Tag: memories

#61 – Tornado Sirens and Big Emotions

Before I start, I wanted to add this disclaimer. I’m not against things that are good for the community. Even if they may not be my cup of tea in the moment. I’ve been struggling with all these big emotions swirling in my mind and these weather sirens were like my fear personified. I’m still working through coping tools for my neurodivergent traits and on the tricky days, loud noises are something I really struggle with. They scare me on a bright sunny day, even more so in the middle of impending doom. But I don’t believe for a second that the world should stop everything to address my needs. I am one person that is part of a bigger whole.

As I browsed Behr’s wall of paint colors, I picked up two paint chips one called Tornado Season and another Thundercloud. They are these two vibrant, moody blues. Bold, dark, striking. I took them home, and I even ordered Thundercloud for a project. Bold, impressive blues. Striking. I was struck by the realism on Tuesday as I was staring at the color in the sky. Coming for me. Enveloping me in the deep, dark blue. It was a blue that would permeate and color my skies longer than the storm would.

Tuesday was a complicated day. It began sunny, cooler, just fine. Mid-morning brought gentle rumbles of thunder that growled across the sky. The clouds darkened and night became day. It reminded me of the eclipse. Rain poured and the wind blew like a tropical depression that came through on our OBX vacation in 2012. The rain was endless, relentless. No big crashing thunder and no violent storms, just the relentless power of water-like waves breaking up on the coastline. You can’t control the tide and you can’t stop the rain.

The morning rain was the most intense rainstorm of the day, yet as thunder rolled again in the afternoon and the skies were brighter with lighter rain and gentler thunder, the local college in town sounded their emergency broadcast sirens. They either sound after the storm is upon us and it is too late to seek shelter or after the big storm has gone through, or my favorite after the storm has been downgraded so that you begin to question your sanity. I live ten blocks away at least from this college and I heard the siren and broadcaster over my headphones in my sewing room. These sirens are loud, intrusive, and in my opinion, are not helping when they go off at the wrong time.

As a person that is sensitive to loud noises, I struggle with these alert systems. The sirens go on and on and create a sense of panic in my brain from the cadence and noise. The storm was over but the alert kept going on. I appreciate the purpose and message of what they are trying to do with these alerts but they are so poorly managed that they are a nuisance. But the cherry on top of the cake was what came at 5 pm. My phone and older phone, which I use for music, along with my husband’s phone began to emit their own sirens. Three sirens went on and on as we had a severe storm alert, a tornado warning, and a tornado watch. Each time a small change was made to the watch or warning, being extended by 5 minutes, they would go off again.

The radar showed nothing. The skies were fine. Then the radar showed the storm clearly going in the opposite direction of our location. Yet the sirens continued from the phones. Next the warning expired and then our town’s tornado sirens began to ring out. It was over the concerning storm cell was going north, yet they carried on with the tornado siren. I held my hands to my ears and tried not to cry from the cacophony of noise that was building with no clear end. I understand they were trying to save lives, and I am not against the good of the community, but again the application of the tornado sirens after it was over, was distressing and confusing. There was so much confusion.

The sirens rang their final call and silence settled in. The sky to the north and the sky to the south were striking. The south was sunny and partly cloudy with white and silver puffy clouds. The sky to the north was a color I remembered. Thundercloud. It was dark but it was passing us by. I began to make dinner now that we were being told everything was fine. The water bubbled on the stove with pasta. Tornado Season. The sky to the north became as dark as the night with an eerie green tinge. The air was still, eerily still. I asked my husband if we were back in a tornado watch or warning. He said there was no new alert. Nothing. Nada.

No tornado sirens. Nothing. No emergency alert from my phone or the college. Tornado Season and Ocean Abyss clear as day in the clouds coming in like the tide. I began to make pesto uncertain if dinner would be served or if the alerts, the broadcasts, and the forecasting, were all about to serve us a surprise like none other. That deep gut feeling of something being wrong came. The clouds painted the sky above a color closer the Midnight Blue and the rain surged down. Thunder, lightning, wind. Power flickering. Big emotions flooding my mind. The alerts sounding in the quiet moments made everything scarier, there had been no pressure let off and instead it heightened the sensations like a horror movie frames a jump scare. The uncertainty of the sirens saying one thing and the sky another.

