T-shirt Dress Debut

Our church building water/septic system was compromised, so only one short meeting Sunday.  Knowing it wouldn't be the usual 3 hours, I wore my color-blocked t-shirt dress. Ridiculously comfortable.  Bright.   Fits me better than when I made it at the beginning of the summer.  John has lost 20 lbs since we started serious no-carb diet, me half that and working hard for it.  We want to be healthier, in-shape, better able to serve, go on a mission together.  That's one of our goals. 

Sweet Max Memories

 

All of these photos were taken at least 3 years ago.

As Daddy Warbucks in "Annie"

Thursday at work a peer from another office delivered a file.  I could tell something was wrong, she was teary-eyed, and when I asked, she said she had just come from the courthouse.  No details, but her son may have to go to prison, and she was heartbroken.  With my hug and sympathetic heart the words that came out of my mouth:  "At least they will feed him there.  You will know where he is, that he is safe, and that they are feeding him.  It is no reflection on you or your husband, he is there because of his choices.  Be hopeful, it can get better."  Her reaction:  "Oh, you are going through the same thing?"

Sort of.  Different detention situation.  But it is a relief when I know Max is somewhere safe, looked after, fed.  Dealing with mental illness in the family is hard enough, but throw in recreational drugs  and it gets worse.

Our Friday night date was visiting Max.  Simple routine of parking in our favorite parking spot, walking in holding hands, up the hospital elevator to the psych ward.  Leave cell phones in car so we don't have to lock anything in lockers before we go in.  Sign in.  Remember his pass code number to prove he wants to visit with us.  Wait to be escorted through two locked doors.  Smile at the big-muscle-bulky guards who recognize us from past visits.  Sit at a sticky table in the commons area and wait for the staff to bring him out.  Try not to look at other patients and their visitors and wonder what their crazy stories are bringing them together. 

We have an hour to share uplifting family events.  I told Max about my latest dry needling physical therapy story (nearly fainted this time, 6 hours since lunch and the 7 needles went in further and were a little more graphic-gross, tenting my skin as they were pulled out), the burden lesson I gave in seminary that morning (passing out to the students a life-burden:  earthquake destroys your home, you have terminal cancer, you are a victim of gossip, someone in your family is an addict, etc and had them group them into one of three categories 1) consequence of living in the world 2) someone else's bad actions 3) your own bad choices) and relate it all to how Nephi reacts to his brothers' bad choices.  

He laughed, and there were moments of real Max, intelligence, memory.  I invited him to come back to us, to remember what good family memories and the traditions and fun things we have done together, to be hopeful about his future and find things again that he enjoys doing that are safe and good.

John told him the reality that his roommates don't want him to come back to the house he has been staying at.  Burned bridges.  Looking for a re-hab situation somewhere affordable for him.  "Delusional" is a trigger word we have to avoid using.  Religious symbols tricky.  Quoting films and video games and his mixed up questions like "How did God create the universe?" and weirdness when he worries about the end of the world and how bad death hurts.

I bore my testimony that families matter, that he matters to us, that we won't give up on him.

Big hugs and "I love you's" and kisses at the end of saying good-bye.   Each time when I leave I reach out my hand and Max holds it as I walk away and he mouths "I love you" and my heart breaks again.  I am leaving him somewhere safe.  Were they will feed him.  And make sure he gets the doctor ordered medicine (Drugs are bad.  Medicine is good.  Words matter.).

There is a misconception that there are real parents with perfect kids.  Somewhere.  Maybe in Utah (thank you, "Raising Arizona" best ending lines of a film, ever!).  We parents all have something we are dealing with, some burden, some reason our hair is turning (quickly) white.  Mortality is brutal.  Experience is dangerous.  Learning is hard.

Interesting that so much of the joy we feel is associated with our bodies.  Good food, good sleep, good sex, good activities-adventures, good art (hearing, seeing).  Physical sensations and pleasures and experiences.  Having children--the creating of them and the watching them grow and learn and become independent--lots of joy there. 

Really & truly.

Needles

Appropriate title for a quilter's post, right? 

