret Ellis.

I hadn't really known anything about Margaret Ellis before I moved here, but I really like her work. Over the summer I had been wishing for something long and light, modern and a bit edgy all at once, preferably with pearls, and when I found this long necklace I snapped it up. Luckily, it goes beautifully with my new earrings and I wore both pieces to the symphony.

Generally I would be more attracted to the silver jewelry, which is what you predominantly see on the website, but the warmer color of these pieces really struck me. I had in fact wanted a gold necklace with pearls but hadn't found anything that wasn't too serious or too pretty, and this hit just the right note. Perfect for my life right now, and probably well into the future.

October 24, 2012
A Chicago Weekend

It seems strange to me that it has been two weeks since I spent a fabulous weekend with friends in Chicago. Liana and I flew in on Thursday and spent a couple of lovely days meeting friends, chatting and knitting by the fire,

snoop shopping, window shopping, or just looking at clothes not thinking of buying them but of what inspires us, how they are made, what the designer has put together and why, comparing notes on what intrigued us and why.

This is the back of a dress by Ralph Rucci. The dress is a heavy jersey. The band at the hip is woven. Note the detailed stitching and the shaping that is incorporated into the design.

Liana was a great shopping companion as she is very detail oriented and observant about cut and technique, noticing subtleties that many others would miss. We were also both great fans of this detail at Moncler, whose coats are all too warm for Tennessee winters.

My photo is not good. But if you look carefully you will see the three rows of zipper teeth, graduated in size, with only the center zipper being functional. A similar treatment was used as a waistband treatment in a coat of the same heavy textured wool boucle.

Some fun was had as well…

trying on hats at Neiman Marcus.

As was getting our makeup done, also at Neiman's, before going out to opening night at the Lyric Opera with our friends Patti and Norm to hear Elektra.

Norm and I were the only members of our party who had not made our opera outfits, although I had intended to make mine. I have several evening things I want to make but I seriously miscalculated the demands on my time. They will still get made. I'm a firm believer in the old adage "if you make it the occasion will come".

Luckily I had this dress still in my closet left over from a few events in my heavier days in NY. It was passable, and several inches longer than the last time I wore it. I needed new shoes to carry it off. I actually look a lot like my paternal grandmother in this photo. I tried to channel a little bit of her drama but I don't think I quite pulled it off. The evening was fabulous regardless.

October 22, 2012
Things I love this week

My threads arrived for the beginning needlepoint class I am taking. I was a bit apprehensive. I had an idea of what I wanted but ordering colors from an online color chart involves a certain amount of faith and guesswork, and I can be surprisingly picky about colors.

Today is the second class. My thread arrived yesterday. I love the colors, they are just what I wanted. I feared the two light purples (seen together to the right of the photo, next to the rust swatch) are too close in value, and they may be. I have ordered another shade, darker than these but lighter than the deeper colors, but it is backordered for two weeks. I ony need three to 4 colors, so I am fine even without it.

The bit of rust is my initial foray into basketweave stitch. There are a few glitches in my tension, and it would have looked nicer if I had pulled that stray thread out of sight before I snapped a picture, but otherwise I am in love with needlepoint and my colors. I can't wait for more.

After class this afternoon, I may settle down with some needlepoint, but I am also planning on starting to read the new issue of The Gentlewoman. It arrived yesterday, and I adore this photo of Angela Lansbury on the cover. There is just so much character, intelligence, wit and grace captured in this photo. She looks like more than just a star, she looks like someone with whom I'd like to sit and chat for a while. So often photos of actors and stars look shallow, as if one was looking at a persona or a mask rather than the actual person. Not this photo.

Well, at least I have the magazine and a few hours.

October 16, 2012
What I learned from Summer…the sundress edition

I have trouble believing it has been two months since I posted a picture of the sundresses I purchased to get me through my first Knoxville summer. I never intended the lag between the posts to develop into such a chasm, but now that autumnal weather finally seems to be settling in it seems to be a good time to clean up unfinished business from the last season.

All four sundresses were successful in that they were comfortable, presentable, and allowed me to get through the summer without fretting or worrying. None of them were perfect in that I do not see them becoming mainstays of my wardrobe, a couple of them will not even last until next summer, but the effects of this experiment will be with me a long time as they really helped me focus and refine my thoughts.