I’ve never experienced a day like that before. I’m so grateful that no one got hurt. No funnel touched down. Personally, I know I was overstimulated, and panicked by my own issues with the sirens, but more importantly, overwhelmed by the alarm sounds echoing throughout my personal life at the same time.

This year has been a series of big alarm bells. It started with my landlord telling us to purchase the house we were renting over appraisal price or get out of the hoops of buying a house impromptu. We’ve had some bumps along the road like car issues, a fridge dying, an air conditioner breaking, our homeowner’s insurance dropping us on the age of our house, etc. There’s been a lot of change and a lot of new financial responsibilities that are a privilege and an adjustment. But what is expressly weighing on me is my mom’s health right now. Some strange things are going on that the doctors can’t seem to prescribe a treatment plan for. Until we get to the bottom of this, I’m pretty scared. Like a constant tornado siren is hovering in the back of my mind. I’m not sleeping well because of it and all the change in general, and my fuse is short. So the well-meaning chaos of those weather alerts and emergency broadcasts ringing through the air, piled on top of the internal maelstrom I’m sailing through.

I’m thinking about my grandparents and their passing. Family history and health problems are creeping in my mind making large shadow monsters of worry. My mom and I have always been a thing. The divorce really bonded us together and the thought of her being really sick and the doctors not knowing how to fix it is freaking me out. I haven’t worried like this before. There has always been a simple explanation for any health issues she’s had. The way it makes me feel out of control and terrified. My mind is so loud right now. I miss my mind being quiet. That’s what I wish for amid those storms. To not feel impending doom from every level. It was quite a chaotic day. But who knew Behr’s paint was spot on?

Potato Technology’s Version of a Vintage Shirtwaist Dress

You will recognize this fabric if you’ve been here since I shared my Spring/Summer 2023 collection. I originally purchased it for a Christmas present project as part of my Autumn/Winter 2022 Collection for a pair of pants. I happened to not share it on the site. With the extra yardage, I made a blouse and a matching skirt I styled in 2023 as separates and a set.

This got me thinking, should I just make it a dress? So I did, I sewed the two together with mixed results. I liked the dramatic drape of the shoulders in contrast with the defined waist but the fabric is thin and I knew I wouldn’t wear it as a long sleeve garment. So I chopped the sleeves to a flutter sleeve option.

This felt even worse when I wore it as a short-sleeved dress. The dress was constructed well, the fabric of good quality, and the color scheme flattering but I did not reach for it. The sleeves made me feel weird and wide instead of cute. I didn’t feel like me. Have you ever experienced that with a garment or a project you have made? There’s nothing technically wrong with what you made or what you tried on, but it feels off. This left me with one more option. No sleeves.

So I chopped the sleeves entirely and that’s when I felt like I struck gold! It looks like a dress my Grandma used to wear. Shirtwaist dresses were her staple dress and I see why. They are versatile and practical. I can dress this up or down. I can layer over or under for different looks. It’s a dress I know I’ll be making again with a proper button placket and pockets for sure.

#60 – Two Red-Crowned Cranes

Recently I was sitting on my back porch on a warm July evening, watching the clouds shift and shape with the dance of the sun as their leader. They began the descent of sunset. The sky was painted with the colors of nightly splendor. A hint of pink and purple with the rays of light bending towards slumber with wide swaths of bright blue, white fluffy clouds, and trailing puffs of gray and slate.

It was one of those sights that change before your eyes without your eyes perceiving a change has happened. All of a sudden the sky was different, a variation of beauty next as the clouds drifted across its heavenly path.

A sudden change in the air pulled me out of the scene. A sound. A ruffle of wings. The pure speed of the flight. Usually, a fast-moving shape in the sky means a single goose or a group of Canadian Geese. You can hear them from their honking call. This was silent aside from the wings as they flapped in stride.

It was a pair of red-crowned cranes flying low across my yard onward back to their home, the open-air aviary of Keystone Safari in the next town over. These cranes are native to the Korean peninsula. I recognized them firstly, from viewing them at the wildlife park, but from the cover of the ‘ATE’ album.

