Birthday girl

Hi. My name is Sofia and today was my first birthday! They tell me I have changed quite a lot in this last year.

I have been feeling lousy all week, with an ear infection and upset tummy from the antibiotics I've been taking, but I do love a party so I got all dressed up and pulled myself together to see what this birthday business is all about.

It was great. See the cool cake my mom made? I got to eat my own special little cake! Yummmm-meee.

Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Andy and lots of our friends came and they sang to me and we danced and ate a lot of good food and I got presents and cards. I liked the cards a lot. And the paper. The presents were OK too.

It was a wonderful day. I am very tired.

Love, Sofia

Beeeeee careful

Today the old china cabinet moved from the old house to the new house. Part of our preparation for putting our house on the market is taking a lot of the furniture away and spreading out what is left to make the rooms look more spacious. This is a "tip" that shows up in all the "how to sell your house in a bad market" articles. Does this really work? Do potential buyers not notice that the newly spacious-looking house is lacking in basic amenities, like dishes and glassware and any personal items? Well, anyway, whatever, that is what we are doing. Yet another example of "less is more" I guess.

Ray enlisted Andy's help. Andy is our son and is a graphics guy at a big Fedex Kinko's, which has given him lots of experience in packing things to ship. He was today's idea guy for the preparations. I was the person designated to wring my hands and make that "eeeeeee" face and repeatedly say, "beeeeee careful."

Andy's idea was to equalize any pressure on the fragile curved glass by filling the inside of the cabinet with pillows and foam rubber pads, then pad the outside, then encase it all in cardboard.


Is this making you nervous? Can I mention that Ray has had a mild case of the clumsies and broken a couple of things recently?

The mummified china cabinet was carefully carried down two flights of stairs, loaded into the back of the pickup and driven the 10 miles to the new house, unloaded, carried into the house, unpacked and put back on its cute little feet. Whew. Success.


This was my great grandmother's china cabinet, which makes it old. Really old. It was in her boarding house in Swink, Colorado for many years until her death. It moved to my parents' house in Pocatello, Idaho, then came to me in Portland, Oregon. That glass is old and wavery and thin.


We moved the washstand that also came from the Colorado boarding house. It sure fits nicely on that little wall.
Little by little . . .

Less is more

Mies Van Der Rohe said it and I believe it—really I do—but it's a hard concept to live by. It is something I have been telling myself almost daily as I sort through a lifetime accumulation of stuff in preparation for our move to a house that is smaller than the one we are currently occupying. I am pleased with my progress. I am taking huge bags to Goodwill nearly daily now.

Part of my purge has been disposing of the collection of old sewing gadgets and notions and stuff that I accumulated for years. I had a box of old wooden thread spools, some with thread, some without. I always thought I might do something with them, but never did. When I was making birds awhile back someone sent me a link to Abby Glassenberg's blog. Abby lives clear across the country in Massachusetts and makes incredible fabric birds. I was enchanted and read back through her blog. I noticed that she had at least one bird sitting on a wooden spool and in the accompanying blog entry she mentioned that her supply of old spools was getting regrettably low. Perfect. I sent her my box of spools. She seemed quite pleased and sent, in return, a small collection of fabrics from her stash, something I will certainly use. Less IS more.

Aren't these wonderful?


Especially this one!

I am putting the concept into practice in other ways as well. My original plan for Sofia's 1-year-old quilt included a border appliqued with flowers and leaves and butterflies and dragonflies.

As soon as I got this much pinned I knew it wasn't going to happen. Really, the center pieced section is so pretty (if I do say so myself) that it doesn't need the distraction of a lot of stuff around the border. Also, on a practical note, it was probably going to take me another year to get the border done and I want my baby to be able to have her quilt and use it. So the solution was to quilt the border design.

I even quilted a semi-secret message in the border. Can you see it? Probably not. It says, "For Sofia with love from your Grandma Terry"

I may be getting the hang of this "less is more" business.

Scenes from the beach

The second morning we were at the beach the power was out when we woke up. It was cold and we had no way of making coffee or cooking breakfast. Breakfast, by the way, is the one meal we get pretty serious about on these outings. Three mornings divided by 6 people means we pair up and each pair plans breakfast. The rest of our meals are catch as catch can. (I think I mentioned last year that we decided two scoops of Tillamook ice cream constitute lunch.) So on this morning there was no hot breakfast. Reva took matters into her own hands and figured out how to warm up (sorta) a cold quesadilla left over from the night before. The rest of us opted for a trip to Starbucks in Tillamook and Starbucks breakfast wraps. Beth and I cooked our planned breakfast for dinner that night. Turned out even better than if we'd planned it that way. Breakfast is always better accompanied by a nice glass of wine!