Lets start with the extremes. My favorite dress was the blue knit dress, and my least favorite was the red. They had much to recommend them. The fabric draped nicely and felt fairly cool for a knit. They were comfortable on all but the most humid days, and I felt they really handled the heat and humidity well for the most part. I liked the shaping at the top, the slight empire-line and the bit of a bubble shape to the skirt which kept the dress away from the body enough that it did not cling, a boon in hot humid weather. I also liked the wide faced band at the hem, which weighted the skirt and allowed it to hang gracefully.

So what distinguished the two? Why is one on the best list and the other slated for the discard pile? One feature is length. You will notice from the picture that the blue dress is slightly longer than the red dress. Although you cannot tell this from the photo at right, the blue dress hangs right to the center of the knee-cap. This is a very flattering length on me, and it makes the dress much more versatile as it is equally flattering with flat sandals or heels and a jacket or cardigan. The length, combined with the color make it a dress that can be worn three seasons of the year.

The red dress, which is the first one I bought, hits at the top of the knee. It is cute as a casual summer garment. But that is all. It looks off when worn with more serious shoes or a jacket. It cannot be dressed up and taken out someplace nice; it is merely a play dress, and therefore its usefulness is limited.

Also the fabric on these dresses was not ideal. The rayon knit had a nice weight which allowed it drape well. But both dresses pilled terribly, especially under the arms. This is most evident in the lighter color of the red dress, which looks quite worn after one season. Granted, I wore each dress at least once a week for 5 months, but I think the cost was still too high for a dress that will really only survive one season. The blue dress is still being worn and will work well throughout the fall and probably even into the early spring. However it will not be presentable for another summer of wear. And yet, these dresses will live on as inpsiration for a new summer dress next year. Come spring, when the blue dress is looking tired, I shall use it to make a pattern for a new summer dress, where it will beget many generations of future summer dresses.

But what about the two linen sundresses? They were perfectly nice dresses and they perfectly fulfilled the role I anticipated for them so I cannot say that they were anything but successes. The linen was comfortable in hot humid weather. I wanted something swishy and long that would feel graceful and protect my legs from the summer sun without having to resort to sunscreen.But I liked the way the knit dresses looked on me more than I liked the two linen dresses. They weren't awful, but I think there is room for improvement. The long length paired with the width of the skirt made me feel dumpy. I don't actually mind the fact that I have hips, but in the dress I felt like my short legs looked even shorter.

I wonder if I would like this dress better if the skirt were a little narrower such as is seen in this pattern by Burda. And there is nothing at all wrong with a princess-seamed knee-length linen dress. In the end I may decide that I prefer shorter skirts. I have certainly discovered that I love knee-length pencil skirts in any season, and a flared skirt which hits at the knee is certainly more slimming and graceful in many ways than a long skirt.

I started the summer wanting dresses but not really knowing what kind of dresses I wanted. Increasingly I seem to be leaning toward simple shapes at about knee length, but there is no harm in exploring other options. Next spring I can play with refashioning these dresses into something that not only will get me through another season, but which I might actually love to wear.

October 10, 2012
Bad Blogger

I am sure you experience this. You take on something new. You know you are interested, you know that you have time, that you can fit it in your schedule. But then you embark on your new project and find that everything falls apart, entropy takes over, and you have to pull yourself together again before you can resume activities as normal.

This seems to be a scenario that fits my life in so many ways, from tasks large to small. I am not particularly good at integration. I've known this for a long time. For example, when learning a new piece of music, I have to learn the parts for the left hand and the right hand separately, and master them before I can put them together. This continued to be true even after I had been playing for years, even when I was practicing several hours a day. The same thing happens at the gym, where my primary focus at remains mastering technique. I might think I have learned the proper technique for a squat, or for getting a barbell off the floor and up to my waist or shoulders, but as soon as I add some new component, such as getting that barbell from my chest to over my head, it is as if I forget everything I have learned before, which of course means I haven't really mastered anything at all. I'll give myself a boost by saying that anything that involves body mechanics is not my strong suit at all however and I am more than willing to cut myself a little extra slack in this area.