I have been in physical therapy for months, right arm, epicondrus-or something, showing off my horrible spelling skills.  Tennis elbow.  Painful to lift anything heavy.  Not allowed to push or pull or twist off lids, etc.  Getting better, sort of, but still painful and last week super-inflamed again, tight muscles, very bad.  I got a cortisone shot, and no real improvement after a week.  So we moved on to "Dry Needling"

Mostly couldn't feel the tiny needles going in.  Less noticeable than a mosquito bite.  But then after 4 minutes he TWISTED them.  3 out of the 5 were barely noticeable, twinges, a tightening, but two were like being shocked and he only turned one of the painful horrible ones a quarter turn before I yelled out to stop.  Afterwards I got an arm massage and then moist heat for 10 minutes and felt super relaxed, almost sleepy, mighty fine.  Typing right now is ok, but they warned me I could be more sore tomorrow.  And typically 3-5 sessions of needling.

Of course I asked if I could take the needles home to make jewelry/art.  They looked like earring findings, perfect wirey interesting tops (acupuncture needles).  When I can use my right arm again to create I will take a photo!

The funniest thing:  once they were in, you could flick them and watch the needles wave and bounce around, no pain.  I just couldn't move my arm.  No blood.  Really cool if it works...status report later.

Did you know: (Quilt-Like Art)

This painting/collage intrigued me, hanging upstairs in BYU's Art Museum, famous pop-artist  Jann Haworth, who according to Wikipedia "... won a fellowship in 1997 to study American quilt-making. She returned to the United States and took up residence in Sundance, Utah,"

 

How did I miss her SLC Pepper's Lonely Heart Club Band mural in downtown SLC?   Next trip, a MUST see!

Permanent Sharpie Tie Dye, No tying

Last night my niece came over and we did some projects!  Try this Sharpie pen on t-shirt coloring, then drop rubbing alcohol to make colors spread wonderfully!  Less mess than Rit Dyes...super fun.  This is Roxie's shirt!

This is the back side of mine, where it bled through to the back (I colored on the front)

One of my favorites

 

My front porch chalkboard:   Moroni 10:32 is the new LDS youth theme for 2014.

 

 

This painting of Minerva Teichert's is probably my favorite.

Great Grandma Talents

This beautiful crocheted pink baby girl dress is hanging in Aunt Betty's home.  She said Mom had one, too, once, but it disappeared.  I love finding things my ancestors made, things that have survived this mortal world, beautifully crafted, lovingly made and given away...

This quilt is hanging in sister Deborah's home.  I put the top together out of a quilt guild exchange while I was down in Ocean City while John was at a work conference there.  Packed my machine in the car, sewed in the hotel room.

I've been thinking about the drive/need/talent to create.  As busy as some people are, they do it anyway.  I love chunks of time, non-stressed days to do things with a luxurious-non-deadline way.

One of my favorite Utah artists, Minerva Teichert, raised a family while painting and illustrating true stories. (link is to a Women of Faith film actress portraying MT).

Minerva created with the time she carved out of living life of a mom.  She is one of my heroes!

Emma is a Chemistry Teacher!

This Ezra Taft Benson building is important in our daughter's life.

Good teachers (photo in Fishbowl, Benson bdg), good education...

And she met DJ here, in this lab room:

...because this secretary made him take the lab Emma was in, not the one for his major.

Now she is a full time high school chemistry teacher,

and deliriously happy!

 

Grandma's Grapes, for Mom

Stewart at School

His apartment room has a huge nice window

At Timpanogos LDS temple

At Demetter's home, wearing War & Peas t-shirt, thank you Aunt SaraL

At cousin Simon's football skirmish

Hiking Cecret Lake

QUILTS: Favorite Things in Common

Meet my quilting friend, Lisa Chin.

I love her blog, love her work.

And we both loved this quilt at Springville Museum of Art quilt show.

Was it made with this, lutradur that Lisa introduced me to?  Or something similar, to give that interfacing feel??? (NOT that I touched her quilt, but my eyes drooled over it!)

 

 

Suzanna is away at school