Carol Larson - textile artist

I bought the suggested ergonomic rotary cutter and what a difference! Of course, the blade is undoubtedly sharper, too. I finished and mailed off the 8″x 10″ mini, which by the time I finished was resembling a potholder more than an art piece. Now I am working on the 12″ x 12″ pieces for the SAQA Auction fundraiser. This is Broken Wing 2. I am definitely into the broken wing series.

The center overlay on this is a piece of discharged red flannel from one of my early surface design classes. While I love this little piece and probably would have held onto it forever, it just seemed so fitting for the Broken Wing series. Worse case scenario, I can buy it at the SAQA Auction.

I am able to do nearly everything these days, but get easily reminded if I overdo. For example today, I attempted to haul a wet denim rag rug from the washer out to the deck to dry in the sun (yes, Virginia, it is sunny in January here). Ouch, that hurt.

Then I did a 5 minute free-motion on this piece and ouch that hurt. It is just re-using muscles and tendons that have been idle for seven weeks. So now I feel I have little choice but to make myself a cup of tea and go watch a DVD that just arrived from Netflix. It is my personal form of rehabilitation!

As many of you know, I have been writing a book for well over a year about my life as a tall girl. It contains a very personal memoir which is bound to cause familial problems for me, when I go through with publication.

Today, this became uncomfortably clear to me, once again. Twenty-four years ago, I first questioned my parents’ decision, made on my behalf when I was 17. I was told then by my father that if I continued to pursue this I would be disowned. So I grieved for some time, then picked myself up, dusted myself off and went back to my workaholic life because in my family that is the gold standard.

Dealing with emotions, memories, the journey, any of that is verboten in my family. It is all about higher education and corporate success. Anything else is perceived as weakness.

Today, I had a reality check reminder. I had the audacity to pose a rhetorical question to my BIL who sent me a racist e-mail. Foolishly, I hit REPLY ALL instead of just REPLY. That, as I see it, was my only mistake. I actively chose to not just ignore and delete such vile and incorrect information, but rather respond.

Family rule No. 1: Thou shalt NEVER have a personal opinion.

I was taken to task by my father, for over-reacting, not thinking before I speak and further for attacking my BIL, because he is entitled to his (racist) opinion. Wow, had I not just witnessed my 59th birthday, I would have thought I was five years old with cake frosting on my face!

After I screamed, yelled, cussed and sobbed,(like any 5 yr old would do) I realized, I will absolutely be disowned when I publish my book. I have always said my soul is not for sale and I continue to feel that way.

Sadly, the book is not about blaming dear old Dad, but about healing my wounded spirit. Yet the narcissist cannot see that. You cross the narcissist and you are dead meat.

I will publish my book, but not until I am finished grieving the loss of my family. And then I will be set free.

Time to get back to work, I decided yesterday. So I fused some fabric, and then cut a grid with scissors, which I had sketched with my left hand. The goal was to see if I could manage the scissors and “cut straight” and I did.

Then I found some screen-printed fabric from my early surface design days, when I thought it was cool to print my initials on the fabric (works for Gucci). I placed it under the grid and it was perfect. Little initial showed with instead wonderful movement and color. So I fused the whole kaboodle to batting and today decided to stitch it. It was easy as it is a little piece.

The next task was to trim it to finish the edges, attach sleeve and label. So I carefully measured as it is to be 8″x 10″ finished, and gingerly picked up the rotary cutter and cut. Well, chewed is more like it. I didn’t account for cutting through two layers of fabric, fusing and batting. I don’t have THAT much strength yet. I managed to chew my way around it…god forbid I should ask for help! But now, my hand hurts!!!

It is not damaged hurt (dr. mom knows these things). It is ouch, I haven’t used those muscles and tendons in a bit, hurt. It is take the afternoon off with a good book, and rub dit ja dow chinese (karate) injury linament on it, hurt.

Of course, it could have also been a dull blade; but I suspect not! So this is a good news, bad news thing. I am ready to get back to my work, but probably cutting through one layer of cloth is a much better plan for now.

