In The Middle

Well, hello again! Things got a little crazy around here since my last post. Go grab yourself a cuppa and I'll do my best to get you up to speed. Oh, better throw a shot of something tasty in it since this is going to be a long post.

How to begin...hmmm...

Do I start right in with news of the end of my 27 year relationship with Mr. PurpleBoots? Or should I tell you all about the bright and shiny human being that crossed my path one September day that finally prompted the ending? I could give you all the back story that brought me to the point of taking the leap of faith, how scary it is to actually jump when you're safely perched on the edge of something familiar but that isn't really working? Perhaps you'll wonder how all this impacted Not-So-Little PurpleBoots? And what about the springy things? I could go on and on about how painful it is to see the ache of seperation on the face of your child and hard it is to go from being a full time mother to nothing, as the boy and the dogs stayed with their Dad. I could roll my eyes and recount tales of all the juicy gossip that I've stirred up here in small town Nova Scotia. I could try to establish for you the ratio that defines the numbers of people who understand and support the pursuit of happiness toward those who feel it best to settle and simply stay.  I'd be happy to tell you all about the wee house I've moved into, it's very happy making and there is a new sewing space. Of course, I could always ramble on about all the noteworthy little moments that fill a new relationship with excitement, happiness and hope and there are an equal number of awkward little moments that come with a new relationship that haven't been experienced at all or at the very least not in a long, long time. 

There is so much news, and change, that it's hard to know where to begin. Speaking of beginnings, maybe there is no best place to start and perhaps this vague glimpse into my last few months is enough to tell you. Maybe it's simply enough to say I am in the middle of a beginning, and an ending...and the middle can be both a blessing and a curse.

Enough about the messy stuff...I did mention there is a new sewing space, right? It took a while to get things sorted out here at the new place...holy-stash-moving-hell! If only The Stashpocalypse had done more to reduce my hoard; bags and bags and bags of fabric have made their way here and I haven't even tackled The Closet of Doom up at Mr. PurpleBoots' place yet. The Robot still lives there too, though a plan is being masterminded to eventually get him moved down here to The Harbour as well. I've been granted the luxury of time in an amicable split to work out solutions without rushing to empty the old homestead. Mr. PurpleBoots is a wonderful human being and I am grateful beyond words that we are maintaining our longstanding friendship through the turmoil of seperation...so many couples lose everything.

Even once the space was repainted, cleaned up and my stuff got somewhat organized in there it felt a bit foreign to me. I needed some mindless sewing to help me find my groove. I dug through the scrap bag and came across the sample pieces I had made along with the guild in Pictou County when I led their improv workshop back in November. I pulled out all the bits and bobs, winced a little as I recalled the end of my finger being once again lobbed off by my rotary cutter during the class that day, and set to work. My wee house has a tiny dining room that has become home to the giant and whimsical painting of my dear old springy thing, Tetley, and some fun, bright placemats were in order. 

I've never before bothered to make myself placemats, but I had so much fun with these I think I may one day make some more; seems small projects are great ways to kick start ones creativity. So after the placemats were complete there was still the oblong element made with the word Hope in free pieced letters left to play with...an ideal sentiment to have as a coffee table mat for someone my current place of being. I put a coveted piece of Art Gallery fabric on the back of it and bound it with the left over Kona binding from the placemats.

It feels good to be sewing again. The hum of the machine quiets the noise in my head; the act of building patchwork and finishing an object engages the spot in my brain that reminds me that everything has a process. There is a beginning and an ending to everything...and therefore, there'll always be a middle too.