Every retreat weekend must, must include at least one good long walk on the beach regardless of weather. As it turned out the weather cleared for us. I always take my camera and I think I am going to get the greatest pictures. Somehow the pictures never really live up to the real thing. I think you have to be feeling the wind and hearing the gulls and smelling the ocean for the full effect, but here's this year's offering. Focus on textures.

Gerrie on the left, Reva, Beth—telling a big fish story I think, and Linda

Getting away for the view and the junk

I've been to the beach with my friends. Gerrie had her laptop along so she blogged as she went and captured more detail than I will give you. I am really tired tonight, but it was totally worth the tired. Not that we did that much to tire us out. Read. Sewed. Walked on the beach. Shopped a little. Ate some really good ice cream. I ended up with a hide-a-bed instead of a real bed, so the first night I slept diagonally to avoid the hideous bar in the ribs. Not totally successful, so I pulled the mattress onto the floor for the next two nights. Better, but not like home.

We rented two condos, side by side. We sewed and visited in one and cooked and ate in the other. This worked really well. We didn't have to tidy up our sewing projects in order to eat. One of these days this condo is probably going to fall into the ocean. It's that close. Here's the view just beyond the picnic table you see above.

Just around the corner was this little shop:

These are my friends peering in the windows. It was, according to the sign, supposed to be open, but there was no one there. The stuff sitting around outside was intriguing. Do you see the shark's jawbone sitting on the stump? The stuff we could see through the windows was even more so.

Even the boneyard around the side of the shop was interesting. I have known and loved a close relative of that chair that sits soaked and rotting in the rain.

What had been a mild interest in what the funky little shop might hold was fast turning into an obsession. Where was the owner?? The place was supposed to be open, dammit! There was treasure in there, just beyond our reach. Nevermind that I spent most of last week hauling junk out of my own house to take to Goodwill, this was new junk!—well, old junk really, but new to us.

Pretty soon the owner arrived, breathless, bearing brownies and the key to the door. The power had been off that morning, so she had to wait til it came back on to bake her brownies—then she could come and unlock her shop. Finally we could inspect everything up close and personal. Junk, pretty much. Chia pets and mismatched glassware, souvenirs of long-forgotten vacations and old fishing poles and well-used cowboy boots. But the brownies were delicious.

Fiberart For a Cause

click graphic for the Reverse Auction web site

I am really pleased to be a part of this year's Reverse Auction Fundraiser for Fiberart For a Cause. FFAC founder, Virginia Spiegal, asked me if I would be willing to participate this year and I jumped at the chance. She has donated more than $140,000 to The American Cancer Society for cancer research through her fundraising efforts. I have donated one of my favorite pieces of fabric art to be auctioned this year. There are wonderful pieces from other artists as well. I hope you will click on over to the site and check them out. Spread the word! Let your friends know about this great opportunity to support cancer research by adding a stunning artwork to their lives.

Ten years ago my wonderful father died of pancreatic cancer. It is one of the most deadly cancers and strikes unexpectedly, with no symptoms until it is too late to treat it. He lived less than 5 months after his diagnosis. My mother survived breast cancer, but it impacted her health and quality of life dramatically and may have contributed to her death just 5 months after my father's. I feel I lost them both far too soon and I miss them every day. I am always glad to do whatever I can to help raise funds for cancer research.

P.S. This entry is dated March 13, as Gale observed. I purposely postdated it so that it will stay at the top of my blog until the end of the reverse auction.

To every thing there is a season

There was a time in my life when I was ambitious. I wanted recognition. I wanted a career as an artist/designer. I wanted to be published and if not famous, at least to have a certain reputation within a certain circle. I designed patterns that didn't sell very well. (Oh my. They were so complicated) I submitted proposals to magazines that fell on deaf ears. I entered shows and was occasionally accepted. I agonized and swallowed rejection like the bitter pill that it can be. I did not want a hobby, I wanted a career. But my art and my fabric stuff remained in the hobby (now that's a word I really dislike. It sounds so trivial) realm and my careers became raising children and managing shops and studying design and designing publications and being married (yes, that is a career!) and finally finding myself at a place where earning a living was no longer the incentive and I could do pretty much what I wanted to do.

