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This year I have four friends having babies. Of course that means- CROCHET!!!
At work tomorrow we're having a baby shower for my dear friends Elizabeth and Pattie. They are both having girls. I decided to make hat and blamket sets for them. I didn't finish the blankets yet, but I did finish the hats.
Here's the hat for Elizabeth's baby: 
And for Pattie's baby: 
Today is 17 years since my mother passed away. In some ways every year gets a little easier, the pain is not acute. This morning I cut some flowers from the garden, moved her picture to the mantel, and put the flowers in front of her picture. Marigolds. I went to work. Everything I did today, I took her with me.
Although it is easier, there is a sadness I carry in me. I sometimes think it will go away- there is not a day that I don't think of her. It sounds trite, but my heart broke when she died. My family changed- everyone moved away. I am grateful that my father is still alive. I am grateful that he found someone to love. He is 84 and in terrific shape. I have to acknowledge that I am sad that he lives in Ecuador- although he has a fulfilling life there, and I wouldn't want him to not have it. I am still sad not to see him frequently.
And I am grateful that my mom and I had time when she was sick to resolve issues, for me to see her has a woman, not just as my mother.
For years, perhaps a dozen, I carried my grief like a badge, like a definition of who I was. A motherless daughter. The grief was how I measured my love for her. My siblings are a lot older than I am. When she died, they had children and spouses. I perceived that they did not feel her death as acutely as I did. I was wrong and unfair. I carried my loneliness along side the grief. The art I make, especially poetry, came from this grief. Although today I miss her, I am no longer consumed nor defined by her illness and death.
She tried to teach me to crochet, but I wasn't patient enough. When I finally learned last May, the hook felt comfortable in my hand, like a body memory. Now, every stitch I make is a remembrance.
quick post before I go to work-
It is October and the large flocks of urban parrots are back in Highland Park. This morning, I got up super early and I was working in our vegetable garden- picking some arugula and tomatoes for lunch, pulling a few weeds, pulling out a couple of dead tomato plants. I heard them flying, first the squawking. (What a commotion those birds make talking to each other.) Then, they were overhead and magnificent- over a hundred parrots. The flock flying left then right in unison. I almost couldn't contain my joy. As I sit here typing, I can hear their jabbering through the closed window in my study. I imagine they found a fruit tree or they are moving down the street. In the house I used to live on avenue 66, they would roost in the backyard mulberry tree. I could see them up close. Brilliant green, shock of scarlet. (oh my, now they are even louder, they must be flying over the house.) These birds symbolize Highland Park for me. Hold that thought, I'll explore it later. Now I MUST get in the shower and go to work...
Quick post-
I'm getting closer... must go crochet more, must go crochet more, must go crochet more...
On Saturday the book club I belong to met at my house. We read Gabriel Garcia Marquez' One Hundred Years of Solitude.
As we talked about the book, we ate yummy food. Here is a beautiful pear cake that Ximena baked. You can order one too! www.classictreats.com
I read One Hundred Years a few times in collage, but hadn't read it in over 10 years. Even in English, this book has such a resonance. Everyone enjoyed the book- of yellow butterflies, candy animals, bones that that clac-clac. Ursula, the many Aurelianos and Jose Arcadios, Meme, Mauricio Babilonia. The politics and history of Colombia in gorgeous language.
Here's where I am with my sweater. I only had to rip 4 inches out, once!
