A Moment

The last several months have been ripe with daily discoveries in my work, my motherhood, my hopes and my art.  Failures.  Frustrations.  Joys.  Fears.  Unreasonable hopes, and many almost-just-right successes.  Since we opened Craft South in May of last year my schedule has been free of the more predictable format that the previous ten years have enjoyed.  In most sentences the word "free" implies something good.  Here, well, I suppose it is all a matter of how you look at it.  I am learning so much about what it means balance family and work.  So much.  I thought I knew, and then I realized that I had no idea until I threw a really heavy weight on one side of that scale.  For months, I have been pushing my foot down on the family side as hard as I can to weight the scale in favor of the people that I love, but not lose sight of the work that I love.  I suppose the greatest goal that I have is that the family can support me, and that the work will support my family, not just tangibly, but as a positive force.  That is it, right?  I think so.  I am so very grateful for both, but which of us professes that gratitude of motherhood while you are being puked on?  No hands?  Right.  Well, I suppose the work gratitude is the same.  It does puke on you.  Then later you realize how lucky you are to be puked on.  What was I saying?

Since 2009 I have written a January recap of the previous year, and this year, I just could not muster the strength to see 2015 for what it was..... it seemed so many years all in one.  Our family life with all of it's ages, directions, personalities seems to have grown bigger than any summary I can attach to it.... my work life too, has sprouted arms and legs and is running in directions that I am still trying to have the lung capacity for, but I remain engaged and excited about the changes.  I suppose I am still learning how to succinctly talk about it in bits here, and like many of us, I am trickling so many words and images through Instagram on an almost daily basis that I wonder about redundancy and all that.  I guess, placing thoughts here, is not redundant as much as it is just a different investment, and all together different piece of writing to look back on... and maybe less affected by the .25 second attention between the finger swipe of all the other images and words and #s.  Ahhh.  Slow. Down. Us.  I love Us.  But I want Us to slow down.  

If I CAN attach a single thought to 2015, and even the past few months, it is that I was forced to realize how much slower and in person is good.  My home became free of an online shipping process that made it belong to my family in a way that it has not since 2007.  That made each moment here a more dedicated moment.  So even the work that I invest in my home studio is now quieter, albeit busier with the addition of Craft South.  But that place, which is just about 10 minutes from my house.... it is a place for me to walk into where I engage my own craft and that of others in a tangible way, that is not a screen or a hashtag, or a FB post or an IG promotion.  Craft South is people and processes that I can see, and smell and hear, and feel a part of.  So the work and the home are better because of 2015.  Not easier.  But better.  

I have been fortunate to take part in several interviews in the past months where I got to take advantage of the long format of reply to questions from women that I really admire.  And we also made a little bio-doc of Craft South that I am really proud of.  Here are links to all of them:

-Crafty Planner

-Motherhood by Design

-Woolful

-Craft South Doc

I hope that the investment in the places above helps if you miss me here.  When I am conducting my days, I often think about this place and the voices that have so kindly responded to me here since 2006.  And the collective support that I still feel, despite my long stretches of silence, is a meaningful part of my creative conscience, so thank you for that.

2016, so far so good, you.  The image above reflects a very nice reward for the years of investment in my career and my family..... it is me as the proud mama of a gorgeous, talented girl, who just presented her first collection of fabric with Free Spirit while we were @ Quilt Con last week.  Miss Juliana, you are a rare and wonderful person, and you can do whatever you wish with your gift, because it is an honest and beautiful gift.  I am so happy that I watched your first official introduction to this industry on my mother's birthday.  I know that she is so proud of you, because I feel it pour right through my heart to you.

(and happy birthday to my dad today, too!)

(sob.smile.) xoxoAM

Landed

Well, we did it.

We have found the permanent, real, live, physical, perfect location for Craft South. I still can't believe it on so many levels.  What started over 18 months ago as an itch to move my online shop fulfillment, and therefore employees, to a space outside of my home, has developed into a venture, that in my hope of hopes, is literally and metaphysically building a brick and mortar wall around everything that I have been doing my whole adult life.  My name and that of my husband's is now signed on a lease for a building that is still in the process of being built in Nashville's most bustling neighborhood, 12th South.  We hope to move in towards the end of the year, and be open for business sometime early in 2015.  More about the project here.

