Here’s the thing: I hate the gym. I have a gym membership, but I never go. And Covid gave me a get-out-of-going-to-the-gym-for-the-foreseeable-future card, except that now everyone’s decided to move on with their lives. Still I remain resolute in my hatred of the gym, despite my age, and the increasingly urgent need to get some sort of exercise if I want to maintain an active and healthy lifestyle. So I found an exercise app, downloaded it, and felt very pleased with myself. That was three months ago, I think, though it may have been longer, which tells you how much I’ve used the app. I’ll give you a hint – 0.
Until this week!
I can’t really explain what happened, but I’m very pleased to announce that this morning is my THIRD workout. Now, to be fair, when the app asked me how long a workout I wanted, I chose the shortest option they gave, which is 10 minutes and I chose “low impact” because they didn’t have a “sedentary” option. Oh stop it, you’d have done the same.
So the first time I used it, I started the workout and before the trainer had even finished explaining the exercise we’d be doing the phone rang. I really did have to take the call so I paused it and then “forgot” to go back to the app. It was rude to leave that trainer hanging like that, but I forgot, I swear. That was about a month ago. Last week I thought, this is ridiculous, I have to do something because standing on one leg while in the shower, really doesn’t count as exercise, or does it? Anyway, I did a 10 minute workout Sunday morning. Oh yes I did! And here’s my takeaway from that workout – who knew that in ten short minutes one could work up a sweat? That’s the first revelation. The other is that ten minutes is actually a really, really, really, really LONG time to be gyrating about working muscles that I didn’t even know I had. And my final revelation about all of this is that I’m really out of shape because the next day I was sore, though that didn’t stop me from doing another workout and then this morning another.
I know some of you are going to ask what the app is. I’m going to tell you, but just know that I don’t work for this company nor do I receive anything from them for telling all of you about it. Just wanted to be clear about that. The app is FitOn. I’m thinking there are a lot of exercise apps out there, I don’t even remember how I learned of this one, though knowing me, I googled, “Best exercise app” and this one came up on a list with others. When you first download and open it, it asks you, Do you want us to send you notifications. Now I know about this whole “notification” business, it’s really code for nagging. Basically they’re asking, “are you okay if we nag you?” So I said, Yes. Go ahead, see if I care. In fact I dare you. Nag away. That was Sunday and sure enough on Monday morning I get a notification at 7:45am asking me if I’m ready to work out. NO. No, I’m not ready, nor will I ever be, but how can I really hold my head up and say no to a 10 minute workout? I mean, seriously, I spend more time gazing out the window, so I figured, okay, fine, but I’m not putting on workout clothes or shoes, so I wore my bathrobe and slippers out of defiance. And that 2nd workout packed a lot into 10 minutes. Now all the muscles that were already sore were joined by others. It’s amazing how many muscles the human body has.
No one said this was going to be pretty.
This morning when I got that alert on my phone while I was practicing my French, I thought, okay, I got this and in preparation I even had on pants and a workout bra. TMI? Whatever. So I pressed “yes” and did an upper body sculpting workout that was 13 minutes long. See? That’s how they do it. It’s like a gateway drug. They start you at “low impact” and “10 minutes” and then they squeeze in a couple more minutes and before you know it, you’re working out for an hour. One has to very careful.
Now most of you know that I’m off to France next week, and for those of you who are saying, what? How did I miss that? you evidently haven’t signed up for my newsletter, because I talk all about that. You can sign up now by going to the right hand side bar of this blog and signing up now! By the way, I don’t have time to write a newsletter more than once or maybe twice a month, so just know you won’t get inundated with newsletters from me if you sign up. Seriously, look how often I manage to write a blog post? It’s been very spotty lately.
Next week at this time I’ll be in Paris! And I’ll have my FitOn app with me, because that’s the thing about apps, wherever you are, they are too. It’s a beautiful thing, depending on how you look at it.
Yesterday I released a new Youtube Video with the same title.
Go check it out!
There are a few other key factors to interpretive hand stitching, improvisational hand stitching, expressionist hand stitching or whatever else you might want to call it. I think all of these are good descriptors of my process when taking a piece of linen and starting to stitch on it.
The first few stitches
However at a certain point, composition plays a key role in how the piece evolves. It’s not enough to just stitch and hope for the best. Without a good composition it can look like a bunch of disparate parts, each might be lovely taken on their own, but they aren’t necessarily interacting well with one another.
More stitching added…
Another common issue is that one part can take over, drowning out everything else; this brings its own set of challenges. Or perhaps the whole thing is stagnant. There’s not a great deal of movement, so it’s important to know when these things are happening and why. Without knowing why, it is nearly impossible to remedy.
