learning something new

i remember when Project Alabama started. i read about it in a magazine and thought it was very amazing: using new and old t-shirt material, all local artists and seamstresses to create these really unusual t-shirts. all in Alabama, the brainchild of Natalie Chanin, a fashion designer.

and then i forgot about it.

then a local fabric store (actually the only one i use) sent out email announcing a workshop with Alabama Chanin, book included, t-shirt kit to start, interesting sewing tips to learn. i couldn’t resist. i know how to sew–i’ve been sewing since i was 8 and i used to costume theatrical productions and musical performances, but i love hand sewing. so i signed up for my daughter, just having finished her junior year in high school and for me.

when we arrived and got our books and kits, to my surprise, Natalie Chanin started talking and i began to make to make the connection. she no longer is part of Project Alabama (they do not make their t-shirts in the US and she has severed her ties with them) but she is all Alabama Chanin. everything they make is sewn by hand by seamstresses in Alabama, everything they use is made in the US. everything they use is used for a specific reason or reasons (for instance, the thread is button thread, heavier than normal, cotton with a polyester core so it won’t just fall apart the first time you wash the garment…but you have to use a #9 needle).

Alabama Chanin made the tree skirt for the White House Xmas tree last Xmas. Twenty-two seamstresses spent three weeks sewing the tree skirt, which measures 14 feet in diameter, has 13 panels and weighs about 28 pounds.

i am interested in her outlook in the world and her love for her craft. and my daughter, who says that she cannot sew, enjoyed the workshop and is working away on her tshirt.

so that is a picture of my tshirt as far as i’ve gotten. i’ll be cutting out the centers of the stitched areas to expose light green fabric.

here’s her newest book with her signature. there are recipes as well as projects in the book.

the best thing she said in the workshop? ‘if you make a mistake, what’s going to happen? nothing. just fix it or start over. it’s not like the world is coming to an end.’

 

body

although my struggle with cancer began in July 2008 i am only now beginning to truly write about its impact on my life intimately. for quite awhile i avoided writing about it at all as if that would make the situation end. obviously that will not happen. Barring a major miracle (which i do not rule out), this cancer will, unfortunately, interfere with my life until i die.

therefore, i’ve begun a series of pieces starting at the very core of me and working outwards, describing my life and coming to terms with my life as it will be. this first piece is ‘my body’.
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my body.

it is almost unknown to me now, amusing to dress and undress like a doll
my clothes slip on and if i stand quite still sometimes my clothes only touch
my shoulders and waist
i don’t unfasten my pants but slide them off

i stand at the bathroom mirror naked
my hair once a mass is now thin & sleek against my head
i find it scattered on the rug & on my pillows
it’s not all falling out just part and it is now short
thirteen inches had to go because
when i washed it
it pulled my head over and hurt my neck

my face has cheekbones and hollows where there have always been
rounded curves baby fat even at 40
and when i smile there are crinkles
around my eyes and mouth
if i turn sideways i can see all the bones in my shoulders
my ears hurt when i sleep pushing against the pillow
can you lose fat on your ears
i know feet can because my shoes do not fit
there are sinews on my neck and loose skin but when i smile mostly sinew
if i had no hair my eyes and ears would be all that people would see

j says i’m beautiful but i see pity in his eyes and i know he remembers
how I looked before
i think i could enter the latest supermodel search because
i am exactly what they are looking for

i stand at the bathroom mirror naked
& see deep hollows above my collar bones
scars one straight one small over my right breast
my port
for the drugs that pour into my body
every two weeks into this body
that didn’t even eat fast food for 7 years

the scar from my surgery is a straight line down my stomach
belly button to pubic hair
no laparoscopic for me for the surgeon to remove tumors and organs
but no scar from the biopsy that was over and done so quickly

my breasts are almost gone
part of the body fat that disappeared after my surgery
every rib is visible
an odd feeling for someone who worried about her weight
most of her life

between the ribs and hips and hollows
my waist as if i had been tortured with a corset
my hip bones jut out
and my legs do not touch each other knobbly knees
i try to exercise but there is slack skin on my thighs on my arms old skin
chicken skin that wasn’t there 2 months ago

i am fascinated by my arms
i can see every vein and artery near the surface
and if i drag my finger across the skin it wrinkles the way my grandmother’s skin wrinkled in the hospital before she died

but i can only look dispassionately
at this body
surely it can’t be mine

 

A song…

living in Nashville TN, it’s hard to avoid the whole songwriter thing, especially when your friends know you write poetry and ask you to perhaps try your hand at lyrics. it’s seductive, this lyrics thing because most of the lyrics out there are bad and you know because you have a half-decent grasp of the language, you could do far better.

the result?

this is the first cut of a song, I was ever made for you, music by Charlene Ava (NY) and lyrics by senua. i emailed the mp3 to the group because wordpress doesn’t allow mp3 downloads unless you pay extra for the privilege. if you are interested in the song, please contact me at jeanne@moses.com.