By the way, here is the piece. It is for a CFA project; a thank you gift for an exhibit underwriter. As usual, my initial idea changed after I began to work on it. Initially, I was thinking 25-patch (you know, like 9 patch?) but by the time I finished, it looked like I have felt the past 6 weeks with my ‘broken wing.’

One of the best parts of this little endeavor was I invited Andrea Bocelli back into the studio and he graciously brightened this rather gloomy day.

I am still making good progress on the wrist front. Yesterday I cut half a pineapple with a semi-dull sushi knife. I couldn’t use a regular knife as my husband often sharpens them and I might be likely to re-design fingers.

Last night I fused with the iron in my left hand and pulled pins with my right. And I am now toying with the idea of re-knitting toes on favorite Koigu wool socks, that I blew through on my walks on the track, or even trying a bit of sewing. I continue to get stronger every day.

And in every way. Today I did two huge ‘taking care of me’ things. I resigned as a hospice volunteer and I stood up to a bully. Woo-hoo.

Four years ago, I started volunteering at Hospice after losing two close friends to cancer. I was in a stage of grief where giving back to those who really needed it filled me up. I started to feel unfulfilled two years later, and yet I continued on. It is considered a much more noble cause to volunteer for a hospice than say our local art association, or even SAQA.

Last year I just stopped going there, taking 11 months off and really didn’t miss it. I just went back in December when I thought I needed the interpersonal connection I had felt there years before. Then I broke my wrist and had to take a month off. I had just returned, 3-4 times in the past two weeks. And I got it very clearly, that my heart is just not in this work anymore. And the dysfunction was making me crazy.

At first, I thought to wait it out for six months and then reconsider. This is what I did with my career job. I did that up and down vascillation for 16 years!!! I recognized now that I felt this way a year ago, I feel this way now, only stronger, no time like the present. I wrote my resignation and sent it. Finito, done, relief!

Secondly, I received a hateful, racist, right-wing e-mail yesterday from my brother in-law. I had always perceived him to be a fair person, but he had signed his name and title at the bottom of this piece of crap. I fired off a response and instead of sending it, saved it to DRAFTS folder. Today, I was still thinking about it, so I pulled it out, cleaned up my anger, and re-sent it to REPLY ALL. What guts! What courage!

I recognize that I probably will not change his thinking, nor will I help their perception of me as a nutcase, BUT, perhaps he will think a 2nd time before he sends such venomous crap to my e-mail box again. Whatever…I feel good for being true to myself…finally.

It is such a hangover from my childhood to mistrust my gut feeling. Yet I am getting better and better, all the time at honoring it. At least with Hospice, it took me only two years and not 16 to get out.

Aren’t you all just so fascinated by my progress?! I don’t know about you, but I certainly am. Even though I have survived multiple bone-cracking surgeries, this is the first time I have ever broken a bone, by injury. It has amazed me how painful it was and simply continues to be.

On the pain scale of 1 to 10, I am now about a 3-4. It is not unbearable, it is simply there. I refuse to take anything for it for two reasons. One, I am holistic and hate to ingest chemical cocktails and two, I want to feel the 3 or 4, so I don’t re-injure and end up at 9 or 10 again.

So today, was my big sprint for freedom. I took the car out twice. I managed to shift into reverse and turn the key with the help of my left hand. All the other gears I got on my own. I also blew my hair dry, which is a biggie, because as gifted as he is, my husband is no hairdresser! Fortunately, this being the time of growing out a short cut, it has no real style anyway. He is a success at the wind-blown look.

The other thing I did today was hand-write notes at Hospice. That was big as my seated handwriting is now legible; while my standing handwriting is still cryptic. Whoever thinks of such things; seated vs. standing, anyway?!

Next on my recovery list is to get into the studio, and actually do something while there. I have many choices. I could fuse the pinned piece on the wall, patiently waiting since 12/11/06. I could do the ironing (not likely). I could start the whisper challenge which just arrived in the mail. I could re-knit the toes of 3 pairs of Koigu wool socks. I blew through all of them walking the high school track. Note to self…knit toes longer! I could do the lingering 3-4 pieces in the tall girl series or I could de-clutter. So many choices!