I learned that they are a popular motif in Korean art, symbolizing longevity, purity, and peace. In Korean, they are called durumi or hak. Interestingly, they are found often in the DMZ between North and South Korea’s borders. They are a stunningly elegant bird to watch in flight, and fast! In an instant, they were a few yards from me and then they were gone.

The red-crowned cranes are native to Korea but that is not the only place they are found, their range continues into East Russia, into China, and has been found in Japan’s northern island of Hokkaido. I certainly wasn’t expecting to see them in my little corner of the world on that peaceful night but what an honor it was to see such a beautiful animal so close.

That’s becoming one of my favorite features of my house, the backyard is so quiet and peaceful. I can sit there throughout the day and depending on what time of day I see rabbits, birds, chipmunks, squirrels, bats, etc just doing their thing. I feel such peace and contentment. It’s like a reset of my mind.

Moments of K-Pop: Summer 2024

  1. Chk Chk Boom Music Video featuring guest appearances by Hugh Jackman as Wolverine and Ryan Reynolds as Deadpool.
  2. Ryan Reynolds created a pre-movie short that played at certain theaters before Deadpool & Wolverine that showcased moments of his friendship with Stray Kids, including the confirmation that he planned to have them in the movie but had to nix it due to scheduling conflicts.
  3. Skz Code 57 & 58 (Go! Poolside) in the pool with special water sports challenges and a guest appearance of Han Jisung’s unexpected water athletics and a water-logged ferret, Hyunjin.
  4. NASA shared a photo of a supernova with K-pop references and puns including Chk Chk Boom, su-su-su-supernova, and Red Velvet as it was Cosmic.
  5. Dance challenges with NCT 127 and Stray Kids at MBC Kpop.
  6. Felix learns sign language before hanging out with Big Ocean the first hard of hearing Kpop boy group. They do a dance challenge together and Felix writes them a letter.
  7. Marvel Korea brings Hugh Jackman, Ryan Reynolds, Bang Chan, and Felix together for a promotional interview.
  8. Ateez Toward the Light Tour begins in the United States. At the Arlington, TX show at Global Life Field the Texas Rangers create Ateez personalized jerseys and baseballs.
  9. Hongjoong interactions with Atiny and their phones at concert meet and greets.
  10. Donatella shared highlights of Stray Kids at the I-Days music festival in Milan like a proud auntie.
  11. Ryan Reynolds photoshopping moments from Stray Kids’ music video Megaverse into a promo for Deadpool & Wolverine
  12. MTV interviewer asking if the OST for Deadpool & Wolverine featuring NSYNC, The Platters, Waylon Jennings, Patsy Cline, and Stray Kids is just a long con for Hugh and Ryan to join a K-pop group. Ryan and Hugh declare their band will be Stray Old Men.
  13. Hulu announcing that subscribers can stream Lollapalooza in Chicago meaning I can watch the Killers and Stray Kids since the tickets sold out at once.
  14. Jin returned from military service.
  15. An Old English scholar translating the chorus from Work by Ateez into old English under a bardcore Ateez meme.

#58 – My Favorite Summer Weather

As I was thinking about this post this scene from Miss Congeniality popped into my head because I feel like what I am about to write sounds a bit like Rhode Island and that’s okay because it gives me a good laugh.

There is this amazing breeze today, fresh, clean, not humid air that I haven’t felt in over a month, and yet on these days I feel like I’m in a portal of memory. One of my favorite things about living in Pennsylvania and a climate with four seasons is that the weather changes. Quite often actually. We get cold fronts that scream across Ohio and things change in a few hours and I love it. Especially in the height of summer, when I’m burnt out on the bright sun, humidity, and heat waves. We get one of those cold fronts, like we did yesterday and the humidity clears, the sky changes and the leaves turn over and instead of storming it looks like fall.

It feels like fall in the middle of July! Instead of dangerous storms, we get gentle rain. The clouds in their kaleidoscope gray and purple changes the light to that spooky vibe of a cozy Halloween movie. It refreshes me.