Lyrics:

(Refrain)
there’s nothing that’s not been taken
there’s nothing special that’s not been here before
there’s nothing that’s not been wakened
there’s a fire in the sky a moon in the water
and i was ever made for you

shards of our lives fall like so much rain
can you keep me sane
can you hold me together for a little while
can you hold me inside

(refrain)

litter of our life scattered around
in dimming twilight that i’ve found
some say goodbye those PR mystics
i choose to hold on just a little while

(refrain)

when all is said and done
when you think you’ve said goodbye and you are but one
watch the dust devils whisk the shards away
hold on just a little while

(refrain)

and we stand just we two
and it may go on forever and there may be nothing new
and the emptiness winds around us like a blanket
but i was ever made for you

(refrain)

 

Hedgehogs

I grew up in the 70s with a mother who was far ahead of her time. We had an organic garden, raised sheep, goats, chickens, composted, conserved water and fuel. She taught us to be survivalists—my sister lived in a tent one whole summer, coming in only to use the bathroom.

When I moved to the city after college, I couldn’t stand the lack of animals. I had my dog Cissy and cat Buford, but really, I was only getting started. When I moved in with the man who is now my ex-husband, we had a total of 3 cats and a dog. After the kids were born and articulate, I added two guinea pigs and a rabbit. When my oldest, Jackson, was 8, he had read all the Redwall books published at that point and longed for a hedgehog (an African pygmy, not European), so his father said no and I bought one anyway.

Over the years, we added a Siberian Hamster, Madagascar hissing cockroaches, a mandarin salamander, a tomato frog, more hedgehogs, a chinchilla, two cockatiels, five more dogs, six cats (as the original animals reached the end of their life spans).

So with that introduction, here’s the story of our hedgehogs IN our house.
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We have hedgehogs living in our house. Before I go any further, let me explain that we are not talking about the endangered European hedgehogs that are the size of American ground hogs—our hedgehogs are African pygmy hedgehogs that are bred in captivity as pets. They are usually the size of your hand, covered in tiny bendable spines (not quills, like porcupines, although if you step straight down on one of those tiny bendable spines, they certainly feel like a porcupine quill) with shiny obsidian eyes and nose. Their underbellies are soft. Hedgehogs are notoriously solitary in nature, although you can teach them to be somewhat social. And they do roll into a tight ball when frightened or threatened.

So we have hedgehogs in our house, and when I say in our house, I mean literally in the house, between the first floor ceiling and the second story floor. Someone (that would be me) had conceived of the bright idea to make the knee-wall closet in my son’s bedroom into a space for hedgehogs. It was hedgehog heaven, with tunnels, carpet, soft places to sleep. And because we had two males, I thought that it would provide enough room for the two of them to avoid each other.

Conversation at breakfast:
Son: Cogs is chasing Ferdie.
Mother: Well, do they seem like they’re hurting each other?
Son: Ferdie is squeaking.
Mother: Perhaps they have to work out a dominant/submissive thing like dogs. (Like I would know)
Son: No one is bleeding.
Mother: Then don’t worry about it.

Two weeks later:
Son: I can’t find the hedgehogs.
Mother: What do you mean, you can’t find the hedgehogs?
Son: They aren’t in their space.
Mother: Where did they go?
Son: I don’t know.
Daughter (from the living room): Hey, there’s a hedgehog in here!

So, at this point, we knew that Cogs was able to squeeze through tiny spaces next to the heating conduit and waltz down the stairs, although I prefer to think that he just rolled in a ball and went for it. But we still didn’t know about Ferdie…until my son found the hole in the wall. There was absolutely no way to retrieve the hedgehogs after that. You wouldn’t think that something so, well, ball-like could move that fast, but like crocodiles, they are very deceptive: when need be, they stand up on those skinny little legs and do the 100-yd dash. Even when they came for food and water, they moved too fast for us to get to them before they scurried back into the hole.

Fast forward one month. My partner and I were admiring her office that we had repainted and set up.
Partner: Baby hedgehog!
Me: Huh?

It seems that the breeder had been incorrect on Ferdie’s sex and he was a she and that chasing was actually hedgehog foreplay. So now we had two adult hedgehogs between the ceiling and floor and possibly up to 3 more baby hedgehogs. In truth, only one more baby appeared (in the downstairs bathroom), and thank goodness we were able to catch Ferdie (hedgehogs can reproduce at a rate approaching rabbits), but we have misplace Cogs again. We knew he was scheming when we caught him doing some sort of free climb across the ceiling of his cage heading towards the opening in the middle. On the bright side, we have no bugs in the house. Handy little insectivores.