Instead of feeling absolute joy at the potential of getting back to it, I suddenly feel overwhelmed at all to be done. It truly is a careful what you ask for moment. Maybe I am not yet strong enough to hold the rotary cutter?!

Time to call 1-800-PROCRASTINATION?!

yesterday, i tried driving for the first time in 5 weeks and 5 days. i have a stick shift volvo, and i have not had the wrist strength to switch gears, or as my husband says, “grind gears.” this is the second injury in as many years that has now convinced me to buy an automatic, next car! we are not kids; we don’t need to be hot-rodding around anymore (like one could hot-rod in a volvo, anyway!)

I was successfully able to shift gears and drive around town. i could not however, start the car. a cruel hoax by the swedes. the ignition is spring loaded and tightly at that. so i considered my options of having someone else always start the car for me and that had potential unless i might stall at an intersection.

so instead i contemplated how to strengthen that thumb-wrist motion so I could start the car, myself and SOON! last night I found a piece of wood, in the wood box, the shape and width of my car key. so I just kept playing with turning one end while using left hand resistance on the other.

this afternoon, i went out to the car to see if i could turn the key. it is a 2-stage process with the first stage lighting up the dashboard and the 2nd actually starting the car. on the first try, i was able to light up the dashboard, but no further, so i reached around with my left hand and helped that stiff right hand start the car!

varoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom! I did it twice. I don’t plan to go far
for awhile, as my wrist is still a tad swollen and tight, but at least I can
go to the gym when I want to go, and get to hospice for my volunteer gig, etc. I want more confidence before I hit the freeway though.

My husband gave me the big sad puppy face…”so you don’t need me anymore?!” I resisted the happy face grin and said sure I do.
I can’t use the blow dryer, open the dog food, or cut food with a knife;
he still has some use around here!!!

next challenge is FUSING!!! tomorrow is six weeks since the wrist broke. i would say i am making good progress.

oh and i had the most annoying thought the other day. this would have been the best opportunity to have had some cosmetic work done!!! i was already stuck at home. i could have multi-tasked a face lift with a broken wrist. what was i thinking?!!!

I have made some great progress in the past few days. I have been going out to the car in the garage at least twice a day and practicing my gear shifting. Today I am going to drive us to the high school track and back, to see if I am now street worthy.

I am also typing with both hands…woohoo! It is unbelievable how much faster it is!!! And a tad more accurate.

For my underwater ballet this morning, I clenched a fist. I also have been stretching my palm flat on the floor, as I have now resumed my morning yoga stretches. Only three stretches in 5 weeks left me one tight woman!

With more and more normal activity, I am excited at each new day. I am thinking today I may be able to fuse the piece that has patiently been pinned to the design wall for six weeks. I generally use a hot iron, with a 14’ extension cord and my left hand, anyway.

One of the things I have been doing, while laid up, is proofing my book. This morning I woke up with ideas for two more chapters and sat down immediately to write. I pulled a binder off the shelf, with my right hand, thank you very much, that contains all the family genealogy.

It is not an organized through the Mormon Church library genealogy, but rather bits and pieces of both maternal and paternal family research conducted by various members. I stumbled across a page compiled by my great aunt, Izetta.

We think kids today have weird names! How about these? Lettie, Lottie, Lodimma, Dillie, Leticia, Lucretia, Lozzie and my personal favorite Sookie! My cousin named both her daughters with old family names. One is Louella and is called LouLou and the other is Izetta and is called Izzie. They are sweet girls with big names.

Small favors…hands that rehab and that no one named me Dimmie!

My mother used to say “too soon old, too late smart!” Well, Mom, I just got it that I could write my blog post in Word, which pretty much self corrects and cut-paste to my blog, since I am working with less than adequate typing fingers.

Today, I had a mini meltdown, after I was unable to pass my self-imposed gear shift test. I had decided to see if I could shift the gears, within the garage, without the car being in motion. I got it into first okay, but could not pop it from the neutral spot between the individual gears. It didn’t hurt; there was just no wrist strength.