The pop-up style of how we have been running Craft South this summer, has brought to us some of the kindest, most talented, funniest,  most diverse and interesting group of women & kids from all around the world who have had such a devoted enthusiasm for their craft of choice.  Garments.  Patchwork.  Embroidery. Machine skills.  Hand skills.  What they all seem to have had in common more than anything is the desire to share and the desire to learn.  Two things that I myself possess and work on every single day.  In other words, I have somehow managed to bring kindred spirits to my home and create a place and a frame of mind where we are all bettering ourselves in a way that makes sense to us.  That is me up there introducing the most recent group of weekend workshoppers to our shop in progress.  I am a pretty lucky lady.  Even luckier that I have been able to connect these ladies with amazing designers & friends like Amy Butler, Liesl Gibson, Natalie Chanin and, in just a couple of weeks, Heather Ross.  I am thrilled that we will have a place to continue connecting crafters with those that inspire them and keep an open door policy with our neighbors who want to share, shop and learn. 

If you have ever read my about page, you might have noticed a note buried in there about how I got started in my career.  I got started with my mom.  We had a shop called The Handmaiden in Knoxville that formalized the trade that I had developed in college of earning extra money making and selling dresses to local shops.  We decided to have our own shop and make lots more dresses right there in front of everyone.  We also sold the wares and designs of about 40 different local artists, so I got to know independent designers (in the days before Etsy) and their hopes and struggles at the tender age of 23.  Mom had just retired from nursing.  Juliana was 3.  Jeff was still in school.  We set up sewing shop at the back of the space, I designed the clothes, we both sewed them, and we barely made enough money to cover rent some months but I have barely ever had more fun as I did those three years with my mother.  Playing store, talking to customers, figuring out how to be a mother, wife and business owner all at once, but all with the help and care of my devoted mother.  My biggest fan, my most earnest supporter.  My partner.  The running of the business and all of the challenges we faced soon overwhelmed my ability to devote myself to designing.  When the designing suffered, I chose to rather run the clothing line out of my home for a few more years wholesaling around the Southeast.  My mother had this unbelievable knack for being able to chalk up the entire experience as one where we learned a lot and that it was a total and complete success, simply because it headed me where I was going.  She was so proud of me and continued to support every move I made in business and life until her last moments.  We had prayerfully dedicated our shop to the Virgin Mary, as she is referred to in some scripture as the handmaiden, and my mother was always so thrilled that we happen to sign the lease for that (incredibly overpriced) building on August 15th.  It is on this day that the Eastern Orthodox Church celebrates the Virgin, and all those named Mary, which my mother was, and therefore celebrate August 15th as their "nameday".  I likely would have forgotten that signing date had it not been for my mother so continually bringing it up over the years, and what a blessing it was to our experience.  That was her.  Always a good reason for everything.  There was a glimmer on every bit of life if you looked hard enough, even those that I might have labeled as failures.  She saw glimmers.

This new life I have- the one where she is not here, I am still figuring it out.  When good things happen these days, particularly the ones that I don't expect.... the glimmer feels like her.  It feels like she is arranging things for me.  True or not, it is a comfort.  And this new place.  This (incredibly overpriced) building - I have been working continually to be the tenant there since February.  It was a long and complicated and imperfect process that was filled with doubt, frustrations and high hopes and a huge investment of time beyond my everyday responsibilities.  The process took so much longer than anticipated.  We were set to sign in mid July.  Things got sticky with negotiations and it moved to early August.  Then we were set to sign on August 11th.  The lawyers were out of town so the date moved to August 15th.  And that is the day that this venture started.  On mom's nameday.  Again.  This time, 19 years later, it was our little Mary Anna's nameday too, and we celebrated her.