It brings me back to some of my favorite summer memories. Such as the feeling of being 17 at my summer job at Geneva College on their Paint Crew, after a stretch of painting in muggy, non-air-conditioned dorms, when finally a storm breaks through and the cold front brings this melodic rain and I watch it from inside Memorial Hall. The lighting is so spooky, it’s hard to see what I’m cutting in but I feel alive in the cool breeze. I can’t wait to walk home in the rain!

The breeze coming through the windows of my home today reminded me of the sweetness of the summer air that I used to smell at my friend Cailee’s house as a kid. They always had the windows open in the summer. As I walked into my bedroom to grab a pair of socks, I could swear I was on the second-floor landing about the help Cailee clean her room again before she got grounded. Four Harry Potter books were strewn across the floor, the first movie had just come out. Like magic, I’m 8 years old again.

What’s your ideal calendar date? Is there a certain moment from summer or a change in the weather that transports back to childhood?

0

The Curse of Rusty Twill

Like a slinking shadow, the smell crawled through the air, around corners, through doorways into my senses. A stench. Burnt, rotten, the stank of a memory I wanted to forget. Alive in the darkness, its origin story, a wasteland of fashion monsters of dye. But what was it that was haunting me? Is its origin or its nightmare of an olfactory bouquet?

It began one innocent day, the day I met the monster of rust and cotton. On an innocent bolt it dared to rest its head, in the middle of the broad day, have it no decency? It was a fabric unlike any other. It called to me. Upon its skin was a color shift, a creasing of sorts that changed it from a monotone to a cacophony of lighter wrinkles depending on its movement. Oh, little fool you were then, innocent, blind. Dreaming dreams of Japanese raw denim and its way of embossing life on its fiber with wear and time. This was no Japanese denim. This cotton twill, was its foil, a disappointment wrapped in the innocence of Hobby Lobby’s fabric aisle. A devil creeping.

But our devil wasn’t creeping, it was clever. It hid its true form, pretending to be normal, a kind soul of twill and natural fiber. A fabric you can count on for pants, jackets, a workhorse, a staple. These were my dreams before the nightmare began.

Maybe it achieved consciousness? An impatient menace, you waited in my fabric cabinet as we packed up and slumbered in our storage unit as time passed by. Did you act out because you thought you were forgotten?

How could I forget how we met? It was one golden summer day, a day full of promise. A new life began in 2×4 frame and carpeted meadows that roam my floor. A washer and a new dryer. As I invited you out of your slumbering resting place, your weave was rough, and a little stuffy, but I thought nothing of it.

That was your warning sign, a marker of what you are. We walked together. I carried you down the steps. I wanted to keep you safe. Gently I washed you with my hypo-allergenic laundry soap. There were no corners cut. I welcomed you into the fabric family but this was no ordinary wash. Something changed about you in that water. You became a monster. Swampy. A whiff smacked me across the face.

In horror, I smelled the washer. A stench emanated from the room. What could it be? My mind raced – did something crawl into the washer and die? Shaking off the fear, I placed you into the dryer which was a deal with Winifred Sanderson. A cauldron of heat and dry air transformed you into a thing of scent not even a dog could love.

With the dryer’s final squeal, I plucked you from your transformation machine. A stink with strength. Fortitude and funk. Your form was different. Your threads were softer, malleable, and even toned. But your evil had spread, and with fear, I pulled towels from the dryer. They became one of your covens, in a soft amber tone. The smell, it was pungent, accosting.

Lost in thought I carried you upstairs and contemplated my fate. Was it the washer or perhaps the dryer? That old, squeaky dryer. What kind of mayhem did the dryer succumb to in its former life? Was it contagious? I shook the thoughts from my mind and tossed the towels back in the hamper, encrusted in a stench that made me question whether they were washed with soap or copper pennies.

But you, the problem, the evil in rust and twill, you, I placated with Febreze and time. I brought you back to my sewing studio and waited. Instead of getting to know the Febreze and fresh air, you woke me up to the stench of your fibers wafting from the room. You evangelized your rancid agenda and spread it throughout my room. A beast of smell, there you sat proudly, smirking at the work of your hands.