It just bummed me out as I realized I have many more days of being driven everywhere by my husband, who I am sure would much rather be skiing, right now. He did report however, low snow levels at Tahoe and if I had to break my wrist, this was a good winter to do it. Ah, one good thing comes of it!

Meanwhile, today I did fasten my bra (backwards), and tie my shoes. And now I am typing with my right hand, somewhat. I also wrote and signed a check. It was not pretty, but done. So I am making progress, one day at a time.

I have thought that maybe I could sew with the splint on; although the rotary cutter is still a remote dream. I am starting to get antsy for all the work I need to do! Today a challenge quilt arrived in the mail, for my participation. I have until March 1 to send it on.

Instead, I will finish reading Obama’s first book, and eating those brownies made today as medicine for hurt feelings; the right time for comfort food!

well, i had the cast removed last thursday, at just 4 weeks, 2 days from breaking the wrist. before the cast came off, i set a goal of being able to drive, my stick shift car by today! what a dreamer.

the removed cast revealed an arm that looked like a chicken leg..scrawny, achy, bruised, swollen, dry, scaly and itchy. but it was no longer held hostage in 40 lbs of purple plaster, so i was overjoyed.

i now wear a velcro strapped splint, which comes off for frequent soaking in warm water, range of motion exercises, icing, massage, and general TLC. each day the bruising looks better, it hurts less, the palm reflects more lines and character, and looks less embalmed. yet the wrist swelling remains. i suspect it is part of the protective healing process.

this morning i was able to write a short grocery list with my right fingers, but driving the car is still a mighty big expectation. as i begin to make plans for a month from now, i am hopeful i will be able to drive. part of me knows that is entirely possible while the other part of me just wants to go back to bed and pull the covers over my head.

the partner to my goal of driving is to be able to sign my name. what good is driving if i can’t pay for anything when i get there? right now, the atm is my friend. the problem with that is my dear husband aka chauffeur asks me now how i spend money. since i pay for all my own indulgences; bodywork, acupuncture, gym fees, haircuts, etc. i don’t see how this is his business!

and that is another reason i need to drive. he has been an amazing, caregiver, cook, chauffeur, etc. he is tired, no doubt and i am frustrated. i need to fly the coop.

dare i dream that i can drive in another week? maybe two or three is more realistic?

the cast is off, the splint is on. the wrist still terribly swollen and painful predicts many more days of inactivity. my prediction to be driving the stick shift by monday was a bit optimistic. i didn’t expect to go straight to work, but still feeling a bit down about the recovery. i will shift my focus back to one day at a time, which really is the best way to live anyway. right now, the hand looks as if it has been embalmed compared to the other!

so for weeks, i have been amassing papers on the desk. it started in organized piles and then just became a melange of white. i decided, to sort through,this afternoon; as if to feel like i am really doing something; and really be relentless this time.

i absolutely hate clutter. i could live with dirt much longer than i could clutter. it is funny that this time sorting would be better than any other! basically, what i end up doing is making more piles and file folders etc.

even though computers were designed to supposedly use fewer trees, we frequently find ourselves printing out forests of stuff we need to remember or read off the internet. i recognized this gnarly fact a couple of years ago when i bought a smallish file box to sit on the desk for those essential papers. about 3 months ago i cleaned it out, and lo and behold, it is jammed again!

one pile that went from the desk surface into the file box was a stack of call for entries prospectus (prospecti?). by the time, i can hand-write and get back to the stack, several deadlines will have passed, and i can toss those.

i really wonder if i shredded the entire pile of papers, including the post-its, the instructions on how to shut down the solar panels in case of frost when the old boy is out of town, the postcard telling me the vet has moved, the article on missing mick jagger’s world tour, the two burrito club cards which never seem to make it to my wallet, my IQA membership card, instructions on taking care of the floor, which is not in my job description, some ads for furniture we will probably never buy, etc. etc. etc…i wonder if i dumped this entire folder into the trash, if i would ever miss it.

probably the only thing worse than clutter is someone who has to organize it. time for a bonfire!