A Month's Worth - Happy New Year

December 2024

I took an unintentional break from this substack for the holidays. At first I was just forgetting to get to it, but then as December rolled on, every single email I received felt like clutter. And why would I want to clutter you? What a perfect time to pause.

As for art, I’ve felt good and done quite a bit. I got two midcentury chairs at an estate sale in November but they didn’t have cushions, so I made cushions!

At first I considered buying cushions, but my husband was like Brig, you’re sooooo good with fabric (shucks), you could easily do this yourself! I think his goal was to save hundreds of dollars by me making them. . . but then I thought, you’re so right! And if I make them. . . then I could make *seasonal cushions* and then all thoughts of saving money flew out the window.

my winter cushions!

Once the tree is out of the house, I’ll bring in the second chair, reweb it (which I will have to learn how to do) and then make the other winter cushion, which is a red plaid to match.

I adore this chair!

I also got back into knitting. I have been crocheting the last two years cause it involves a hook that isn’t sharp and projects that are easy to throw down if I need to be called away by a child or a dog. But there’s a very cute scarf on pinterest I wanted to try so I picked it back up.

I left a big enough hole for my very large soul to escape through, don’t worry.

The first scarf I made was definitely too short to look “casual” on my neck and not “uptight,” so it’s now Fran’s scarf and I’ll try again.

Now for the sad bits:

I’m so proud of myself - I made an awesome cushion set and I relearned how to knit and read a pattern.

However - when I went to make the cushion, I was so insecure in my abilities, I called my mom over to “help” me make the cushion, ie: please make the cushion for me cause I couldn’t possibly!

She agreed but only had a short window of time, so I researched everything about how to make cushions. I bought the supplies. I got the foam ready. I cut the test fabric. I set everything up! and then my mom spent the first half hour of our time together telling me why it wouldn’t work, that she hadn’t done it this way, that we shouldn’t do it this way, that I was wrong and we should do it differently.

(Don’t even get me started on my feelings about Nancy Pelosi right now, okay.)

So I not only had to convince her that I did think it would work, I then guided her in sewing everything *I had prepared* while she talked about politics at me . . . and guess what! My idea worked perfectly - but I had a horribly rotten time.

So after she left, I got the actual cushion fabric out and whipped out a cushion.

But I still felt rotten. I kept asking my husband “Why do I do this!?” Why do I think I won’t be capable of doing something by myself and then I call my mom over . . . who then spends most of her time telling me I’m not capable of doing something by myself. Ahhhh, aha.

And that scarf? When I sat down to relearn how to knit, I thought I was sitting down to “pick knitting back up.” No. My brain was empty. I didn’t know how to even cast on. I had no idea what the pattern was saying. I was horribly frustrated and sad because it felt like just another way the last few years have left me dumb and boring.

So I felt righteously indignant for a good little bit, then I made a standard scarf and practiced the basic skills. Once that scarf was done, I picked up the pattern and felt more confident in researching how to do each part. And then I did it and it was fine and it was good and it was fairly easy.

Now for the lesson?

Today, Steve was telling Fran and me about a Philosophy of Art class he took in college. They spent time debating and discussing the definition of “art.” His answer at the time was: something that someone creates with the intent it be observed or experienced by somebody.

My answer today was: anything we create to process the human condition. (Steve: “whoooa, that would have gotten like three weeks worth of discussion.” Thanks, sir. 😏 )

I’m so proud of my cushions and still, part of the process was absolutely rotten. But it taught me a lot about myself like: I’m really capable. I have the skills and the means to research and learn and get better and if given the time and space, I can get it done by myself. Having someone hold my hand is something I think will make me feel more capable, but I don’t actually need it. Maybe I can now be the someone holding someone else’s hand! Maybe I’ll be a lot more open minded to different ways of doing things, Nancy Pelosi!, as I very kindly hold that hand.

