Here

This weekend there are no fixed plans a relief and a luxury after over a month of weekends on the go. Fridays are traditionally family nights so we had dinner and then Madelines and tea outside with the local wildlife.


Sofía is my nature chick. She reminds me of myself at that age. I spent hours staring into a creek bed, catching frogs and even more hours turning over rotting logs to see if I could capture newts. I wanted so much to be a herpetologist and to write for National Geographic. My own father saw his dreams of being an "ologist" in me. The last time I visited him he pulled out a record he found that was made in a booth when he was 10 where he talked about wanting to become a scientist "geologist, zoologist or some kind of ologist." He used to hang out around the staff entrance of the Museum of Natural History in Washington DC hoping to learn more about the things he found, and he learned how to do taxidermy from one of the scientists who must have seen some potential in him. The sound of his young hopeful voice made me very sad. College was so far out of the reality of anyone in his family and he never managed to make it there. He had a family to support instead. I grew up with snakes and lizards and preserved these pets when they died in the formaldehyde my dad kept in his closet. I regret never having been challenged in science and I do think a lot of it had to do with being a girl. Sofia announced this evening that she wants to be "a natural scientist that studies frogs and toads" that would be a herpetologist! No pressure, but it would be cool!

The only fixed plan I have this weekend is to go see Marjane Satrapi with Micaela. My very good friend Adam gave Micaela her first book a few years ago. We have yet to see the movie, but Micaela is looking forward to getting her book signed for her collection of books signed by women authors including Isabel Allende and Gloria Steinem(a picture of her getting the book signed and she wasn't 9 she was 4!). The only man in the group is Ira Glass who we saw earlier this year.

I'm feeling rather insular these days...I'm trying to be here in my life even when it sucks, which the 8-4 part definitely does. This too shall pass.

Heaven

Today was spectacular. The weather was perfect and I was on my own. My mom and stepdad took the kids to a horseshoe tournament. My stepfather just so happens to be ranked 4th in high ringer average in the world. So he's pretty serious about horseshoes. Before I met him I had no idea horseshoes was a bona fide sport. Micaela was scoring the tournament today to make a few extra bucks.

I headed for Dupont Circle, an area of Washington DC that I know very well and that holds lots of memories for me. It is my favorite neighborhood in DC, and while I know I could never afford to live there it is probably one of my top five places that I would like to live. Maybe number one considering it is right near my family. I bought Jane Hirshfield's newest book of poetry for reading with coffee later in the day, ate lunch, and then I headed up to S St. specifically for this:

I saw a gorgeous exhibition of central Asian tent bands. The colors, the textures, the insane amount of work that went into these practical works of art!! I so wanted to take pictures, but alas no pictures in the gallery. Not so in the gift shop where I saw books on natural dyeing and knitting and spinning that I had never seen before. Plus the textiles for sale were museum quality themselves with prices to match. I didn't buy, but I did admire. This is just one corner of the store.
From here I walked to another favorite neighborhood, Adams Morgan, where Madame's Organ is still to be found keeping watch over Columbia Rd.
Coffee, poetry reading and writing ensued before walking back down the hill.

More wall art in Adams Morgan

Everywhere I went I felt like I was going to bump into my 16 year old self dressed in a dirty black slip on her way to the nearby hotel to wash herself in the "public" bathroom sinks off the lobby. Or maybe my somewhat older 18 year old self dirty and sweaty from working as a bike courier locking my bike to a parking meter for the dash into a building with a delivery. This trip home has been all about the past. I've met up with various people I haven't seen in over 20 years and for the most part it has made me feel good about the direction my life took. Still, there is a bittersweet sense of my youth and being in such a beautiful, walkable city makes me yearn to live here again.

On my way back to the car I took this picture and then realized, when I got to the end of the block, that this house was only three or four down from the abandoned house where I squatted with some other kids when I was 16. I walked down this street a few weeks ago when I went out to dinner with some friends and couldn't place exactly which house it was. Once this street was so familiar to me, now I can't place it a few weeks later. It all looks so posh and upscale now!

One last picture before I got in the car. I've always loved the National Headquarters of the Supreme Council of Scottish Rites right behind me, but I didn't do such a great job of getting it in.

I think I got some sun today.

Redwork Redux

I've been doing a bit of embroidery lately as I am tired of knitting. I started this last night and finished her this morning. We're calling her Miss Meow. I copied her off of a greeting card with a few modifications. I think I will send her on to my niece.

While stitching away I remembered a gorgeous redwork quilt I received for my 10th birthday. the Kliban Cats were very popular then and I asked for a Kliban quilt. My mother and aunt instead made me a redwork quilt with 16 panels, each depicting a cat in a different position. It had my name as well as theirs embroidered into the curves of different cat's tails. That quilt left home with me and my boyfriend and I slept together under that 10 year old girl quilt for 5 years. I have no idea what happened to it after we split up which makes me sad.

While sewing the front and back piece together I had to look up something in my sewing machine book. The machine belonged to my grandmother, who died when I was 13, and I found some notes she made in her lovely slanted cursive script. I felt at that moment very close to all the women in my family.

Finally, I thought it might be nice to look out from the screen for a change. Note crooked glasses...oh and new expression lines!