Margaret Atwood changed my mind.

b. 1939 Margaret Atwood

Apparently, there is some talk about who Margaret Atwood is and if it matters if the mayor of Canada’s largest city knows who she is, yadda, yadda, yadda…  All I know is when I was a teenager I read a poem that made me think in a way I had not previously. It bore a hole right through my brain that has forever caused me to be open to new ways of looking at things.For that alone I will always know Margaret Atwood. I will know her not as a personal friend, or even as a “Canadian Personage” but as a reluctance in my mind to accept blindly the understanding of reality that is doled out with cultural meat pies. The animals in that country 

In that country the animals   

have the faces of people:
the ceremonial
cats possessing the streets
the fox run
politely to earth, the huntsmen   
standing around him, fixed   
in their tapestry of manners
the bull, embroidered
with blood and given
an elegant death, trumpets, his name   
stamped on him, heraldic brand   
(when he rolled
on the sand, sword in his heart, the teeth   
in his blue mouth were human)
he is really a man
even the wolves, holding resonant   
conversations in their   
forests thickened with legend.
 In this country the animals   
            have the faces of   
Their eyes
            flash once in car headlights   
            and are gone.
Their deaths are not elegant.
            They have the faces of   
Now you might think that I am against eating animals, the fact is “animals” are us and included in “us” are other “animals” who are eating us.  Largely what, or who, is an animal is based on our definitions and our definitions change because of our attitudes. 

Being aware that even the definition of our “personhood” is subjected to popular concensus is a frightening thought. Nevertheless as much as we can, we need to penetrate the meaning.  It seems to be, as human beings, our inheritance.

I have started a new blog for my quilting.

It’s called: Quilting is my addiction. I have not upgraded to “Pro” yet, in the blog or in the quilting.
It’s funny but when a person “makes a living” there is no annual income necessary. I suppose that’s because it can be pitiful!

As I told my son, “You’re an artist, that’s not the same as a loser…the rent is about the same though.”

An addiction is sometimes like a career without the dress code, no health insurance but you do make friends.
And there’s always a newsletter!

It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to…

As a joke I get everyone to look miserable while I sit there and grin for the official birthday picture.  We have done this for many years.

Right now I am getting ready for G.D.’s birthday.  She’s my mom and she is turning 90.

 I am her “house girl”.  I have determined that “house girl” is the best description for what I do in relation to her because mostly I try to keep a smooth path in front of her.  I try to get house work done when she is out.  She goes to yoga, plays Bridge and has physiotherapy every  week.  If I do the housework when she is out she can’t try to wrestle the vacuum cleaner out of my hands to do it all herself.  I have had to convince her I LOVE putting out her walker and bringing it in too because otherwise she would try to do it herself, which is crazy.  She has osteoporosis and ataxia and has broken vertebrae.  She is tiny, fragile and off balance.  She also is blind in one eye and has limited vision in the other but she is also fiercely independent and proud.  I would rather she think the house just doesn’t get very dirty naturally than bemoan the fact that more and more she has to rely on someone else.

Going to a resort (okay it’s still in Ontario, Canada, in NOVEMBER so we won’t be lying on the beach) is as much about giving me a break as it is an excuse for her to reconnect with old friends and relatives but I want her to have fun and enjoy the love and attention. . 

The other day she told a woman that I had sent an invite to that she wasn’t looking forward to her party.  I am hoping it was just her doing her Bette Davis impersonation that expresses boredom over what is her secret glee. Or that she didn’t hear what the woman said. I mean, she loves being the center of attention; she has to have a good time.  I will cry if she hates it, seriously.

I took my quilt to a professional to get it machine quilted.

I’m SO excited to see how it turns out. When I get a picture I will post it here along with the website for the artist who machined quilted it for me.

I have started another on for my mother. It won’t be ready for her 90th birthday but hopefully by Xmas. I am having a hard time getting excited about it though, as it is all in blue and not the colour buzz I have gotten hooked on. It is a busy time right now getting ready for her party this month. We have people coming all the way from Auzzieland!

This is not mine. It is from Brandon Mably at a recent workshop he conducted. I love it!

Colour me crazy!