Oh, Jeez

Last one of the day -- how could my sausage-loving, snow-adoring, proud Midwestern heart have forgotten that my BELOVED CHICAGO WHITE SOX WON THE DAMNED WORLD SERIES? What is my problem? I spend every waking moment thinking of a way to get back to Chicago and my beloved Comiskey. I spend every sleeping moment dreaming about life back in Chicago -- the wind, the snow, the good-hearted, mid-American sensibility of the people? (They chose Barack Obama, for heaven's sake -- he's my screen saver.) White Sox? I LOVE YOU!

One Other Thing

This is what happened this evening, when I was walking Lou. We went to the grocery store to get Beneful (the best dog food ever, according to Lou, with Pedigree Small Bites running a close second -- he's old, so he appreciates being able to just swallow the food and not chew it first).

The Scene:
The Bodega on 123rd and Adam Clayton Powell.

The Action:
Me, tying Lou to the bus stop out front (no buses were coming, so it was safe that I'd be out before one showed up)
Then, I go inside to buy the food
Then, I hear, "Hey, get that dog out of here"
I look, and see that Lou has come loose from his leash and collar and has walked into the store looking for me, or for Slim Jims

The Dialogue:
Me: "Oh, I'm sorry. That's my dog. Lou, bad dog (subtext = you're so clever). I'll take him outside, just let me put this (bag of dogfood) here on the counter.
Man behind counter: That's a smart dog you got, or greedy.
Me: He's both.
Man: Well, you're lucky, mami. You might get a dog in life, but if you get a smart one AND a greedy one, he'll be with you forever. (Laughs)
Me: It's the story of my life ... and my love live.
Man: I hear you, mami.

The End.

I'm in LUV, Y'all

That's right. Zing, Spring, Love, Dove, Hearts & Rainbows, Roses & Nosegays. Oh, my heart is singing, and I am as light as a feather. I see my beloved everyday, and never knew. Until now. You have no idea. My beloved's name, you ask? Kona Espresso 100% cotton fabric. Yes, I AM a LOSER. I am embracing it rather than running from it. I figure, I'm good at it, so why not?

Surely, I need some pursuits outside of work that actually involve other people, but the truth is, I don't have the energy. It's enough that I actually shower and put on a top AND bottom before going to work. Today, I actually wore lipstick into the office, and people were like, "Wow! You look great today." That's how bad it is.

Anyway, get ye to Hancock's of Paducah (as in Paducah, Kentucky. It's wonderful, easy to cut, washes beeyootifully! I'm using it for the Denyse Schmidt Quilt-a-Long. I'm making Drunk Love in Espresso, Petal and Cream -- all Konas.

Tomorrow, I am FOR SURE (or as we say in my neighborhood, Fo' Sho') buying a digital camera so I can take pix of the work in progress. I'm also working on Redwork from Modern Quilts, using Cream and Blossom Konas. In addition, here's what else is going on:

1. Jacob's Quilt: Such a big boy! He needs Patchwork reds, blues, greens around a triangle border with cream hand-quilted front and olive green back. (This one is finished, save my embroidering his name and birthdate (which, of course, I didn't know until he came into the world) on the piece, along with a little message from me on a corner of the back.

2. Jhett's Blue: Solid navy linen baby quilt with this accent Jhett is a COOL baby. He needs a cool, modern quilt. This one is awesome. Hand-quilted on the accent, hand tied throughout. Excellent, if I say so myself.

3. Baby Bell: There will be no stopping this girl, so I'm thinking: Pink, Pink, Pink -- a patchwork of pinks, including and and .

4. Devito Delightful: While tempted to make everything pink and sparkly, he would "chop" me, so to thank him for taking care of Lou in my absence, Anthony gets pillows -- and maybe a quilt if I have enough leftover fabric, but for sure a cuddly afghan for cool nights watching The Discovery Channel. The pillows will look like this: and this . And, the other pillow: This and this . Imagine those four plus espresso, cream and lime in a quilt. I'm a genius. If it doesn't work, there's always the afghan. It's olive, lime, hunter, heathered and icy green with cream accents -- it's all sewn together, patchwork quilt stylel, but knitted blocks instead of fabric. Now, I just have to find an edging. It's killing me not to use pink.

5. Wertzaholic: For Jason & the new baby: It kills me that people don't want to know the sex of the baby until it's born. Great for them, a huge pain in the butt for me. Choices = yellow or green. Blech. Here's the one I'm making for Baby Girl/Boy Wertz: Front - . Back - . I'll hand-quilt around the bugs.

6. Claudia's Comfort: For Connie's new baby. Jeesus, it's taken me a long time to do this one. I don't have pictures of the fabric, because it's all vintage and I don't have a digital camera (yet - see above). It's like this: Front is 2/3 mint green floral and cream, 1/3 lime green with embroidered pink flowers. Back is lime-ish green linen. The whole thing is hand-quiltied in cross-hatch pattern with the squares at about 2-inches each. Tomorrow, I'm attaching a crewel work piece with Claudia's name and birthdate on it. Them, I'm sending it out. Alleluia. One down.

Creative Juices

Are there any other kind? Well, I suppose so, but whatever. Here's fabric that has to go together, not sure how, but I'm going to make it happen.

Project #1: with something?

Project #2: and

Project #3: with something?