Just the day before we signed the lease I taught the kid's hoola hoop weaving class and a very sweet woman brought her daughter to take my class.  Before class got started I had a nice chat with the mom about craft, Nashville, parenting, school and how the city is growing.  Later that night once settled in with my laptop, husband and a movie I got an email from that mom.  She said it was not until after she had been in class with me and her daughter that she realized that I am the same lady that had a shop in Knoxville where she used to spend some time between classes while at UT.  She said she remembers that I owned it with my mom who was such a sweet lady with whom she enjoyed speaking.  I simply replied that hearing that gave me a lot of joy and what a small world.

We are beginning this adventure with a million little glimmers.  Some of them hard work, some of them prayers, some of them art, some of them stitches and some of them are you.  Thank you so much for any bit of help, encouragement, purchases, notes or thoughts you have lent to my process as a designer over the years.  They have all brought me to a place- a physical one that I will gladly walk into and I hope to see you there.

with thanks, xoxoxoAnnaMaria

ps.  keep an eye on the Craft South instagram feed for updates as we have them and the Craft South blog.

Last official day

...of summer.

All my studio days this summer have been sorta short, or otherwise highly interrupted.  Summer is a completely different kind of work-at-home work. 5 people are headed back to school tomorrow.  We only have a 7 week summer in our county, bc they've extended the fall, winter and spring breaks.  Overall I think it works better for their brains but I am never ready for summer to be over.  Well, that's not true.  I do crave schedule right around now.  But I sorta hate to see them go.  I love hainvg this bunch of people around me so much, in spite of the occasional bouts with chaos and noise levels one cannot write a sewing pattern through. 

Anyway, this is today.  One layer at a time we are making a 4x6' family painting.  No rules except not to intentionally make a sibling angry.  We decided I should take the day off and do something we've never done together and this is what everyone settled on.  So that layer is almost dry, time to round them back up and head out for the next. 

I hope summer is treating you well.  I miss sharing here more with you.....I am easily found daily on Instagram if you miss me too.  I am far from giving up on blogging, though.  It just ebbs and flows like everything else in a lived life.

kisses, xoxoAnna

A soft silky summer

Our baby girl is one.  That happened on Saturday.  She dug her chubby little fingers through a strawberry lemon cupcake baked by Eleni and Isabela until finally she stuck some of the gooeyness into her little rosebud mouth and smiled a yummy grin.  Also a little chuckle as she knew everyone of us had been sitting there waiting for her to do it, and had been restraining ourselves from picking up a big chunk and plunking it onto her tongue.  But I insisted we all wait and watch.  Let her do it herself.  And she did.  Because she is One.

She is strong, delightful, sweet, ambitious, friendly, affectionate, smart.  This morning when I heard her big girl squawks from the crib -- noticed they were finished being the talking herself into being awake sort, and had become the when is someone going to retrieve me? sort -- I walked in to find her standing with a giant smile against the white railing pointing over to a picture of my mother and me on her shelf.  "Yes, Nani" I said as I always do when she points to it.  And her smile deepens and a breathy chuckle made of s and t sounds sneaks out of the slobbery grin marked with 5 tiny teeth.  We settled into the rocker and she grabbed my shirt for morning milk.  As I obliged I instinctively traced the nail of my right forefinger from the crown of her head to her left temple in one gentle line to part her soft, silky flax over to one side.  The morning light through her pink curtains made her thickening hair gleam like white gold.  I soaked in the tenderness of a single fleeting moment- soft, silky summer, rocking, intense eyebrows concentrating on her work- knowing it will get swallowed up by breakfast cereal and running with the rest of them all too soon.