But I need to remember to take the time to master the individual components of any process before I can piece them together and master the whole. Whether what I am learning seems difficult to me, such as mastering new ways of moving at the gym or the yoga studio, or easy, such some of the materials in Introduction to Mathematical Thinking, which I am taking online through Coursera, I need to make myself go slowly to work through things until they are fully absorbed rather than rushing ahead if I think I have the gist of it but glossing over the details. Details matter.

Sometimes this process of slowing down seems antithetical to this world in which we live, a world that appears to revolve around "more" and "faster". And yet I find myself slowing down, calming down also, realizing that doing more is not necessarily better than doing well, nor more fullfilling. But of course life is not lived in isolation and the general rush of life intrudes and interferes. There are times when more and faster dominate and times for slowing down. Finding balance seems to be a lifelong quest.

There are still storms and lulls on the homefront, and I still tend to be emotionally tossed about or becalmed by the ever changing tides of dementia, but we seem to have a structure in place that more or less rights itself and continues on, and this has allowed me to branch out a bit. That doesn't mean that I always manage to juggle the bits and pieces of my life well but I am working on it. I need to be careful to go slowly, not to jump into too many things too quickly, not to lose the things that are important to me.

One of those important things is this blog. The difference between thinking about blogging and actually writing is significant and worth far more than the time involved. I suspect if I tried it more often I would feel less muddle-headed.

October 8, 2012
Unpacking The Colors of Dreams

I am finally unpacking fabric. Picking up each piece and putting it away certain aspects of an awakening. Each piece, be it humble or more exotic, seems so perfect. Dreams flow around me like whisps. Happiness envelops me.

I do believe I have the most beautiful fabric collection in the world. Of course this opinion is highly subjective. I am certain that ever collector feels their collection is the most beautiful, and rightly so.

These photos are not particularly representative, of colors yes, but of the entire collection not so much. Sublte gradations in color of flat weave basic fabrics don't photograph well, at least not in the still-darkish light of my studio with my photographic skills. But these are fabric pieces, the stuff of dreams.

In the past few months I have dreamt of my fabric. I have thought about how I would sort it and organize it and how it would look on the shelves. As I imagined my wall of fabric I quickly realized that in my dreams I saw the fabric sorted by color, and that in fact color is more a more important factor for me when I am looking for a fabric than fiber content, weave or weight. I did have my fabric sorted by type of fabric once, following some directive that this was the most efficient path. But any system is only as efficient as the people who use it. And I never look for a particular fabric by its weave or weight. Color always comes first in my mind. Even when I am imagining a dress, I am not imagining a wool crepe dress or a silk dress, although those features may be part of general plan, in that I may imagine a blue crepe dress or a pair of pants out of gray wool suiting. It is the color that comes first, not the fabric, with blue and gray being the critical points. I can adapt the execution of my vision to suit the requirements of fabric more easily than I can change my mind about color.

And so I am sorting by color as it is the color I remember when I am looking for a particular fabric. I have a pretty good memory for color and have, on more occasions than I can count, seen a fabric and known instantly that it was a perfect match for something I had waiting on the shelf at home. In fact my "memory-matching" ability is often more on-point than my ability to match something in the poor artificial lighting found in many fabric stores. Each shelf has its own unique range of shades but I am not sorting the fabric in any particular order on each shelf. There is not enough time in the heavens for me to fool with that. It is not like any one piece is going to be more than a few feet away from any other piece.

And of course this too is good. Because I have been known to say I want a green dress, and end up with a purple dress. These things happen whether I am shopping or sewing, and it is one of the happy little inconsistencies of life. I continue to believe that, had I not been looking for the green dress, I would not have noticed the purple one that finally caught my attention.

And now that you know that I almost always start with color, I'd love to know what prompts you to start your search for a new garment or a new sewing project. Do you imagine a silhouette? A weight or type of fabric such as silk or cotton? Or do you start off thinking about a color? If you start out thinking about one color, such as a blue dress or a red blazer, do you ever end up with something else entirely? Do share.

