A Much Needed Retreat

This weekend has been much anticipated for months and months and in spite of all that is going on in the world right now, we made it happen.  I got to spend the weekend with nine of the most wonderful people in the most wonderful place. 

Usually at retreats, I am a woman on a mission, trying to piece as much as possible.  I've been known to get 5 or 6 tops completed in a weekend.  Not this time.  It was a slower pace but I did manage to get two finished.

This is one of my new patterns, All Souls.  If you like it, you can find it on my etsy site here.  

This is a little squirrel quilt that's on the cover of the latest Simply Moderne magazine and I had to make it.

I enjoyed the first morning frost of the year with this view and a cup of coffee.

On Saturday, a few of us took a break and hiked along a dirt road.  The beautiful New River, a few wildflowers blooming, lovely old abandoned buildings, wooly worms and deer too fast to photograph (the deer were...the woolies not so much).

 

This was such a wonderful, laid back group.  We sewed, talked, laughed until the wee hours...appropriately socially distanced of course.  

Here we all are showing off our quilts on the veranda of Quiltville Inn.  

We ate wonderful food, drank coffee on the porch and had smores around the fire pit.  Shelley introduced me to grappa and I'm a fan.  Cyndi, the Halloween Fairy left us gifts every night for us to find on our sewing machines the next morning.

We all agreed that the best part was being able to be together...carefully with buckets of sanitizer but together.  We have all missed that (the together, not the sanitizer...).  My dear friend, Bonnie has created a safe haven and we are all already counting the days until we return to Quiltville Inn.

Where the heck is Mouth of Wilson?

I've lived in North Carolina all my life.  Occasionally, I venture across the state line but the older I get, the more homebody I seem to become.  Part of that is because I travel vending at quilt shows and that, my friends, is hard work.  Cut the fabric...make the kits...pack the bins...hook the trailer to the truck...load the trailer...drive...drive...drive...unload the trailer...set up the booth...sit in the booth and pray people like your stuff enough to part with their hard-earned cash...tear down the booth...load the trailer...drive...drive...drive...unhook the trailer...go home.  Hard work.  Last year, I did a dozen or so shows.  This year nine...next year...I'm planning on doing just four unless something truly wonderful pops up that I can't resist giving a go.  But, bottom line, I'm working on becoming more homebody-ish because well...home is awesome.

But...when I get a chance to go with a friend to her cabin in the hills and sew for a few days, don't stand in my driveway because I'm outta here.  And when that friend is Bonnie Hunter whose travel schedule is insane, it's rare we have more than time for a quick lunch much less time for a sew day  MUCH less 3 days together.

I packed up the truck like I was going on a month-long sewing retreat and headed up the highway.  A short, beautiful drive later, I'm pulling into the Mouth of Wilson, Virginia and in front of Quiltville Inn.  When Bonnie first told me about this place, I pictured Mouth of Wilson as hidden away and hard to find.  It's not.  It's an easy, lovely drive in the highlands and though it feels like the middle of nowhere (and it kinda is), you're not that far from everything you need.

So, I pull up to the Inn and y'all, this house...no wonder Bonnie fell in love with it.  It is the quintessential Blue Ridge Mountain manse complete with wrap around porch with a haint blue ceiling, big wavy glass windows and a bubbly creek in the backyard.  Inside is spacious and bright and comfortable.  It is so wonderful to see someone's dream rise up in front of your eyes. 

So, of course, we did the girlly happy dance and took a selfie when I got out of the truck.

Soon, we headed to the cabin and got down to business of sewing our brains out.  There were a few "interruptions" like ice cream at the Grayson Highlands General Store and a July 4th celebration at Rick and Mona's and opening three boxes of antique quilts from Pepper Cory.  (I've got no words...just my jaw on the floor and maybe I drooled a little bit.)

By the end of Thursday night, I had four quilt tops finished.  Yes, four...but I had all the pieces cut out and in baggies because if I try to cut stuff at "retreat", I mess up.  Cutting out a project takes quiet, uninterrupted brain waves for me.  I am a one-track train.

The time went by way too fast and before I knew it, we were headed back home and back to work getting orders out, doing quarterly taxes and thinking about loading the trailer for the next show.

