Giant Dresdens Quilt

Giant Dresdens for Baba O, 62'' x 90''

Sometimes quilts are really hard to give away. And sometimes you are so excited to do just that. Not because you want the quilt off your hands, but because you know the recipient will love it. Then there are the times you are sad to see the quilt go, but it is totally worth it because you get to see your cousins you hardly see in order to pass it on to their family. Sometimes.

I come from a giant extended family. My mom, an only child, became the 11th child of her aunt and uncle because that's how things work in big Ukrainian families on neighbouring farms. So I grew up with that family as mine as well. And while almost all of the family was in Saskatchewan, there was one set of cousins with us in Edmonton. We spent a lot of time together growing up, dancing, eating, playing, tormenting each other, laughing.

A few months back they asked me if I would make them a quilt for the Baba on the other side of the family as they are celebrating her 90th birthday this fall. Even though I don't really do commissions I wouldn't say no. Plus, I got to play with some ideas and that is always fun.

Three big Dresden plates, made with the

Fat Cat Ruler

. Gorgeous fabrics and loads of negative space to quilt on the long arm. Pretty quick to get together  - I think each Dresden took me about an hour to make, then only appliqué time. I machine appliquéd, so that wasn't very long either. Just 3 blocks to sew together and long strips for the side. And that was it.

I have a feeling there will be more Dresdens in my future. Maybe. I might need another request from the cousins in the midst of the other deadlines...

My dot to dot quilting on the long arm needs a fair amount of work, but I'm feeling very comfortable with all over free motion work. It is quite liberating and such a thrill to have it come together quickly. For this twin size quilt I was off the machine in slightly less than 4 hours, including my loading time and breaks for texts and instagram.  I used what I call a Paisley pattern, and my long arm teacher calls  headbands.

I've used it before

, but on my home machine.

The back was pieced with what I had at home, including this Amy Butler print from years ago. I bought it for another project that never came to fruition. I was worried it would be too girly for a 90 year old, but my cousins assured me that Baba O will like it. A few extra inserts of fabric that was also used on the front to bring it up to size.

On the front, in the centre of the Dresdens I wrote out birthday wishes. This way there is no need to flip it over to see the real reason Baba O is receiving this quilt. On the back are the labels - one with wishes from the family and one with maker and care info. As I pointed out, the quilt is likely to outlive even them, so the history needs to go with the quilt. But thankfully my cousin's wife has very neat handwriting so she actually wrote out the labels instead of me! I stitched those on over deck cocktails with my cousins. A gaggle of our kids eating popsicles and popcorn and playing in the backyard. Our conversations full of the stories of now and yesterday. Love, history, and the future all coming together, thanks to a quilt.

Abstract Painting with Kids

While many of my American friends are seeing the end of summer, and the return to school for their kids, we've still got 3 more weeks of summer vacation. I've been trying to make the most of it. For both myself and the kids. Field trips, swimming, lazy days, and new creative activities.

Last week we started abstract painting. To be fair, I think the kids have been doing this for a while! But this time we did a bit of research on abstract painting, discussed emotions and their expression, and I used real, ADULT acrylic paints on canvas. Having fancy supplies goes a long way.

To start with, the girls picked colours to express an emotion. Our first emotion was happy. Yellows, oranges, red, pink, turquoise, and silver. Bright, shiny colours. My only bit of control over the project was that I doled out the colours on the canvas. So I dotted it where they told me. Then they went to town.

They ground the paint into the canvas, they gingerly spread the paint, they used broad strokes. They played. And I resisted - badly - all attempts to direct their activities. That was very, very difficult. In part I wanted to participate. I also wanted to interrupt and give directions constantly. But I held off and only spoke when adding more paint or to emphasize the emotion they were conveying.

They filled the canvas, making sure no white spots remained. They touched it up with silver. And then, because they didn't quite get the notion of abstract, they added some lettering.

You know what? They were happy doing it. And I was happy watching them. It was a new form of creativity in this house. I think my oldest, especially, loved the idea of expressing something without having to be literal in her art. Because when you are 8 you are usually literal. This gave her an unexpected freedom.

The whole idea for the project came through Pinterest.

Yes, I've finally joined Pinterest

. And lo and behold, I saw this idea on a random pin one of the first days I was on there. No instructions, just the image of the paint dots, painting, and the canvas. Because Pinterest is still new for me I actually acted  on the inspiration!

To start with we looked up some abstract painters, classic and current. Like

Kandisky

,

Lisa Congdon

, and

Marissa Anne from Creative Thursday

. We talked about what one can do with just paint and about expressing feelings or ideas. It all felt rather liberating.

We've since done more canvases. (A friend of mine gave me the tip that we could buy small canvases at the dollar store. That certainly cuts down on the cost once we invested in the paints.) I still police the paint use as a certain Evil Genius has a tendency to want to use ALL the paint. I do not, however, paint myself with them. I find my kids compare my work with theirs and I don't think that is fair to them at all. They skip the adult versus kid part of that and get deflated because they perceive mine as better. So I let them be and wander around their own creativity.

If you are on Pinterest,

you can follow me

. I am trying to fill my boards with all sorts of inspiration. More pins daily. And let me know if you are on there too.

A Big Push

I did it and no one else made me.

Confession: I have a hard time really pushing myself physically. There were various times in my youth when, as a competitive athlete, I was able to push my body and mind to exertion. But once the competition was gone I found little motivation. Even when I injured my knees four years ago I was rather complacent about my therapy. It was enough to go through it to get myself to the point of full extension and walking without a cane, not to get back on my mountain bike or on a ski hill again.

