Quilt of the Day

Summertime, 2005.
This is Eddie's quilt. His initials are down in the bottom left hand corner. I was going to sign it with my own. Silly mother.

I love the wonky lettering.


That border print is by KP Kids.....and those orange stars are for a year of colour!


I put white ric rac under 'fussy cut' portraits and buttonhole stitched them (by machine of course) with a heavy white cotton thread to make postage stamps.....or maybe they're postcards. Nice bubble quilting.

Portrait of the artist.

Beach girl!

55

It's hard to grieve without a funeral. It's hard to say goodbye to someone, without that unwelcome, but shared experience of saying goodbye and celebrating a life. It's hard not to have been around other people who were feeling the same way while it was fresh and new and shocking to everyone, not just to me. I have held a ceremony of sorts of my own to say goodbye. I was full of doubt and disbelief so now I've got the newspaper with the death notice I deeply regret not seeing when it was published. I've found out when the coroners report into this unexpected death will be released. I've thought of telling her something, of calling her about lunch, and then remembered, with horror, as you always do when someone dies. But mostly I remember laughing with her. Laughing a lot. And those last conversations about moving on, of possibilities, of brighter futures to be had.

So hey, friends old and new, look at the Pixie Post! 55 Posts. Over 2000 visits from all over the world. Around 18 visitors a day, who stay for 5 minutes. I know it isn't breaking any records, but it's a whole new world and it's lots of fun. It's a little theraputic too. How cool is that?

Two little girls

Two little girls, giggling their tiny behinds off, in the womens changing room at the pool.
"Why are we laughing?"
"I don't know!"

Longer, louder giggles.

tee hee heee.

Hot Magenta

Hot magenta for a year of colour. Well, not really. It was hard for me to find something that colour, living this life full of boys. Here's my desk with Piglet, pink lip gloss, and racy pink car. The flowers have filled the space with fragrance all week...even the boys have enjoyed them.

Remember to Breathe

Ampersand Duck started a meme. She's thinking about her brother and remembering what's good about life. Seems a fine time to join in and remember what it is that reminds me to breathe.

1. The sea...in all it's moods, every season.
2. The moon...always changing, always beautiful.
3. Tui's singing, and fantails fluttering...native NZ birds that make my heart sing.
4. Daffodils...can't get enough of them.
5. The sky. The big, beautiful, boundless sky. It's theatre in the round.
6. The smell of fresh cut grass.

(12? You want 12? This is much harder than I thought!)

7. Rain that thunders on a tin roof. Really thunders. That's mountain-fed rain-forest rain.
8. Swimming. Swimming is freedom.
9. The smell of washing, fresh from the line, dried in the sun and a little breeze.
10. An open fire. Preferably at the beach under some stars, but inside warming a room is good too.
11. Art, theatre, movies, music or writing that changes the way I see the world, for a moment, for a day, or for ever.
12. Sewing. A pile of fabric, a rotary cutter, a sewing machine, an iron. Bliss.

As @duck says, that's today's list. It could probably change every day.
These are the things that keep me breathing, no matter what. These (mostly) simple things will sustain me, and are not dependent on other people, they are my things, and that's important too. Thanks @duck, for this lovely theraputic idea.

So, what helps you remember to breathe?

Raewyn

Raewyn and I have lunch together once every two weeks or so. Sometimes we have a glass of wine and take longer than the allotted hour. We put the world to rights, as you do. Raewyn's partner died very suddenly nearly 2 years ago. He was the one who called me Pixie, which I talked about here. We talked about him a lot, and she always would say how lucky she was to have been loved by him. We usually met at a cosy pub where the food is cheap and cheerful. She confessed she was drinking too much alone at home at night in the early months after her partner died and not eating, so she'd order a salad or vegetarian dish and say that was her healthy meal taken care of for the week. She was having great fun telling me of stories of dating, of the married men who hit on her, of how all the decent ones were taken, or far too young. We talked a lot about men this year, hers and mine.

When Jack was born (he's 12 now) she came to visit at the hospital and brought a blue cardigan she'd crocheted. Her first for years she said. When I went into the city to have lunch with her (and him) a few months later I dressed him up in it. She laughed her head off, said it was horrible and made me take it off him and promise not to use it again. We laughed and laughed.

I last saw her at the end of June or the first days of July. Then in July she didn't answer my emails, her cell phone didn't get answered either. She stopped sending the jokes and those soppy story emails with the too cute pictures which she loved. Today I decided enough was enough and I was going to find her. I rang her at work and left her a voicemail. I sent more emails, but this time they bounced. I tried her cell phone again but it beeped it's 'no such number' sound at me. I have another friend who works at the same place, so I asked P to see if she could find out if Raewyn still worked there. We joked that she must have fallen in love. Maybe she's gone off to study full time I thought.

P rang me to tell me Raewyn died on about 8 July. She was found by a friend who went to deliver her some food because she was sick. She'd had a few days off work. I missed her funeral because I didn't know. I rang a couple of other people who also didn't know. Someone else told me he was surprised I wasn't at the funeral (and apologised profusely).

Raewyn was petite and blonde. She was bubbly and bright and liked to party. She was a young teenager when her son was born, and she was proud to see him settling down and getting his life together in his 20s. He spoke beautifully at her partners funeral. I'm sure he did her proud at hers. She was very intelligent, and had just started studying Sociology at University part-time....her first tertiary study, she was so excited!

I can't believe she won't be around for lunch any more.

Have you got a lunch buddy? Have lunch with your buddy tomorrow for me! And if you're in town, come have lunch with me.

Oh the places I go!

How to beat the winter blues.
Leave Wellington on a cold cold rainy morning.


Spend a day at work in Gisborne, then walk by the sea nice and early in the morning. Meet with bright and passionate community representatives. Immerse yourself in a little glimpse of maori culture. Bask in the warmth of rich and strong community spirit.


(I did my best to keep out of the water. This beach must get groomed in the summertime, but in the winter it was teeming with beautiful gnarly driftwood).

Next, drive with a carful of colleagues through spectacular native forest reserve to Whakatane. I guess I should have asked the driver to stop for a picture. The forest was full of Nikau palms, the river was fast, clear and blue.


Stay the night at Ohope Beach. Paddle in the water, walk by the sea.
(This is the sunrise from my bedroom window. Yep, the beach was just across the road. There was a full moon the night before).
Meet with more committed community representatives. Enjoy the pace of life and the happy, positive vibe of a small regional centre and people who really are making a difference.

Thank goodness for the opportunity to get out of the ivory tower in the heart of the concrete jungle.

Chesnut Brown

Which one's the monkey?
This is Edward (aged 9), with chesnut coloured hair, and two of his favourite things which are both pretty chesnutty.
Eddie has been learning the guitar for about a year, and serenades me while I'm on the computer. He loves the Beatles, and he's busy learning one of my favourite Sting songs, Fields of Gold. I look forward to teenage bands practising in the garage. Guess we better build a garage huh? 

Sky blue

Eddie (aged 9) and I walked along the beach today, and these things found their way into his pockets. Ed has a fine collection of feathers. Kitty thought he'd help with the photograph for A Year of Colour. Here are some sky blue hand-dyes which will all be cut and stitched tonight, and a vapour trail.

I don't get that blue is a 'cold' colour. I just don't feel it. Perhaps it is because I live in New Zealand where a sky that blue comes with startlingly clear, strong light and the heat of the sun, but there's something about that blue that is anything but 'cool'.