It was a great few days hanging out with Bonnie and family and seeing this dream come true.  And one day in the not-too-distant future after a lot of hard work by Bonnie and family, there will be an incredible place for quilters to gather. 

The Big 5-0 - The Best Birthday Ever

When I turned 30, it was no big deal.  I was still footloose and fancy free...single and loving life in downtown Raleigh.  I still thought I was all that.

When I turned 40, I didn't want to acknowledge it.  I was happily married but like wasn't so footloose.  I was miserable in my job and miserable in my own skin.  I was in bad shape physically (though the worst was still a couple of years away).  I woke up on my 40th birthday with my left eye swollen shut from conjunctivitis.  I should have stayed in bed.

I really didn't think I'd make it to 50.

But I did.

And in a much better place in so many ways that I was at 40.

I'm still happily married and thankful he puts up with me.
I am no longer miserable in my job...I'm poor but money isn't everything, right?
I'm a good 150 pounds lighter than I was on my 40th and I'm not as worried about being the first to die in the zombie apocalypse.
Best of all, I'm surrounded by the best family and friends a soul could want.

So, for my 50th, I wanted a party.

My husband and my mom were shooting for a surprise party but my dad was having none of that...so he called me and tattled on them.  He wanted to make sure I got just what I wanted.  Did I mention I'm still a Daddy's girl?  I'm lucky like that.

Well, I did get exactly what I wanted...a low key, laid back gathering in the coolest location possible, Sutler's Spirits, a distillery in an old West End warehouse next to out current favorite restaurant, The Porch, who ended up catering the shindig.

It could not have been more perfect.

David did surprise me with the best birthday cake in the shape of my Bear Hug logo.  It was yummy too!

Here he is. He did good!

My friend, Hattie, helped a lot and as if that wasn't enough, she gave me this wonderful painting by one of our favorite folk artists.  (Well, she said the puppies but we know the truth.)

My bee from Raleigh came up!  We've been a bee for 25 years!

My old friend, Sam came.  We were peas and carrots before I move to Winston and he moved to Latvia.

My Trade Street sisters came.  (These are about the only thing I miss about that job.)

My best roomie, Muriel!

Sister Laura and Brother Gary!

Here's our host, Scot, giving out samples of his gin and rum.  I hate gin.  I haven't had it in about 30 years.  This gin though...good stuff.  I may be converted.

A blurry photo of my brother and my mother doing gin shots.  I didn't see that coming.

The Badens and the Brendles...instigators and encouragers...they are the best.

My little brother in his bulldog sweater.  When he did a toast, I was very afraid.  Very. Afraid.

My Aunt Dianne whose always been my cheerleader.

And a gaggle of quilters and husbands.

There are many more photos because that's what my mom does...take photos...of everything but I'll stop there.  You get the idea.  There were a lot of folks there from family to high school to those crazy 20-something years to work friends.  But the majority were quilt friends because outside of blood family and a select few, quilting has been the tie that binds.

I was blessed the day I first picked up a needle and thread.

Where's My Mojo?

I've lost my blog mojo.  I don't know why.  I just have.  I think about writing but I don't.

I lost focus on why I started blogging in the first place...which was because I can't remember stuff.  Facebook and Instagram make that a little easier but here I can come back and find not only the photos but the feelings and thoughts behind those photos.

So to get me started again, here are the best things since the last time I posted...

David got a new job.  An excellent, wonderful job where he doesn't travel out of state as much and he has Fridays off...and a new work truck...and a crew so he's not wandering in the woods by himself with the bears and coyotes and I can sleep a little better at night.

I had a wonderful retreat to Quiltvilla with Bonnie and Mickey...relaxing, fun, inspiring and productive.

I went to Farm Aid with these two crazy ladies and we had the best time ever.



I got to spend time with my high school best friend's older daughter who just move to NC after being stationed in California with the Air Force.  I helped her with a special project for her beau who is stationed in Germany with the Air Force but hopefully coming home in a couple of weeks.



I had a booth at Rustic Muse, an art show in Clemmons and had the best time sitting in the tent listening to music, visiting with folks, eating and even selling some stuff.  It was the coolest ever.



I spent a week and a half hanging at the beach.  I almost didn't come back.