Now I am faced with being the mother in a very active family. My girls will give me a pass on activities because I'm big and my knees are bad. And it kills me every time. They mean no harm, I know it, but it stabs at my heart when they dismiss my physical capabilities. Mostly, because they are right.

On the weekend we took a family trip to Revelstoke, BC. Last year we'd spent a few hours at the

Sky Trek Adventure Park

on our way through. Ever since then the girls have been bugging us to go back. We ended up there with my brother and his family, as they were returning from a road trip of their own. The kids ran around the jungle gym like maniacs for hours, they did the kids version of the high ropes course, they climbed and climbed and climbed the tower climbing walls, and they screamed with delight the entire time. And while they spent the first few hours doing all this my SIL and I watched them, watered and fed them, and took loads of photos.

Well, she mostly did that as I was stuck in the car with a napping toddler and hand stitching.

And for the first few hours my Hubby, brother, and one of my nephews did the high ropes course. When they finished I would have been fine to let the kids do their thing for a bit and we all could have gone for an ice cream cone. My SIL had other plans.

She made a very valid point - why should the kids see the men do the scarier thing while we didn't? What message were we sending to the kids, especially the girls? Don't we owe it to ourselves to push the limits, and show them that we can do it to. And, she wouldn't have done it alone.

I was so unprepared for this challenge that I only had sandals. So I had to borrow my Hubby's kicks before I could even start. No excuses now.

I'm not going to lie, I was filled with anxiety the entire time. The pain in your chest that makes you wonder if that's what a heart attack feels like kind of anxiety. I am not afraid of heights really. Rather, I am afraid of falling. So, I can be high upon the CN Tower, but the glass floor induces panic. I can take in the

Glacier Skywalk

, but feeling the movement freaks me out. It is the fear of crashing down that gets to me.

(Tied very closely to this fear is a fear of failure, but that's a discussion for the therapist's couch.)

Safety training done, lessons in harness clips and zipline techniques, rules drilled into my brain, we went up the first ladder. It didn't take that long to finish the green course. I yelled at my husband once from a high wire, I clipped my safety harness wrong in one spot, and I learned the fine art of not looking down when my kids yelled at me. At the end of the easiest course I mustered all the power of my being not to quit.

I so wanted to quit. Screw the lesson, screw modelling the brave thing, screw it all. But then The Monster came to watch. She is a lot like me. And we struggle all the time to build her confidence, to encourage her to push herself when things don't come easy. It is infinitely frustrating for my husband, and for me. So when she asked me if it was scary I responded in the positive and moved on to the blue course. And I learned to breathe a bit easier, even if it had to be a conscious effort to push the anxiety out.

There was one point where I completely became paralyzed with fear. Quite literally, I could not take a step. Much to the dismay of the two teenagers behind me I had to backtrack and was lucky there was an easy way out from that obstacle. But I was also able to get back on the course. Assured that nothing ahead of me was any scarier, just more physically demanding, I forged on. That was the moment when it became about me pushing myself. That was when I started doing it for myself and not for anyone else.

And I did it. All of it. I'm covered in bruises and rope burns because it was all horribly awkward for me. But that's okay, and with me, to be expected. To be honest, I'm kind of in awe that I pushed myself like that. I know that for some people - like my my Hubby - something like this ropes course is no big deal. (And frankly, I do agree with him.) But it would have been my norm to simply skip it, to take all the easy way outs. To not even try. To be the mom providing snacks and ensuring everyone is hydrated but not doing anything herself.

I'm not ready for rock climbing or bungee jumping anytime soon, but boy have I learned my lesson. No one is going to make me do anything. If I want to push myself then I have to do it. And this weekend showed me that I do, I do want to push myself physically. It's time.

Friday Favourites - Camping

It's far from glamorous, this camping thing. A tent in the woods, gravel and dirt creeping in despite the no shoes in the tent rule. Waking far too early because the summer sun arrives at an ungodly hour.  Packing and repacking everything for every meal because there are bears and you can't leave food out. Not showering for days. Camping.

And I love it.

No glamping here. Just an overstuffed car and lots of dirt. But there is fire and marshmallows and exploring shorelines and bugs and late nights. And fire, camp fire all the time.

I can't deny the stress of getting ready for the trip. We have all our gear organized and it is always ready to just grab out of the garage. But I still have to get all the food and everyone's clothes. That always takes a few hours. Then my Hubby plays a game of car tetris to get everything in the car. And we argue about snacks and how many extra things the girls try to bring.

Then we drive. And the drives are always gorgeous. We spend half the time stressing to the kids how lucky we are to live in such a beautiful and awesome country. I stitch in the car, we relish the silence when the kids all miraculously doze at the same time. We curse the tourists stopping to take pictures of wildlife because they are always too close to the animals.

And then we arrive. It takes longer to set up now because the kids help, but they enjoy making things just so. And we're dirty before we even can think about it. And the maniac behaviour begins as tree branches become everything but, fairies are discovered in the forest, and frisbees come out. Then the fire starts and the begging for marshmallows begins. And I give in, because why not.

I must admit, I was terrified when we geared up last year and committed to this family activity. I loathe sleeping with my kids. (I love them dearly, but not in my bedroom.) But in the woods it doesn't matter. They sleep hard and deep. And when they wake us up too early in the morning I enjoy their whispers, until they grow into tickles and shrieks. The whole experience has been amazing. It far exceeded my expectations.

When we camp we bring no crafts for the kids, only a few activity books and things like balls and frisbees. We encourage them to explore the area around us, when we aren't hiking or trying something else.

We talk and watch and listen. To the woods, to each other.

We sit so still so the butterflies land on our feet.