I’m so honored. Mamalode published my essay Out Fit In.
Maybe the children of our youth are meaner in memory, like snowstorms and miles-long walks to school in blizzards.
When we were done living on our boat in the Bahamas, it took a while for me to get used to things in a suburban, historic New England town. Our house was an hour’s drive from the coast and it was far enough from the shore to be teased for being a sailor.
Go back to your boat, I’d hear after leaving a Red Rover game on the playground, shuffling my Sperry topsider sneakers on pavement.
Mamalode is such an amazing community of writers with a mission for all the pieces that make us uniquely whole to come together and inspire. In the long while that I’ve been reading Mamalode I’ve felt connected, inspired and supported.
I’m really excited. Now here’s the part where you can picture me in a crazy outfit waving a giant sign while you wait in your car at a ten-lane intersection.
Click, please. I hope you read it, I hope you like it. And, if you relate in any way to my words, I’d love to hear each unique connection. Click. Enjoy. Share. xoxo
This project was worth the time. Betty had afternoons off last week and was able to help me sew as Olive napped. Sewing with a seven year old requires a bit of patience, yes, but so worth the smiles and lesson learned. Together, we worked on projects for Olive.
She worked on the Bernina a bit, zig zagging the raw hem on the ruffle pants.
From a sewing kit from her last birthday, Betty hand worked a cat. She said, Mama, it’s puuuuurfect. Yes, it is.
In one week, Olive June will be three. Our baby girl is turning into a little girl, one old enough to choose fabrics and suggest just how big pockets on pants should be. I’m so happy I finally finished them. I think she’ll love them. From the moment she fell in love with her stuffed eagle at eight months, she’s been a bird lover. I don’t normally buy fancy wrapping paper. Maybe it’s because I could never make it as a paid gift wrapper in a mall for more reasons than one. Seriously, I just love recycling paper and having the other sisters marker and paint designs on their custom wrapping paper. But, this baby of ours will be three and it seems like it’s the very first birthday she is totally and utterly excited about. I want everything on Halloween to be perfect, including the presents.
I’ve always laughed at the be careful not to twist the cast on stitches as you join the work included in patterns. I knit in low light, in the in-betweens of school pickup, water boiling, soccer game’s ending whistle. I was a distracted knitter this past week.
This hat, for a friend’s birthday, was cast off for our firstborn that begged for a bracelet or sweatband or whatever she could dream it up to be as she stared at it on needles. I was ripping it off, rewinding the ball as she made me stop. Betty loves to turn mistakes around. She the best at it out of everyone in our home.
Tomorrow, I’ll cast on again and dream about all the snow Whistler is getting.
I spent a decade and a half in Massachusetts trying to not soak up the accent, the dropped consonants and mismatched blends. I consciously enunciated, self-corrected. My parents are from New York and Connecticut, and we summered in Rhode Island. I have good friends from Jersey, and know Maine and New Hampshire like the back of my youngest’s blonde locks. In short, I know New England regional accents.
In the far western Washington State I now call home, New England is in my heart, and when I hear a Yankeeland accent, I can’t help but play along. My speech gets wicked thick and it’s easy to tell I know Worcester from Woonsocket.
We checked out The Wicked Big Toddler Goes to New York from the library and it’s been a blast to read. Mama, why are you talking like Grandma? the girls ask and I laugh. I easily make up more editions after the book closes with lobstah, bagles with lox until they beg me to stop talking so funny.
I’ve been reading The Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell. The narrative is unique, with a story that spans centuries and spirals rungs of a ladder and in doing so, weaves non-linear in an unexpected way. The writing reminds me of the television show Quantum Leap, where the story springs mid-sentence. The prose is complex, diverse and exactly what I needed in my weeks-long search for a new novel. I believe Nabokov would consider Mitchell to be an enchanter. Vladimir Nabokov said:
There are three points of view from which a writer can be considered: he may be considered as a storyteller, as a teacher, and as an enchanter. A major writer combines these three — storyteller, teacher, enchanter — but it is the enchanter in him that predominates and makes him a major writer…The three facets of the great writer — magic, story, lesson — are prone to blend in one impression of unified and unique radiance, since the magic of art may be present in the very bones of the story, in the very marrow of thought…Then with a pleasure which is both sensual and intellectual we shall watch the artist build his castle of cards and watch the castle of cards become a castle of beautiful steel and glass.
joining Ginny for yarn along.