American as apple pie

     Doesn't that look yummy?  I've made apple pie before, but I've never made a lattice crust until now.  ohoo!  Who knew it would be so easy, and look so pretty?  Why didn't I try it sometime in the last forty years? 
     We get into our comfort zone, which then seems to contract as the years go by.  We may think about doing something new, may even plan it out, but do we take the first step?  Not that making a lattice top for an apple pie is a large leap by any means, but I wonder why it took me so long to do this small thing.
     How many other things am I missing in life?  How much am I limiting myself just by not thinking further, pushing further, looking further?  I am happy, very happy, with my life.  Does that contentment create too much lethargy?  Maybe that is why the princess really did need a pea under her mattress.  She found the pea to be an irritant, but think what she would have been like without it--perfectly rested!
     My mother had the secret to making a perfectly twisted edge on a pie crust.  You know, the kind that looks like a coiled rope all the way around the pie.  I watched her do it hundreds of time, but could never quite figure out how to do it.  My grandmother, mom's mother, could roll two lumps pf bread dough at one time, into perfect buns,  She did one in the left hand, one in the right.  I never could do that, either.  One bun would turn out pretty well, the other would be smashed and shunken.  Now I use a breadmaker and never make buns, only loaves.  Maybe I need to try again.  Or maybe I need to move on to making brioche or oven pancakes or something else I nevr tried, but always wanted to. 
     It used to be that there was too much to do, too little time, what with a job, three kids, a marriage, and sleep.  Now there is retirement, the three kids making their ways alone, if unsteadily, a marriage that has survived thirty-seven years, and lots of time for sleep, there is still too much to do, but a lot more time to get it done.  I find myself trying to parse the tasks done, however, I think because I realize now that although I have a lot more time, it still is not enough time, and choices must be made.Also, I am slowing down, taking longer just to make the choice of jam on my toast in the morning.  I find I want to do tasks more precisely, rather than just quickly to get them done.
     Is this a ramble?  It certainly is not a carefully thought out dissertation on aging.  Tomorrow is my birthday, another year older, hopefully another year wiser.  The lattice top pie was a very small adventure.  May there be many more.

piecework

Business as Usual
Guess I haven't written for awhile--the frenetics of the holidays does that to me.  There is so much to be done, only a tiny fraction of which gets accomplished.  But the holidays come, anyway, and we have a great time being together, whether or not the turkey is cooked to perfection, or the house decorations are perfect. 
This year, my son and husband were in charge of dinner for the family Christmas.  They did a marvelous job, and I think started a new tradition.  At least, I am in favor of it as a tradition, as I got to spend my day NOT in the kitchen, and it was just wonderful.  I got to go to my teacher-daughter's classroom and watch her try to control 30 5th graders on the afternoon before winter break, and help with a craft project.  It was so much fun.  Sara is a marvellous teacher, very unflappable, rolls with the punches, relates to her students.  One of those teachers kids will remember years later.
 So, it has been busy, but also eventful and satisfying.  I do miss talking to my son, though.  He is only 20 miles away, at school, and seems to be doing very well.  I'm so very glad for that.  He has matured a great deal in the last two years.  Why is a daughter easier to talk to than a son?  Is is the age, the gender, or have I not yet morphed from "Mom" to friend who also happens to be mother?

Healing

About two months ago I took a bad fall, thought I'd broken my wrist, but it was "only" torn ligaments in my wrist.  I wore a splint, took serious painkillers, spent sleepless nights, but today the splint was removed and I have my hand back.  It took two months of healing, two months that I admit I didn't pass patiently, but incredibilly, the ligaments wove themselves back together without too much effort on my part.  How does the body do that?  And does our brain heal itself in the same way?  There is so little we know about healing.  So, we are very foolish to limit ouraelves to doctors and hospitals.  We need to trust ourrselves more, too.  The doctor initially said the x-ray showed no broken bones, which turned out to be true, but he did litttle more until I saw another practitioner about the pain and swelling.  That P.A. did help with appropriate meds, and encouraged me to go back to the first doctor.  With that encouragement, I did (I am usually in such awe of doctors that I won't question their judgement) and the degree of swelling persuaded him to order an MRI, which revealed badly torn ligaments.  That called for a more extensive splint for a longer time period.  Healing takes time, but it also takes patience, and willingness to look for what is really wrong.
I think this applies very strongly to our mental health, too.  I have felt lethargic, mentally slow.  A certain amount of depression,  too, but I have been afraid, I think, to examine these feelings too closely.  Can I heal without doing so>  Can I do the examination on my own, or do I need family, professionals, friends?  I haven't been able to just push myself to DO something.  Am I lazy?  If that is the answer, then why?  What makes the brain slow down?  Are there times when I feel more energetic?  This reminds me of when I was first diagnosed with MS, and took a class about MS fatigue.  Maybe I need to revisit the lessons learned in that class:
1.  Rest when you need to.
2.  Find the times when you feel energetic, and use those periods.
3.  Don't blame yourself for being fatigued; it is the number 1  complaint of 80% of those who have MS.
4.  Accept yourself the way you are, the symptoms your MS causes. 
5.  Do what you can, but build in some alternating rest periods, because you know you will need them. 
6.  Find ways of doing things that take less energy, like keep all your writing supplies in one  place if you are a writer, or, better yet, keep duplicate sets of supplies where you will ned them, so you don't have to spend time collecting your tools.
7.  Accept help from others, and don't be afraid to say no to demands from others, because you can't do everything.
No, I haven't  finished to exploration necessary to heal, but I HAVE begun the exploration.  And I will heal.