And just lately, things I once pursued longingly, seem to be dropping into my lap unbidden. I have been asked to contribute to a book. I have been asked to write magazine articles. I have been invited to participate in a terrific show of art quilts. I was asked to contribute to a respected online auction (see the post above) and today the piece I donated sold for a nice amount. I am happy, but a little confused by this turn of events and I've been thinking about this quite a lot. If I was once competitive, I don't think I am much anymore. I don't enter many shows. I enjoy making what I make. I enjoy selling it and I enjoy giving it away sometimes.

For a long time I tried so many ways to turn my artmaking into a way to earn money, and that just didn't happen in the way that would have made it a viable job. Maybe if the internet had existed back then. Or if I had been more aggressive, which is probably closer to the truth. But maybe if it had become a job it would have been less enjoyable, less fulfilling—or maybe more. Who knows? I do know that while I was frustrated I was not deterred and here I am still fooling around and making stuff. I don't have any regrets.

But I can't deny that there is a little thrill associated with those little events that recognize that what I do may have some value to someone else. Today's sale of my donation to the Fiber Art for a Cause auction, that supports cancer research, is one such event. Won't you join me, for just a minute, in a big Woo Hoo!

Whew. That felt good! The younger, more ambitious me would have been pretty excited.

This is the quilt that I donated to Virginia Spiegel's Fiberart For a Cause Fundraiser. It sold today for a $675 donation to the American Cancer Society.

It's Good to be Green

“It’s Good To Be Green” Exhibit

Latimer Quilt and Textile Center, Tillamook, Oregon

March 4 to May 4, 2008

Larkin Van Horn, Curator

Here's a detail of my quilt, "Green Thumb" that is part of this show. Today was the artist's reception at the Latimer Quilt and Textile Center in Tillamook.

Larkin invited artists from all over the country to create a piece for this show. She called it her "dream team" and nearly all responded. I am so flattered to have been asked. I'm in very good company. Since Tillamook is a bit out of the way, teetering, as it does, at the far western edge of the continent, the only artists who were able to make it to the reception were those of us within easy driving distance—Larkin and her compatriots from Whidby Island, and the three of us from Portland.

June Underwood, Gerrie Congdon, Me and Larkin Van Horne

Behind us is work by Amy Ropple, Frieda Anderson and Scott Murkin

This is a beautiful show. The three pieces on the right side of the stage are so stunning together you would think they were made to go together. That's Larkin's on the left, Nancy Porter's in the center and Julie Duschack's on the right. The two pieces on the left side of the stage are by Kathy Lichtendahl, left, and Linda Schmidt, right.

Here is Gerrie looking at Susan Shie's piece. It is phenomenal—so much to see and read. My piece is to its right. On the other side are pieces by Jamie Fingal, Sarah Ann Smith, Lyric Kinard and way down at the end, Maggie Hunt. Larkin said she put all the pieces with people in them on this wall.

This is a closeup of the shoes on Jamie Fingal's Girl Scout. We all agreed that if these shoes really existed we wanted a pair!

Jeri Riggs' piece in the foreground, visitors entering the Latimer in the background.

What a wonderful show Larkin has put together. This is but a taste. If you are on the Oregon Coast between now and May 4, be sure you stop by. If you can't make it, you're in luck! Larkin and her talented husband, Van, have put together a CD of the whole show which you can purchase for the very reasonable price of $15. Purchase it here.

You can see more on Gerrie's blog, including a shot of Ray hanging out with the husbands. I think he and Jerry Underwood had a good time thinking up names for the Gerrie, Terry, June, Portland trio. They seem to have a similar sense of humor—it's good fun for the long-suffering loyal spouses who have been to a lot of quilt show receptions!

Thanks for including me, Larkin!

That face . . .

I haven't posted any Sofia pictures for awhile. We continue to sit with her frequently and now that it is less than a month until her first birthday it seems like she is scrambling to have a whole repertoire of new tricks to show off with. This is her new expression. The scowl.


It doesn't indicate unhappiness or distress, it is purely for effect. I think she just figured out how to furrow her little brow and make a face that makes us laugh. And we do.

Of course we still get lots of smiles too.