Project #4: and

Pillows and a couple of totes. We'll see.

The Bitch is Back

Lou is coming back tomorrow. Izzy's coming back, too, but she doesn't really care where she is as long as there' s food. Anyway, here are Lou's thoughts communicated to me telepathically, as we have that kind of connection:


"Oh, you want me. You want my big, fuzzy, potato-chipped ears and my big, hairy, pointy head positioned right under you left knee while you sit on the couch. You want it. Tell me you want it. Okay, don't tell me. I know you want it, and that's enough.


"Oh. Um. Yeah. That was the best Pupperoni I ever had, Anthony. Give it to me again before I have to go live with the stingy girl."

Here's What Happens

Here's the thing -- we all (okay, just me) thought Joni Mitchell's idea, co-opted by the Black Crows, that you don't know what you've got until it's gone was trite. Okay, yeah, I have a bunch of crap in my house. Boxes unopened over four moves, in fact. If they were destroyed in a fire, I have to say, I wouldn't be sorry for their loss precisely because I DO know what is in them -- nothing I've needed in four years.

That said, I do kind of get it now. When it's all gone, it's just you. Lonely is shit; shit squared, in fact, when you didn't know you were lonely until someone told you. Ass. I didn't know I had non-lonely until it was gone. No Izzy/Algebra (I'm thinking of changing her name). No Louis. Just me. Durn, I suck. I am horrible company for myself, especially when this week's episode of LOST is a motherfucking repeat. What the hell? I can't knit/sew/crochet anything else, because there's too much in progress. And, I don't want to start a new project with 8 already in the works. It's just this -- someone sought me out. That same someone told me I was worth more than I have/am getting, and I believed it. Someone wanted to give me that more. I now know that more is possible, and the sad thing is, it's worse than not knowing. Digging ditches is fine, and honorable work. Until someone tells you that your idea of yourself as ditch-digger is limiting, that you can do more. And then, that someone throws you a rope down the grade and pulls you up. Do you take the first rope that comes down the grade? It's a risk, because there might be another, stronger rope to follow. If I had it to do over again, I'd take the first rope and wend my way to a different life. It might not be better, but I would have done it. I would have grasped at something new, and having grasped, learned that I could do it again.

I have often said that, were I a different woman -- a different color or age -- I would deserve a nervous breakdown. As it stands, I have the luxurious burden of being a strong black woman. Yeah, I read Essence, the magazine for today's black woman. The same magazine, mind you, whose employees were described by their parent company as having the abiltiy to morph a status meeting into a revival meeting. The parent company rep who said that was a woman, too. Let's all give her a smack right in the chops, shall we?

Jeez-o-peetz, as we used to say
Back in the day
When we were kids
And didn't know how it really is
That someone has proscribed her very existence
That slings of derision and arrows of patrimony
Would overcome her resistance and hope for a new day
That her success was rated lower
Than those she hoped would one day love her
Or you

That the gains and strides she made
Would be subjected to a separate grade
"As good as us"
Or, "Not quite", and thus
The expectations laid at her feet
Those that she hoped she'd meet
Would be those of another
One versed in condescension? Hate? But not love, or
One who knew her not for her self
But for her difference from him
Or you, or them

There was a poetry vibe all over me today. Lucky for you ... or not. Later - j. (<-- read with the proper cadence, that rhymes, too. I can't sop myself ... nor can you.)

Fame & Fortune, Here I Come

Wait, where are you running off to? Damned fame and fortune. It's more elusive than WMD. Looks like another week of work and work. The cars never seem to stop ... working at the car wash. I wish. So, here are the funniest thigns that happened this week:

1. I threw up on the M2 bus on my way to work. Okay, that was more embarrassing than funny.

2. I stayed up until 2am several nights this past week, and came into work on the weekend in preaparation for a client meeting, and apparently some wild animal came in to my house while I was busy concentrating on all that work, and decided to toss my dirty laundry around the bedroom, leave a pile of dirty dishes in the sink, and start several knitting projects before abandoning them on my coffee table.

3. Even MORE people are having babies. I should never have told anyone I sew. How many quilts would a quilter quilt if a quilter could quilt quilts? Apparently, 7. At least they're babies. I'll post the pictures of the works in progress, along with the Denyse Schmidt piece (it's a piece, all right. I am bad at patterns) later this week.

4. The funniest thing that happened this week was, when I was feeling sorry for myself and wanted to commiserate with Ed and Anthony about the incidentus vomitosis (see above), they both busted out laughing, and laughed until I started laughing too. Hmm. There's probably something to that.

Ghosts in the Machine ... or Apartment

Lou. Lou is staying with Anthony. And, the thing is, I'm afraid Lou will love Anthony more than me! I'm equally afraid for Lou, though, because I project my own personal pathologies on him. What if Anthony doesn't like him? Lou don't got no thumbs, man. How can he call me? While not too nice to tell me he hates my dog, Anthony is smart enough to know that I am approximately 1/8 of an inch from full-blown crazy -- the kind of crazy that puts you in jail for some reason -- and would probably fake an illness in his family to get me to take Lou to the kennel.

Keereyest! If I could parlay my ability to dream up scenarios of doom into some kind of career ... wait a minute, I can:



Color him brown and with boobs, and it's me, man. I've got to sign off so I can update my resume ... plus, Aqua Teen Hunger Force is on.