September 18, 2012
Little by Little

A lot has been accomplished in the last month. Oddly enough most of it calmly, without stress, although I have had my moments when I have reverted to my previous self-stressing mode of existence. In July I experienced a moment of clarity and since then I have tried to find calm, tried to create a feeling of calm in my life and my home. Not surprisingly once I stopped struggling with myself, everything I was fighting for came more easily.

I am really not sure where I am going at the moment, but at the same time I am not worrying about it. And I certainly don't know how this blog is going to evolve and it seems strange to admit to that I will continue writting but I don't have a plan or a purpose or a goal. Aimlessness seems so anti-modern and yet I know I will get somewhere. But I am tired of struggling with what I think I should write, tired of struggling with the persona I think I should project. I am willing to evolve. There, I can't believe it took me four weeks to get up the nerve to write that.

On the practical side, I have finally wrested my office into a manageable space even if I am still not completely unpacked.

I put cat perches up on the wall. Sometimes Moisés likes to perch up on the high curve and stare-down at me, Garfield-like, while I type here at my computer. More often though he just lounges in the lower curve content to have his own space high above everyone else. I like that they add a sculptural quality to the room, filling in the empty space and making it feel more finished.

As you can see, I still have boxes of unpacked paperwork on the floor, waiting to be sorted, scanned, and filed. There is another box on the opposite side of the sofa, at least adding a bit of symmetry. But this is manageable. I like things to have a place to live, even if it is a basket in my desk or a box on the floor. It annoys me that I don't really know what to do with the large blue triangular pillow standing in the corner. G needs it for his physical therapy which he does on the office sofa, and truthfully, I find it a nice place to rest my head while I peruse a magazine and sip an espresso on those days I am felled by the 4 o'clock slump. Perhaps I will like the pillow more once I cover it in something more appealing than hospitaliesque blue cotton.

Which may happen soon. My goal is to have a small working studio set up in one of the upstairs rooms by the end of the week. I have to assemble the shelves so I can start unpacking fabric. I at least have to move the fabric boxes once the shelves are assembled so that I can put up a table and a sewing machine. Maybe even an ironing board. I can sew amid boxes but I can't sew if I can't press.

I might be too ambitious. It may be early next week before the sewing room coalesces. This week I am exhausted. I finally decided I needed to join a gym. Specifically, this is my third week of cross fit and it is the most difficult and rewarding thing I have ever done. I am stronger already. I stand straighter. Yesterday, on September 11, we did a hero workout in honor of Navy Chief Petty Officer Mark Carter who was killed in Iraq on December 11, 2007. Even the beginner modification was tough for me but I did it and when I began to lose focus I pulled myself together thinking of all the people who work harder than I can imagine working and sacrifice so much that I can live my safe little life. Somehow by putting a name to the effort I felt I had to do best I could. I pushed myself so far I thought I would throw up before I finished, so I pushed further and I did finish. When I was done I discovered a moment of pure joy as I stood in the parking lot watching the sunrise.

On the other hand, I think I can get that sewing space set up this week as planned.

September 12, 2012
Looking Back on Summer: Sundresses

It is still summer, but the light has changed and it no longer feels the same. The days are often still quite warm but the nights are cooler. School has started. Everything is beginning to feel transitional to me. I am happy with this change. I feel like dressing again rather than just putting on protective clothing.

This leads me to reflect back on the summer. It was hot, too hot, but then I am a person who thinks the perfect summer temperature hovers around 75. At the same time it wasn't quite as bad as I expected although I was glad I bought a few sundresses. I had planned to make them, but didn't get to that with the sudden decision in early May to move rapidly to 24 hour care and the ensuing upheaval. I had already purchased two sundresses. I bought two more, the same styles I already had in different colors.

They worked for me, for the summer, and also as an educational experiment. Now at the end of the summer I have a much better of idea of what I want and, more importantly, why.

Two of the dresses were unmitigated successes. Two were useful and fine for this summer but not as successful. One dress is a favorite that will be copied and used again and again. One dress is a relative failure and is on its way to either Goodwill or the rag heap. The other two dresses are somewhere in the middle.

More later, when I have time and energy for photographs. I have family visiting this week. I will continue posting but the content may be variable depending on other claims on my time.

August 17, 2012