BadAss Quilters Society, in reaciton to the censorship of a quilt, is setting up a new show, The Skin We Are In. See my previous post for details…
I have a quilt already made titled “Reveling in Post-Menopausal Zest” that I will enter and I will have to create a quilted version of my apron reading “I did not come from your rib, you came from my vagina…”.
Must get busy on this new quilt.
BadAss Quilters society said:
I believe in The Democratic Nation of Quilting™ <— pay attention there; it is going to be a thing!
We are the BadAss Quilters Society™ and we believe that quilting is a democratic pursuit and is open to anyone who wants to create. We are not bound by any style, stitchy dogma or rules that set unintentional or restrictive boundaries on creativity.
This woman is one of my tribe!
Going through a journal from 2011, I found this page about who I am…
and this list of adjectives (I was taking a class and they asked us to make an adjective bank – I think that is was a Tracy Bautista class)
they read: creative, calm, focused, talented, artist, mixed media, journaling, altered art, recycled art, entrepreneur, successful, trendy, quirky, cattywampus, skewed,off kilter, non-traditional, kooky, eclectic, sketch, doodle, atelier, handmade, colorful, passionate, quirky.
This experiment started in 2012. I discovered Seth Apter and he had proposed hanging paper outside to watch it weather. This idea intrigued me, so I took it to heart. Rainbow Artists had a show called “Art by the Yard” and all entries had to be 18×36″. I submitted my piece and after the show, decided to hang it on my balcony. I started out with the best of intentions and posted for two months in a row. Then I tapered off… My first two posts can be seen here and here.
I guess that this is the last picture that i took in December of 2012, and as you can see it has weathered a lot.
Coyote Woman by Tina Le Marque
This book, which “jumped” out at me, was meant for my hands.
Quotes drilled into my heart and psyche:
“I consider myself an automatic member of open minded churches such as this one, a free lance member of the greater laughing, breathing, heaving spiritual body. “
“I am experiencing a primitive terror at the thought of living in the world without this old soul who loves me so deeply. When she is gone, who will know me the way she does? Who will protect me in the dark and scary night?”
“.. my mother joins the river of women who will mother me from beyond this plane.”
Tina also stabbed my heart with the concept of Spirit Dogs. They await you in whatever your version of the afterlife is all about.
My spirit dogs are Blackie, Laddie, Tipsy and Cutie Pie.
Blackie and Laddie were with me from my birth and are all a part of my earliest and best memories.
Blackie was a black curly cocker spaniel who was born without a tail. When he wagged his tail (which was often as he was a happy dog) his whole rear end would waggle! When I learned to crawl all that I wanted to do was clamber up on him, pull his hair or slobber all over him. He would patiently watch as I neared him, then get up and move to another part of the room. When I finally got to him again, he would move again, never growling or nipping at the small annoying bundle of me. One of the happy things that Blackie loved to do was chase cars… and he was run over and killed when I was in the fourth grade. When they told me he was dead I cried inconsolably for hours.
Laddie was a Lassie look-alike and was more my older brother’s dog, but I expect to see him as my spirit dog too. I cannot remember how he died, but he probably died of old age, as he was much calmer than Blackie. This is a picture of brother Tommy and Blackie (he is holding up his ears!) c 1951.
When I was told by my fundamentalist church that Blackie couldn’t go to heaven, I decided then and there that if Blackie was not there, I did not want to go there. Thus began the dissolution of my relationship with any organized religion. This persisted until I found Unitarian Univeralism after my daddy’s death in 1993.
Next came Tipsy. Mother would not allow us to have female dogs (before the days of spay and neuter) so I got permission to walk to a girlfriend’s house to pick out a new puppy. I picked out a puppy and carried him blocks and blocks to home. Tipsy was a wonderful dog. He had the markings of a Doberman Pinscher even though he was only about 12 inches high. He was a ferociously protective but loving dog. We moved him from New Mexico to Dallas, Dallas to California and then back to New Mexico. He was my constant companion. He finally died of congestive heart failure at Bear Canyon sometime in my senior year.
Then came Cutie Pie, the love of my life and my child for many years. Larry came home with her tucked inside his fatigue shirt. Her owner had thrown her up against the wall, and Larry could not leave her there. She was part Pekingese with the flat funny nose but not smashed in. the first picture is of my first husband Larry, Cutie Pie and her puppy Hobo in 1968. the second photo is Cutie and me in 1972.
My favorite memory of Cutie was that after her bath, she would run around and around because it felt so good! But getting her into the bath was another matter. She always came in the bathroom with me (again a constant companion) but when I was ready to give her a bath she usually had to be pulled from under the furniture.
She also loved to chew up my sandals. I had a pair of sandals that she chewed up one shoe. So I bought another pair just like it and she chewed up the same shoe. So I had two right shoes and no left ones.
One Christmas we went to Dallas and Fred and Carol, our next door neighbors took care of Cutie for us. She was a wild child (like her mother) and got away from them. She got picked up by the dog catcher. Fred and Carol, being military and only getting paid once a month on the first of the month, did not have the money to bail her out. When we returned and learned that she had been in custody for several days, I was so afraid that she had been put down. Mother and I went to the pound and walked up and down each aisle, but no Cutie. As I approached the last row, I was frantic, but I finally did find her in the last cage on the last row of the pound! I was ecstatic!
Shortly thereafter, Larry got orders to go to Germany and we were not able to take Cutie with us. Mother and Daddy agreed to keep her for us for the year and a half that we would be gone. I have a picture of us together in Mother and Daddy’s back yard when I returned from Germany. Larry and I were not living together and I could not afford a pet deposit, so Cutie lived out the rest of her days with Mother and Daddy, and worked her magic on them. She was the only dog allowed in the house… ever!
I couldn’t get another dog (I could not even walk down the dog food aisle and see Mighty Dog (her preferred brand) until 1982 when Jimmy bought me a Yorkie –something I had wanted since falling in love with a teacup Yorkie while working at the Lodge the summer before college. Bear was his name and when Jimmy and I split up he kept Bear, but I got the pick of the litter from his first batch of puppies. We got Princess. Due to economic pressures, and yes, greed, we sold Princess. Both of these Yorkies were fine dogs, but I just did not have the relationship with them that would make them spirit dogs. Guess that they will have to make up their minds about my status in the afterlife.
I have not had anything but cats since then.
Another jewel from my 2008 journal…
A cinquain has
one word (subject)
two word (description)
three word (action)
4 word (statement)
and a single w
Here are some of my cinquains from a workshop with Pamela Beverage
flitting in air
wings beating softly
household engineering specialist
spotless house absolutely mandatory
sunlight glinting through
flying free without care
escape (Note when I typed this I typed escapee??)
reigning over all
loving all the parts