Taking care

Moms take care of evryone, don't they?  And it is so comforting to know as you take care of your brood, that YOUR mom is there to take care of you.  I became a new grandm in October 2010, a month after Mom had a stroke, from which she died two months later.  I had so many questions about how to be a good grandmother.  Of course, I had her example of some thirty years to use as an example, but until you are in the same situation, you don't knpw what questions you will have, what will be important to remember.  How very much I have wanted to talk to Mom these last two years, to ask her how she did it, and what I should be doing differently.  I have needed some mothering, some reassurance and si=ome pointers.  I'm so glad Mom was around as long as she was to give me such a strong example to follow.  I just wish I could be mothered one ore day.

Independence Day

Tomorrow we again celebrate the birth of our country.  Set  aside the quibbles about whether July 4 is the right day, or 1776 is the right year.  Set aside the Native American issue, the columbus issue, the Civil War issues--they are small potatoes, really.  The celebration is certainly warranted just for the fact that this government has held together another year, despite recession, political differences that seem to grow more divisive every day, federal deficits and political wrangling.  The structure of the government has held, and has been shown to be a viable form of government, "of the people, for the people, and by the people."  It shall not perish from the earth. 

It's been a month since I tuned in here, a month of a lot of trials!  First, I messed up my right hand in a fall--no broken bones, but might as well have been.  I'm in a splint for 4-6 weeks.  Makes all my (right-handed) activities difficult.  Then I conracted iritis (again) and have been taking two kinds of eyedrops to fix that.  Then, my ankyling spondylitis acted up and I am having trouble walking.  Don't ever take your good health for granted, even your ability to see, and walk, and itch your nose!
Piecework in progress is the name of this blog, because I always have piecework (and peacework) to do. It's always in ptogress, and when one piece is done, there is another to do.  That can be daunting, but it can also be upifting, inspiring.  It is not the destination that is important, but the journey.  That means it is not so important to finish, but it is important to keep working at whatever your chosen task is.
I believe we are here, alive, for a purpose, or at least that living with a purpose will make one's life happier and satisfying.  Discovering your purpose may be tricky, and may not be easy to discover.  I don't think one's purpose is a general thing, like to be kind, or do good works, although that may be part of one's purpose and may bring a person great happiness.Neither, however, is it a specific thing, like to be in X place at X time.  It is not destiny--I don't believe in predestination, or in an all-powerful god playing chess with our lives. 
What is my purpose?  Sometimes it is eaier to say what it is NOT:
to be a public figure
to be a judge
to be a martyr for a cause
to be a narcissist.
I feel like I need to add some happiness to the world, to at least one person in this world.  I don't need to be remembered by the world, just by one person or two, for being loving and nurturing.
What does piecework have to do with my purpose?  I haven't a clue.

How Not to Make a Quilt, American or Otherwise

     I have been making a crazy quilt for over three years now.  It started the summer of 2009, when my stitching group decided to do a bock exchange.  The members involved determined the type of block each wanted, and each month would make a block for another member, and would receive a block in return.  Easch member also provided a box with fabric and instructions or patterns.  It was a good way for me to practice making many types of blocks, and in return to get blocks created by others. 
      We did this for six months in 2009, and again in 2010.  For this period of time, I was off the hook, as obviously I couldn't make the quilt until I had all the blocks.  Once I had twelve blocks, enough for a lap quilt, obviously they had to "age," so they sat in a prominent position in my sewing room, so as not to be forgotten, for eighteen months. 
     Meanwhile, I thought about the sashing and binding I would need, an excellant excuse for multiple trips to fabric srores.  Last month I finally laid the blocks out on the floor, moved them around a bit, and decided on the type of sasshing and borders to use.  I also embroidered the name of each friend on the block she had created. 
     Then came sewing time.  It is three weeks later, and only two rows are sewn together.  I still have to finish sewing the blocks together, lay it out on the backing  (no batting, as this is a crazy quilt), either quilt the front and back together or tack it, and finally attach a binding.
      I could have completed these steps in the last three weeks, but quilt-completion anxiety set in, and my sewing room got cleaned instead.  Now, I NEVER clean my sewing room, lest I disturb the sewing gods or discover boxes of UFPs (unfinished projects) which have migrated to the back of the closet.  But, that was the choice--face the daunting task of actually finishing a quilt, at which point the creative process is done, no further dreams or schemes are possible, or putzing in the sewing room, reorganizing all the scissors and ribbon spools.  I even rearranged the junk drawers.  So, tomorrow I get back to sewing the quilt.  Right after I unearth another project on which I can dream and scheme. . .