Hattie and I started getting our butts kicked regularly by Whitney.  Here we are doing the Turkey Strut 5K on Thanksgiving morning.  Happy campers!



Christmas with the family was crazy as usual.  Looking at the photos, it looks like something out of a sitcom.

On New Year's Eve we walked the lights at Tanglewood at midnight with good friends and a bunch of other crazy people.



Now that I've started, maybe I'll find that mojo and keep running with it.

It's a new year after all!

Friendship and Brotherhood

The first time I picked up a needle and thread, I never imagined how it would change and enrich my life...not just through the things I create but through the friendships that have been created because we came together as quilters.  I have met some of the most wonderful people through quilting.  One of these wonderful people is Cheryl Summerville and I've just loved her since the moment I met her.  She's one of these folks that is easy to be around...wicked funny, grounded and easy to be around and genuinely caring.

About a year and a half ago, we were at retreat at Montreat.  She came up for one night only...the first night she had been away from home since her husband had had surgery a few months before.  I was so glad she came even for a bit and I remember hugging her in the parking lot as she left to go back home, wishing her safe travels and that Walt kept up the good recovery.  A few days later, we hear that Walt passed away unexpectedly.  I can't describe the sorrow I felt for my friend.  I may ramble on here but in real life, I am usually at a loss for words.  I'm not good with my own pain, much less someone else's.  I never know what to say.  If there was a sound I could make to express the sorrow I feel and the comfort I wish to give, I'd make it but nothing comes out.

Because Walt was the Fire Chief, the funeral was large. All the town's fire trucks lined the church parking lot as well as fire trucks from other departments across the state.  A small contention of quilters attended. Without going into a lot of detail, I'll just say that the funeral was moving beyond anything I've ever seen.  This man was loved...by his family, his friends, his town, and the men and women who served under him.  There is a brotherhood among firefighters that is stronger than any other and if you've ever attended a firefighter's funeral, you will feel that bond.

As our little group of quilters left, we talked about things we could do and like I said before, I'm not good with words in the face of someone else's pain and loss.  I feel awkward and I'm afraid of intruding.  Where I can't speak in words, I can speak through a quilt.  I wanted to DO something, something that spoke where I could not, something that would honor my friend, Cheryl, something that would remind the town that Walt was...  I wanted to do something to show the firefighting community that what they do means something to someone who is outside looking in.

Because the firefighting community is so connected beyond a town boundary, I decided to contact fire departments across the state and see if they would donate patches that I could use in a quilt. There are cover 600 fire departments in this state.  Did you know that?  Holy cow.  I started by contacting the NC Fire Chiefs Association.  The president sent my email to their yahoo group.  His patch was the first I received.  They started to trickle in after that and I thought...okay...it'll be a wall hanging.  A few weeks later, my mailman asked me what the heck I did.  I received around 100 patches in the mail...plus a few from friends including a kindergarten/high school friend who is a firefighter in Chapel Hill.  The first time I took the quilt over to the fire station, there were some spaces on the quilt borders that were empty...so the guys filled them in with their own.

There are patches on there from guys that trained with Walt including one patch from New South Wales and guys that worked under him and had moved on to other cities.  They wrote letters to me and I cried.  I put them in a book for Cheryl with a warning that I boohooed and didn't even know these guys.  There is one patch that is a 1940's era Kernersville patch.  In the center is a memorial patch for Walt that another quilting friend digitized and embroidered for the quilt.

It was a long process but we finally presented the quilt last night.  It's taken almost as long to get a presentation date than it did for me to make the quilt but we finally decided to just present it at the fire station.  Leave the town council and the mayor and the managers out of it.  It's not about them anyway.  It's about the firefighters, their families, friendship and brotherhood.

I've made over 700 quilts.  Some of them have been very meaningful but this one... this one has my heart.

Crazy Busy Week

I look back and wonder how in the world I worked a "regular" job and got anything else done.  I am crazy busy which is a great thing.

The first part of the week, I was busting it to get a sample of Animal Crackers finished to send to Pattern Peddlers for their booth at market.  Yeah...I pretty much started and finished this quilt in a 24 hour period...from cutting it out to putting on the label.  There was copious amounts of coffee involved.