The frustration that came from losing a skill and having to relearn it said a lot more about how I’m feeling about myself in this period of my life than it does about a scarf keeping me warm. It felt wonderful to finally figure it out. It felt less wonderful for it to be too short, but the joy of it wasn’t really about me wearing it. It’s still an awfully cute scarf and I found someone cute to put it on and I’ll make a longer one for myself.

What have you created lately and what did you process about yourself while you created it? I have a friend who’s made chakra quilts for her loved ones in the different colors relating to the chakra they are working to heal. They are gorgeous quilts! And while she makes them, there is so much intention about something bigger and grander than just sewing. Every art we make, we dabble in, we dream of pursing is our way of processing this experience as humans. Tell me about something you’ve done lately:

And now for an onslaught of poetry:

I will say, as you can tell from above, I’ve been in my *feeeeeelings* lately. I’ve been both very tender and also feeling very distanced from everything. I’ve also been quite bad at responding to any correspondence (text, emails, letters), but I’ve felt incredibly grateful for the wonderful people surrounding me. I’ve felt distracted and somewhat forgetful, and then also when someone asked me how I was the other day, I replied, “shockingly good!”

Most people tell me to beware 
Cutting my girl’s curls
For fear we’ll lose them,
But I’ve been too busy with other worries
To care about that. 

Her strawberry head grew first
A mohawk, a straight spark of red. 
Now sometimes when she wakes
It’s a mess of this way
Or that way
Or, otherwise, her curls, 
Damp with sleep sweat,
Lie perfectly coiled. 

I’m so worried the world will hurt her. 

I’m so worried, as of late, 
As of this age where she runs far ahead,
As of this age where she tries out 
Every word I say, 
As of this age where she can open doors,
I’m so worried 
Someone will see those curls

And pull every single one

Out of her head. 

I’m worried the people born
Of this culture will demand her curls,
Take her curls. Come back for more. 
I’m so worried 
That even if I cut it 
Into a straight spark of mohawk, 
This world would find something else 
To take. To break. To curdle. 

I’m too busy with these worries
To stop her from growing up,
Growing her hair, getting it cut. 
She will change, I know it. 
I hope it is in the softest of ways. 

I hear her playing the piano
Through the wall. Soft fingers, 
Soft scales. I hope the world 
Lets her play those low notes,
Those high notes. Everything in-between. 
I hope the world never even considers her
For her curls. 

There are more important things
To worry about losing. 

---

I saw it on the way to the car. 
A December sprout I sowed last month. 
It isn’t supposed to be like this. 

I ache to text my friends, a distraction from the discourse dinging in my brain. 
It isn’t supposed to be like this,
We’d say with woozy emojis and capital letters, 
But I drive, focused on the road in front of me. 

I turn from the horny singers of now
To the heartbroken singers of then
Wondering if the seatbelt curved around my mother’s body in this exact way. 
Worse, she’d say- it was always somehow worse. 
Her December roads had snow and ice and storms 
That drove her family together next to the fireplace. 
My December has rain and sun enough for seeds to rise and a sled to sit 
Untouched by the Christmas tree. 
We need more snow, we wail at the window, 
A little girl who’s so fresh and new here but quite adamant 
That more snow is what we need. 

It isn’t supposed to be like this
I think to the sprout. I’m trying to grow a garden 
And you aren’t supposed to be here yet,
But the sprout looks at me as if to say
What shall we do about it? 

It isn’t supposed to be like this 
But it is: like this. 
There’s a little bit of let go and let god in everything.
A little bit of Noah’s ark destruction. 
Pavement with a wavy line down the way,
Not sure if it’s selling the story of salvation 
Or if the ship sailed and these are the roads we’re left with. 

It’s funny how god flooded the land clean. 
We think only of the ones who made it
Always assuming they would be us. 
We would be them.
Salvation. 
Am I supposed to break it
To this sprout
That she isn’t supposed to be here? 

There it is - a month’s worth! I’m going to reflect on if I want to change this space to being a month recap vs. a weekly recap, so if you’re here and have any opinions on that, let me know!

I hope your holiday season was filled with all the light it could hold during the darkest months.

Much love,

Bríg