My neighbor doesn’t get it! “Why do you cut up fabric in little pieces just so you have to sew them together again? Why don’t you just go buy a blanket?”
I answer, “It’s a quilt. My grandma made them too.”
“But why didn’t you both just go buy blankets?”
“I answer but don’t explain very well, “It’s a quilt! It took me almost a year to create the design, cut out all the pieces, and hand- sew them together, then I put a layer of fluff filling behind it, then I add a back piece of fabric, then finally I sew the three layers together. It’s a piece of art! It’s a quilt!!!
I look at her like she’s crazy. She looks at me like I’m crazy, shakes her head, and she walks away muttering, “Why didn’t she just go buy a blanket?” Faun was born in another country and her grandmother didn’t make quilts. When I see me from Faun’s eyes I look UNHINGED! I laugh because I love to see life from different sides.
If my husband found a shirt he liked; he’d buy 12 exactly the same, and he used this same idea for the rest his wardrobe. I buy only one and if I like that piece of clothing I patch hole after hole, and wear the patched piece of clothing until threads can no longer hold the patches together.
People often walk to lose weight, but today by the end of my walk I had lost YEARS off my life instead of pounds! A several blocks from home the ancient elastic in my waist band decided it could no longer hold up my skinny pants. I grabbed my waist band, but already the potion of my pants, where the legs came together, was hovering just above my knees! I must have appeared to anyone driving by on my busy street to have been 50 years younger than I really was and made my living as part of a hip hop band!
The picture below is from, ‘Magic Suit’. It’s an adventure book for boys and action seeking girls; a beginning reader. When Paul puts on his suit he flies, shoots out rockets, and even saves his mother’s life.
Running Through Clouds.
At my home I saw mostly all but not quite a full eclipse.
As the eclipse was just about to wane I,
I walked, gleefully passing,
through trying to,
Stretching across the sidewalk, the spots of light,
fell from between quivering leaves above.
Thrown by the crescent sun, casting,
crescent shaped shadows,
As I played in the tree shadows,full of holes I saw,
I also was punctured full of holes,
caused by damage,
Lights from my family, friends and,
neighbors are casting,
I have friends who are six and some who are older than me,
and one friend who is even 103.
I have a male friend, a teen, who stood by my side,
when my husband died,
and he held fast me while I cried.
I belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter- Day Saints so I have friends of all ages. I hand made the quilt below while my husband was still with me in body. The quilt shows my husband with some of his young friends as they fly through the air in chairs.
If this is a portrait of you; why are you sitting on an open drawer? Are you all alone? Is the next drawer above you, also open, filled with spoons, spices, heavy with rare coins, or packed full of deep fried platypuses?
People are peeking out through holes in your clothing so let me ask you: are these people you, from ages past? Do you, as a six year old, sometimes play with your food while sitting in a four star restaurant because you’re again six and decided you don’t like the taste of something, although it had a pretty name on the menu? Do you pile the stuff up in an impressive mound then dive bomb it with your desert fork?
Perhaps those living with you, inside your clothing, are friends and enemies who have affected and formed you? Are they different functions and personality traits of yours? Maybe they’re zombie vampires eating away at you from the inside? Maybe their names are Smoking, or Over Eating Brownies, or Alice?
Are the white spots in the sky area clouds or giant popcorn pieces? Have the popcorn appendages, the popcorns’ arms and legs, blown off the main kernel, or have they been snapped off by the alligator, or startled into space by the strange sun?
Are flowers falling from an overhead moon or are red apples pierced by green pencils raining down from popcorn clouds?
Holes are drilled into the board that support this painting; holes being the opposite of protruding thorns.
Solid blue or multicolor bands hug both sides of each branch and the trunk. Is this music incarnate? Are trees magnets to music or is the big plant sounding off as it grows?
Are you up that tree? Are you howling at heaven, singing the blues, or are you punctured by thorns? I need to know.
Wouldn’t want holes in my head.
Hate holes in my shoes,
but holes in the clouds are blue!
“Enemy territory,” is a sentiment from C. S. Lewis. I paint flying firey serpents on my living room ceiling.
We were born into enemy territoryhttps://nancy-mauerman.pixels.com/featured/cake-necklace-nancy-mauerman.html
The Mad Mermaid Queen, Superman, And A Dragon 2: Root Animals
White roots are for some reason dangling dangerously down from the ceiling, and Anna says, “See those ghost tails?” I’m thinking; that’s silly so I shake my head, “Ghosts don’t have tails.” “Do so; they’re leftovers from dead snakes!” she says.
I say, “Ah, snakes are animals with scales, and they have heads stuck on long bodies… no tails!” My mad mermaid sister stands up, “Nope, they have heads on tails with no bodies, that’s why nobody likes snakes.” I say, “What? All I can say is; what?” She grins and nods as if she knows everything, “Snake teeth roll out of their mouths like rope ladders, so that’s why nobody will kiss them, and my facts are better than yours because yours ran out of words!”
I bite my lips and look up at the ceiling for Anna’s silly brain. “I don’t mean to be unkind, but your ideas sometimes sting, as they surprise me sideways, inside my mind.”
This is lifted from my new book, which will be available soon, and reminds me of my dead husband. “I worried when you were excited to paint flying snakes on our living room ceiling,” he told me, “but it turned out okay.” I love that he didn’t react, exploding with anger, when my ideas stung him sideways inside his mind!
Nancy Mauerman – Author Page on Amazon