On Tuesday, I taught Animal Crackers at Sew Original in Boone.  We had a great ol' time.  One quilter was making the baby quilt for someone who has llamas...so she had her husband draw a llama for her applique.  It was super cute!

And we hung out at Sew Original playing with fabric...I mean working...

The rest of the week, I've been working on a very special project that is on a short deadline.  I'll be hard at this one all weekend and next week too.

Then this evening I got to visit with lots of folks I hadn't seen in a while as they came to Sew Original to congratulate Lee Monroe for getting published in Stitch magazine.  Being on the road, I've felt disconnected from a lot of my quilty friends.  I'm really going to enjoy being home.

Yeah...things are crazy busy but as Mrs. G says life is good!

From Sea to Mountains

Usually the week between Christmas and New Year's Day is fairly non-eventful.  Not this year.  I had places to go and people to see.

Friday after Christmas, my friend, Hattie, and I headed to the beach with the puppies.  This is the scene that greeted us...

There were lots of walks on the beach...

The sand was even warm enough for toes...for a while anyway.

On Saturday night, we ventured to North Myrtle Beach to hear Gregg Allman and House of Blues.  He was wonderful but Hattie and I both agreed we're too old to stand on the floor with the drunk younguns.  We'll be springing the extra money to sit upstairs next time.

We got back home in the wee hours and woke to cold, gusty and rainy weather the next morning.

So we opted for the couch potato life.  The puppies approved.

Before we left on Monday, we went to visit a curious place.  On the mainland not far away, there's a property on the highway that seems to "grow" little houses.  If you just glance as you go by, it looks junky but if you slow down and really look, there's a magic to it...an artfullness.  I've always been on my way somewhere with either someone waiting for me or someone with me who didn't care to stop, so I have never taken the time.  This time we did.  What we found was the wonderland of a visionary artist, Mary Paulsen.

She built all the little houses herself and used whatever was given or found.

There are over a dozen little buildings to explore, including her art gallery.  All of them are painted floor to ceiling.  I found myself smiling the whole time...which is her purpose...that and feeling children.  See.. she's a world renown visionary artist and a good ole girl from Brunswick County...whose used her earnings and donations to feed the children... about 50,000 per year locally and worldwide...for three decades.  It was an honor to meet her and walk in her world.

After our visit with Mary, we went back to the house, packed up the puppies and headed home.  We took the scenic route and made a few stops.  First was a little barn near Whiteville.  (Hattie collects oddities for her art and the place looked promising.)  We met Brandy the Goat who could hear Shelby having a duck fit in the car.  If you look in the window, you can see her eyeballing my new friend.  She was not a happy camper.

I had one evening at home then turned around New Year's Eve and headed for Asheville with my friend Mary Lea.  Our friend, Beth McKee was performing at the Grand Bohemian Hotel.

It's the first time in years that I've have plans on New Year's Eve except to go run around Tanglewood Park with a bunch of other crazy people at midnight.

We checked into the Baymont (because the Grand Bohemian is waaayy out of the pauper's budget) then set out to explore.  We started at Waechters Fabrics then headed to Kitsch Fabrics in West Asheville...where we found the wonderful Amy... and her cactus brassiere (an art bra and part of a breast cancer fundraiser).

After a stop at a bead shop downtown, we had dinner at The Lab...okay dinner and a really good beer.

We headed back to the hotel to freshen up before the party then walked the couple of blocks to the Grand Bohemian.  Here's us...selfies in the elevator...like we're sixteen.

When we walked up to the door at the hotel, we were met by this guy... in a kilt...who was really Scottish.  That was just the beginning of the excellent people watching that would be our New Year's Eve.

The party ended up hopping and we had a great time.

At the end of the night, Beth (and a handful of our new intoxicated "friends") sang Happy Birthday to me.  It was awesome in an Alice in Wonderland kind of way.

After the party, ML and I walked back up the hill to the Baymont, crashed and slept late.  The next morning we headed to Tupelo Honey Cafe for a birthday brunch and then headed back home...where I barely hit the driveway to pick up David and Shelby to head to my parent's house for the traditional New Year's Day black-eye peas, collards and ham...and birthday cake.

Sea to mountains and back home again.  Oh, the fun I had but it's always good to be back home again.