I was wrong

See what a big person I am admitting that? Such an important issue too. I got an email from my friend Maggie Turner. Maggie is an extraordinary quilt artist and a former realtor, who attended Beaverton High School with Joe Rigert, of the prominent local family for whom our road was probably named. They pronounce the name as Ray does, Rig-gert. I will retrain myself. I am starting right now. Riggert. Riggert. Riggert.

Thanks, Maggie.

I guess.

Easy for you to say . . .

One of these days we're going to be moving and our address will be here on Rigert Road. Problem is, Ray and I can't agree on how the name of the road is pronounced. I say Rigert with a long i, like "tiger." Ray thinks it should be pronounced with a short i, like "trigger." We've asked other people who live in the area and they are either split in their opinions or don't know.

I base my pronunciation on the "rules" I learned sometime about 4th grade. As I recall it went something like in two-syllable words the long vowel is followed by a single consonent, a short vowel is followed by double consonents. But of course there are exceptions and who knows if Rigert is even an English word. It's a name I suppose. And names!—well there is no sense to how they are pronounced.

We do live, after all, in Oregon. OR-e-gone to most of the world, Orygun to those of who live here. In many cases you just have to know things like:

• Our fair city is split by the Willamette River, which is not sensibly pronounced willa-MET, but is, instead, wu-LAM-ut.
• A major downtown street is Couch Street. It is not pronounced Cow-ch, like a sofa, but Cootch, like, well, whatever.
• Near Couch Street is Glisan street. Rhymes with "listen."
  (I know about Couch and Glisan streets because there was a story in the newspaper about their pronunciations and they are pretty well-known streets. Rigert is just too obscure)
• The small town just south of Portland is Tualatin. It's pronounced tu-WALL-a-tun, which actually makes some sense phonetically, but it bamboozles visitors and newcomers.

So we're at an impasse. I say Ri-gert, Ray says Rig-gert. The other day I heard someone call it "Reegert". Ay, ay, ay. I am tempted to find someone in the phone book with this last name and call them and ask them how they say their name, but if I called two Rigerts I might get two different answers. Have you ever known anyone with this name? How did they pronounce it? How did you pronounce it in your head when you read the street sign at the top of this post?

How sweet it is

I've had a thing for James Taylor since he and I were both young and earnest. I still love him even though he has gotten quite bald and looks a bit like a school principal I once knew. He doesn't take himself quite so seriously these days and I like that. I don't think I take myself so seriously either. We've matured. Together. Though he doesn't know it.

I once told Ray that we were married for better or worse, etc. etc., except for the possibility that James would one day come along and want me to go on the road with him. Then it was all over. Ray understood and said the same held true in the event that Juliette Binoche realized that what she really needed in life was a skinny math teacher from Idaho. It's our understanding and we've been able to live with the uncertainty.

We've been watching JT on PBS tonight. It's the fund drive and we wisely DVR'ed it so we could whiz through the fundraising nonsense. He is in great form—funny and self-deprecating and he sings as beautifully as ever. He is still the guy.

When Sofia gets tired and needs a bit of comforting I sing to her. My standbyes are "Blackbird" (the Beatles) and "Sweet Baby James." She likes them both. So do I.

Here's a little clip from the show:

Old Clothes

Ray's brother and his wife were here, from Montana, this week. We had a great time. We went to an NBA game and our Portland Trailblazers beat the Lakers in an exciting, close game. We spent time with our darling Sofia. We ate, we drank, we laughed we enjoyed being together, as we always do.

Before they came out, my sister-in-law, Jamie, said she was bringing some "old clothes" to show me. I didn't expect the loveliness she unwrapped.

Our mother-in-law, Bertha, gave these to Jamie several years ago, as she was trying to get rid of stuff. We think they must have belonged to Bertha's mother. Here is a closeup of the bodice of the dress shown above:

All beautifully embroidered, faggotted and tucked. Here's another dress, even prettier.

And the lace on this skirt (or is it a petticoat?) is dreamy.

Two pair of shoes/boots. Jamie modelled. They were just her size—too small for my feet. The leather is still butter soft.

What to do with these? They seem like rare treasures to me, but I don't want them. Jamie wants them out of her house as well. We decided we will offer them to the Idaho Historical Society, as they were from the Boise area. (One of the boots is stamped "Falk's, Boise, Idaho" inside. I remember the old Falk's store from years ago) If they don't want them we're not sure what to do with them. Aren't they wonderful?! They make me think of old photographs from the early 1900's like this one from 1914.