Last night almost half of the squares needed for my Island quilt were cut while watching the first part of Stand By Me. Remember that movie? When I was younger, I thought it all excitingly dramatic with evil-adults-vs.-righteous-children, and deliciously angst ridden. Last night, I was still quite entertained, mostly with seeing very young versions of very famous actors, but mainly I was thinking, 'Oh, icky! So the drama!' I have enough melodrama in my life right now, thank you. Angst isn't nearly as exciting and attractive viewed from this side of parenthood.
Anyway [she suddenly remembers she is writing a crafting blog], we, The Man and I, cut squares. Most of them are from button down men's shirts, who's arms had been previously sacrificed to make sleevy pants. Here is 180 six inch squares (with only another 200 to go).
Thanks to everyone yesterday who shared links to great quilting blogs. I had a look through and, man, the talent out there truly blows me away. Not only are the quilts amazing, but the presentation is art in itself. Quilters always strike me as a fairly zen group. It takes a lot of patience to put together a quilt. Patience, forethought, planning, and tenacity. All admirable characteristics I wish I grow more of in myself.
I always feel a strange mix of admiration and inadequacy when viewing some of the more polished blogs written by crafty women with children at home. It's intimidating, sharing space on the internet with the likes of Anna Maria Horner, Amanda Soule, and Amy from Habitual. They are all multi-talented ladies, being accomplished crafters, writers, designers, photographers, parents, and, hell, they're pretty good looking too! I am grateful for the small peeks into their worlds they provide through their blogs, sharing their inspirations, projects, homes, and children with us.
Looking at my own life and crafty efforts after reading their blogs, well... blah. I usually have to give myself a little pep talk. I remind myself that a blog is, by it's very nature, a staged production, and that I can not know all that goes on behind the curtains. It's not an intentionally deceptive, or at least not deceitfully so, it's just the nature of the medium, it's the need for privacy, it's because a blog is art in itself. A blog is a spotlight on a part of a life, viewed through many filters, embellished, and then edited. In many ways it is a fantasy, lots of wishful thinking on the bloggers' part, and also a confession or testimonial. Life isn't a blog and a blog isn't a life.
Besides, what if these phenomenal crafty ladies actually shared all their tedious daily struggles with me? What if they told me about every parenting screw up, not just the funny ones, but the dark ones too? What if they shared the ways in which they've been damaged by their parents and their struggles to nurture their inner children or find themselves or come to grips with their sketchy pasts? I'd be thinking, 'Oh, icky! So the drama! Shut up and show me the fabric!'
Anyway [she suddenly remembers she is writing a crafty blog and not on a therapist's couch], my insistent children believe I am supposed to be taking them to the parrot refuge instead of sitting here blogging. I shall have to return to the my messy, angsty life now. Until tomorrow...
Ps., in order to make up for my obviously staged photo above (I took the squares outside to get a clear shot in good light, seeing as I live in a dark cave, and I did move the sea shells closer, and I did pick them off the ground and restack them when Birdie pushed them over the railing, after saying a very nasty word) I shall do my own part to promote a bit of realism in blogging by telling you that I am still in my pajamas... from yesterday morning. Ahem.