i spent most of last week being sick, just a cold, but it had me pretty exhausted. i have trouble drawing when i feel really tired, as i tend to get frustrated very quickly. being the type of person who dislikes not being able to do all the things they can normally do (or at least having the option of being able to do them if i wanted to) i needed to keep myself busy. so i spent the week listening to young adult fiction books and sewing. i had a gift to make for a baby shower, a 3rd birthday and just some general cheering up to keep on top of. so i have been sewing stuffed pigs, owls and various monsters. it even inspired me to take the sheet down, that has been safety pinned to my kitchen window for 2 years and start the process of curtain making. i started feeling sentimental as i was working on my project last night (or maybe it was the second glass of currant mead). i started thinking about the act of sewing. i can’t remember when i learned to sew, i do know i was young. i remember making a smart little number for barbie that was a one shoulder wrap around dress with a ribbon belt when i was about 4 years old. i think teaching me to sew was one of the greatest gifts my mother ever gave me (besides life, housing, food, etc.). she was taught to sew by her mother, and my grandmother was taught to sew by her mothers/aunts. i can remember when i was little and being so awed by my mother’s craftiness and talent. when there was little money to spare for christmas gifts she would spend hours making small dresses for the 2 dolls they bought for my sister and i. i am still not nearly as talented as a seamstress as her, but i feel like it is something that connects me to her, and my grandmother, aunts, great aunts, and even my sister. although my sister and i rarely see eye to eye on anything these days our love of sewing and reading is still a thread that binds us together as we drift further apart. it is something we can both grab on to as safe ground when everything else turns into an argument or angry silence. the act of creating something with love and meaning is so timeless. it is the same feeling i get when i slip my hands into the cool wet ground after the spring thaw. something that will always outlive me, and petty quarrels and worries become meaningless, because i am part of something much larger than myself. besides stuffed pigs are fucking cute!