Once the large X was removed the two half moons in the upper right and again in the lower left began to dominate
The trick then is to resolve the “divas” and figure out how to turn the volume down or remove them. In this case, I had to remove it. Between the shape and color it was too much. Except that when it was removed, I was faced with a new challenge.
Piece without the darker shapes
So that’s where I am right now. I’m sitting with the challenge of having removed three domineering shapes. Taken on their own, they were fine, but when seen as a whole they were dominating. Except now the piece isn’t grounded. It’s lost some of its vigor. Partly that’s due to the removal of the color, which lended a great deal to the overall piece. So now I have to figure out how to pull it together, give it some excitement. And this is how it goes. There’s a kind of ebb and flow that inevitably happens when working on a piece like this. Take away some aspect and suddenly there’s a new set of challenges.
The key is to not give in to discouragement. To keep going no matter what. To keep trying new things. Thinking out of the box, pushing the boundaries of what I know how to do, trying something I’ve not tried before, test out other colors or reintroduce a color I’ve removed and see how that shifts the conversation.
This is the process that is interpretive hand stitching. Where one idea leads to another and another and another and on it goes.
Every now and then it hits me. She’s gone. I will never see her again. I will never hold her hand with those arthritic knuckles that made them resemble gnarled tree branches, misshapen and yet beautiful. I will never get another email from her containing silly videos or stories or photos and it is during these times that I feel both overwhelming gratitude that I had a mother whom I loved deeply, and unspeakable pain that grips my throat and clenches my stomach. That she went quickly and did not suffer is something I constantly remind myself. Still it’s tough. She was my mom. It is a loss unlike any other that I’ve experienced.
One of the most difficult things I’ve had to learn in life is to hold two seemingly opposing ideas and/or feelings and allow both to be true and valid. I miss her and am grateful she went quickly, yet there are times when I am overwhelmed by the pain of losing her.
Mom and Richard at her birthday party
Over the years this idea of two opposing forces has taken shape; a person I love has views I hate, yet I can still love them. Someone does something hurtful, yet I can forgive them. I do something hurtful and so I must make amends and then do the painstaking work of learning to forgive myself. And on it goes. Two seemingly opposing things held in each hand, both are true, even though upon first look they seem to cancel each other out, they do not. They co-exist and in that co-existence there is peace.
Someone commented on my Youtube channel about messiness, saying that she was happy my work area isn’t pristine as that would be intimidating. And it made me think about the various stages of messiness.
The gradient scale of messiness, because this is important.
1. Kind of “messy”, but it’s not a problem and anyway to my mind, this is actually incredibly neat. Everything has its place, I know where things are, it’s easy to work on my current project and all is well with the world.
2. Okay, okay, things are getting “messy” but really it’s all subjective and yes, I’m having trouble finding things, but nothing I can’t handle. Besides, I’m working here and a certain degree of messiness is to be expected and even necessary.
3. Messy is to some, what neat is to others, I tell myself, and I’m working and anyway I just grab whatever is easiest and closest and call it a “prompt”. However if I’m being honest it’s starting to be a problem and I can’t find things I want to use, though I will never admit this out loud.
4. The tipping point: things have gotten out of control. I know it, in my heart, but I still continue to work, despite the mess, because the work takes priority and anyway I know what happens once I start “cleaning” things up. Still this has gotten beyond “messy” and I’m spending more time looking for things than actually stitching.
5. Clearly something has to change. I can’t even find the piece I’m working on and so resolve to clean everything up… tomorrow.
6. A thorough cleaning is done. I carefully put things in places that seem reasonable and make sense to me at that moment. It’s all so neat and tidy, I hardly know where to start!
7. My work area is clear of everything but the piece I’m working on, only now I can’t find anything and spend hours looking for things that I knew were “just over there”.
8. Begin ripping the place apart in search of various much needed items.
Repeat steps 1-8.
You’ll be relieved to know I’m currently hovering at around a 3. Totally doable!
I was having coffee with a friend the other day when he began a sentence with, “What I’ve learned from the pandemic…” Now this is a dear friend who also became very, very ill when the pandemic hit New York City, so much so that there were a few nights when it didn’t seem likely he would pull through. This was before any of us realized just how bad it was going to be here in New York City. Before we realized that all of us would know at least a few people who barely survived and a few who did not. He is still not 100%.
What I’ve learned from the pandemic…
I’ll start with the easy ones.
Travel! My husband and I love traveling. So much so that when we first got together we talked about traveling the world with kids in tow, mind you this was before the reality of having actual children had hit us (Oh how young and foolish we were!) but we did fantasize a lot about the places we wanted to go and see. So in the next 6 months we have planned a couple big trips that we’ve been thinking about doing for years, but now are actually going to do.
