Let the sewing begin

I spent a night this weekend laying out the entire quilt.  I've already sewn together the blues and purples, and I am loving how this looks.  I'm not the best sewer - I can't even seem to sew straight - but I don't care. 

Squares

I finally finished cutting out the squares, all 320 of them.  Seriously, fabric is so darn pretty and smells so good (mmm, spray starch).  Next step, pining them together and pulling out the sewing machine.  

140 down, a lot more to go...

Started cutting out the squares for a new quilt and then started getting tons of ideas for other ones...

Creative Bootcamp: Day Twelve - Smile

I struggled with the word "smile."  So I let the word smile become "hope" because those words are synonymous to me. 

During graduate school, our teachers often referred to our primary job as clinicians to be holders of hope.  Often our clients are stuck, life changes numerous and insurmountable, symptoms all consuming and painful.  And the truth is that life can suck, and suck big.  That's the reality that we sit with, hour after hour.  Add to that the pressures of short-term therapy pushed on us by insurance companies, well-meaning but ignorant family members, parents looking for quick fixes, and a lifetime of terrible things, holding onto hope is an impossible task.  I want to walk away often.

And then a client says something like "I am doing so much better!" or a child who used to hide under his hoodie is playing ball with you and talking about how angry he is.  I can't begin to tell you what a moment it is to think "holy crap, holy crap, we're talking about feelings, feelings!"  These are profound, fleeting moments.  Sometimes I can see those moments coming; I want to shout "I knew it!" and to tell everyone to be patient and trust the process.  But then I forget to trust the process, and I get impatient, and I forget those moments will come.  I judge myself according to other's eyes, not my own trained ones.

Bolts and Fabric

I have a strange issue with bolts.  Meaning, I seem to like to drive right over them and end up puncturing tires in the process.  I have fantastic aim.

The first time, I was driving back from a home visit in Dorchester.  I heard the clunk and kept driving like a loon because there was no way I was going to break down in Dorchester.  The second one I hit at eighty mph returning from NY to MA.  Oops.  We pulled over to the side of the highway (holy jeez, the scariest thing ever), switched drivers and headed to the next rest stop.  My husband put on our skinny little donut in the evil New-England-goes-desert heat and we drove 50 mph on the highway until we could finally pull off an exit.  Many thanks to all the people who had to swerve around us.  I documented it all for posterity ("this is so going on my blog!") and my husband gets the new tires we were arguing about earlier today.