You were an enemy beyond my wildest dreams. A creature lurking in the depths of the nose. An odor I could taste, it lingered, it languished in my mind into paranoia. And that was what it was living with you after your second wash, you monster.

I tried to live with you, accept you for your true form but the stench of your dye was a war cry of all that comes from you. You lead the charge of fashion’s destruction of our peace. Rust is your form. Toxic, destructive, you had to go.

I thought you were going to win. Even with you out of my room, your smell lingered. A nightmare with no end. Burnt, acrid, copper pennies, a smell that dries out the senses like the desert of Fury Road. Why must you torment me?

You gaslit me. A smell that lived on. The towels held on to your evil. Third wash, a scream at the growing wall of your fortress. A sinister scent crept, it jumped from the towels to anything washed them with. An evil baked in. Will this nightmare end? What do you want from me? An enemy without logic but hungry for conquest.

The stench was set into the fiber of your being and I played right into your trap for revenge. Foolishly I gave you more to feed on, as I looked in sadness at the towels helplessly smelly lying on the floor. Could they be saved? How far would your campaign of olfactory pain carry on?!

Your rusty threads were a root system taking hold of me. I could feel them choking me in my dreams. A smell that could not be forgotten. A creature unwilling to die. An assassin of fiber. Mutated from fast fashion’s evil realm.

One day, when io began to lose all hope, a bright light, like a sword dropping from the heavens came to me. A plan. I hurried before you could imprison me forever in your devilish arms, running towards the light. I had to dispose of you and your ground zero stank.

With all my might, I held back your reach, your scaly hands from taking the towels with you. A splash of white vinegar. A bottle of vinegar. I drowned your sinister stench, I killed it in the name of all that is good and pleasing, fresh air rejoiced for the freedom to exist again.

Although you are dead and buried somewhere far away, I worry you’ll come back with your creeping stench. Rusty twill of my nightmares…I think you might be alive.

Candlesticks

I find inspiration abundant when I am at home, my “home” home. The way my mom decorates brings me happiness! From the colors to the textures, it is a layered cake. There are some pieces that are quite old and have lived full lives before they found their way here. Others have a story, a memory attached that I think of, or a purchase memory itself, on one of our many mother-daughter outings as a kid. As I look forward to the future of decorating my own house, the warmth, and joy I feel being here is something I cherish and hope to instill into the new home we are about to settle into.

Candlesticks of glass, metal, and wood drawn in pencil and oil pastel on paper.

What Does a Shadow do When the Shape is Gone?

Day breaks upon your expectant face, and the birds sing for you.

A cup of coffee and a table set.

Sunrises, newspapers, the melody of your voice.

I’m lost without your light.

Shadow, little, shy.

They tell me to keep going. Chin up, grow up but I still feel small.

Morning is not as bright. The bird’s song is hollow.

What is coffee if you’re not making it?

Little, shy. Goodbye.

—

And just like that, 4 years pass by?

Great White Trillium with Mossy Rock

Oil Pastel on paper. Sketched in pencil. Wildflower, rock, and weeds as I remember them on a late April day or early May day. To be honest, this month has been so chaotic I can’t remember when I went to the creek to sketch.

This drawing was sketched with a live subject, on the trail beside the creek in real life with the real soundtrack of water, birds, and insects buzzing. It was the first time in many years that I had sketched in nature like that and it was wonderful.

Drawing in nature, not only cleared my mind but helped me immerse my mind in what I was doing. This process slowed everything down for me and reminded me to go back to basics in my artistic approach. To take the extra time to draw careful pencil lines to indicate details I wanted to preserve, like the levels of the rock. To have that impression committed to pencil and paper instead of relying on an image from a phone or drawing something from my imagination.

From muddy base to jagged peaks where the moss grows to the lines of the leaves on the Great Trillium plant. It helped me remember where the light was washing across the form and what was hidden by shadow. If you would like to see more of the wildflowers from that trail check out April Wildflowers.

What is your favorite thing to sketch outside? Do you like to draw small details or sweeping impressions of landscapes? Are you more of a still-life or landscape person? I’m a sucker for flowers. I love their infinite imagination and stunning wardrobe.

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