I’m not a foodie. Actually that’s an understatement. I don’t care about that hot new restaurant that requires a 3 months in advance reservation. In fact I don’t care about eating out period. It turns out I can happily exist on a very boring diet of sameness for months and months at a time without ever varying it. The ice cream situation is a case in point. Did I tell you about the ice cream situation? No? It’s okay, I did a video about it that will be posting in another day or two. The same can be said about clothing. Comfort is everything at this point.
Masks. Here’s the thing about masks, I hate wearing them, I just have to say it, but I won’t be throwing them out any time soon. And while I’m at it I also hate wearing high heels, a bra and non stretchy clothing. In fact, underwear in general is annoying. However I do, on occasion, wear any and all of those things and even all at once. Okay, maybe not the high heels any more, but I am a woman of a certain age and I think that gives me the leeway to say, “No More!” Having said that, I would also like to take this moment to point out that I have not gotten sick, not even a cold, in over a year. That mask? Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’ll be putting that thing on again when I’m in the subway or massive crowds. And since I live in New York City the likelihood of finding myself in either of those situations is pretty good.
Germs are everywhere. This probably isn’t news to most of you, but I grew up in the country, making mud cakes, shoveling manure, picking berries and eating figs right off the tree. It was all considered very healthy and it was. Basically I’m one of the Beverly Hillbillies only moved to New York City. And now that I live in a thriving metropolis, washing fruit and vegetables is a given, along with my hands, to a degree that would make a germaphobe proud. Cities are basically massive petri dishes over flowing with germs eager to attack. Where did I put my mask? Did I mention the whole mask thing? Oh and also, hand sanitizer. Those are going right into my must-have-at-all-times along with some Kleenex, regardless of how many people get vaccinated.
Laughter. Any situation, no matter how awful, is better if I can find the humor in it. The Irish seem to have some sort of humor DNA that they’re born with, but as I don’t have Irish ancestry, just an Irish husband, which helps, but isn’t the same thing; mostly I’m left to my own devices on this one. Sometimes it’s hard and I have to dig deep, but that tiny kernel of humor is always there waiting to be discovered. Of course now, while I’m trying to think of something funny to say, I’m coming up empty. Humor’s like that. It creeps up and hits you in the face unexpectedly.
Family. This isn’t something I learned because of the pandemic, it’s more that the pandemic confirmed what I already knew. Family is everything.
Kindness. Again, not a big discovery moment because of the pandemic, but more a validation that when in doubt, kindness is the way to go. That and the art of not saying anything. This one is a big learning curve for me, but one of these days… Of course at that point, I’ll have to stop blogging and doing videos as well, because really, what else is there to say?
I did a major clean up of my work area because I’ve got a 2-day workshop beginning this afternoon, except that now I can’t find anything.
This happens more often than you might think. With the best of intentions I do a massive clean-up, methodically putting things away and then begin to work and can’t remember where I put things like my 6″ ruler or my chalk refills for my chalk pencil. So then I go on Amazon and purchase more.
By the time they arrive I’ve discovered where I put the other refills, the ones I spent at least an hour looking for and the whole reason why the I-need-to-do-a-major-clean-up idea seemed like a good one in the first place, and not only that, but realize I’ve got about ten more refills squirreled away in various places, like this little treasure trove. Who would have thought to look in there?! Seriously. And do you notice all the chalk pencils? They sell them as a 2-pack. Just saying. Obviously I’m not alone. These, the ones below in the photo? They’re the ones I carefully stowed away in this zippered pouch that I made last summer.
Here are the others, oh so carefully placed in this basket that I purchased from a lovely Senegalese man on the street here in New York City whose family makes them. (He doesn’t have a website, I asked.)
So now I have enough chalk refills to last a lifetime. Except that I’ve got them on “subscription” because they’re always breaking, which means I have to go on to Amazon and figure out the labyrinthian system by which they do those subscription orders and spend at least an hour trying to cancel the chalk refills. When finally I’ve figured it out and am about to hit the “cancel” button, another more ominous button comes up asking, “are you sure?”
What? No. How can I be sure? Who knows when I might lose them again and anyway they break so often. So then I decide at the very last minute that maybe I should just keep them, because you never know when they might come in handy and anyway I can’t be sure and that little button is asking me if I am, and now that I think about it, I’m not sure. I’m not sure at all, in fact I’m sure of very little these days.
Oh! And while I’m at it, it wouldn’t hurt to get another chalk pencil, because in this last cleanup I couldn’t find those either. And they do come in a 2-pack, how thoughtful, so… Let me purchase another one of those and I can even save a dollar by adding them to the subscription, except that’s silly because really how many chalk pencils can one reasonably use in a lifetime?
Evidently quite a few, if you’re me.
So there’s that.
Addendum: I resisted the urge to put the chalk pencils on subscription, though I did leave the refills on. I just thought you’d want to know.
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