For now though, the sunlit mornings and the dark nights and that rocker are ours.
I don't know how to wish for more, still trying to grasp all that is before me.
Blessing counted.
xoxoAM

Pretty Close

By Land

By Sea

By Air

I am so pleased to share a close look at my new collection of quilting Cotton, Pretty Potent. Here is the write-up that I've offered to describe my inspiration for the collection in short:  

I've always considered sitting in front of a plant with a pencil and paper the best drawing class one can take. Looking to nature for inspiration and instruction on beauty is an old and welcome practice in all forms of making art. Using the natural world for healing is perhaps even an older practice. In my Pretty Potent collection, I drew inspiration specifically from plants and flowers that are often used for healing. While they possess properties to heal our physical bodies, the very beauty of the plants themselves seems intended to be a balm for the soul. Potent and pretty. The duality enchanted me

That is most of the story. There is always a bit more to it. Sometimes I feel compelled to share that extra bit, and this is one of those times.  As misplaced as the back story might actually seem in the realm of cotton fabric (for heaven's sake), I have always felt that there aren't any real rules to any of this so no imminent breaking of them I suppose either. Roughly a year ago I had a newborn baby who needed milk and precious undivided attention around the clock. I had the sting of shock with every move that I made having just lost my mother only weeks earlier, and in many ways was suffering from post-traumatic stress as the recurring images of the very intimate details of losing her slowly over several days by her side, as blessed as I was to be there, appeared in my eyes in my sleep and with every possible trigger of memory in my days.  I had contracted MRSA from the hospital where I delivered Mary Anna that was unbelievably painful and required a great amount of care to prevent giving it to the baby as the main infection site was right in my underarm very near where her sweet head rested as she nursed.  I had torn a ligament in my left knee by slipping down my father's stairs the night before the 40-day memorial for my mother, rendering me limp and unable to go on long walks that I desperately needed for my recovery of body and soul, without intense amounts of pain.  I had a vascular anamoly that would not stop bleeding for more than a month that finally required plastic surgery to remove from my sternum. And I was behind on work. Which was a pittance in comparison to all of the above, however it was work for which I so wanted to be joyful and healthy and glad.  It was designing my fabric collection. I was in need of healing.  In so many ways.  Specifically never in my life had I been in more need of physical healing, let alone the rest. I was bankrupt of the typically deep well of inspiration that I have for making art. I settled then, very mechanically at first, on allowing my work, my drawing, my coloring, and my inspiration to derive itself from subject matter that was very specifically about healing. But also beauty. Desperate for both.  My colorway names are derived from a prayer for travelers, as the tiniest additional plea from me.  And yes it is attached to something that certainly does not require such an outpouring of emotion or even thought, only being fabric.  But you see, there was no other possible way for me to do it if I could not create all of it at once, just like this and convince myself (a lie perhaps) that doing so in this exact way would certainly help.  I was so in need of help.  I prayed continually for it.  I asked my dear mother in prayer for it in a quiet room where I got no response other than a sweet baby making little slurpy nursing noises, and I would then have to force a response in my head, holding so closely to the imagined sound of my mother's voice, fearing if I didn't I would lose it forever.  I needed even this work for hire to be a process, a story, a prayer, and even a recovery.  And so it was.  A little.  And a joy now to feel how much I have indeed in every physical sense healed since then, across the months since the first drawing to now finally the sewing.  I will continue a little now, as though I have not indulged enough, and share each of the prints closely.


Echinacea is commonly used to heal a common cold and boost the immune system.


Chammomile is commonly used to heal inflammations of the skin and bacteria on the skin.


Eucalyptus is commonly used to heal wounds, ulcers and burns.


Mary Thistle was used in the first century to protect the liver and treat cancer.


Primrose is thought to have benefits for many different ailments including autoimmune diseases.


Aloe Vera is most commonly used to heal burns, but has uses for numerous ailments.


Banner Days is a design inspired by the Mexican folk art, papel picado which is used to decorate family celebrations like baptisms, weddings and even funerals.


Family Unit is inspired by the group of us that are commonly used to heal ME.

thank you, xoxoAM

Pride and Other Risks of Expression

photo by mario zanaria

sketch and photo by juliana horner

photo by mario zanaria

photo by mario zanaria

sketch and photo by juliana horner

photo by mario zanaria

photo by mario zanaria

photo by mario zanria

sketch and photo by juliana horner

photo by Thomas Iannaccone for WWD

photo by mario zanaria

photo by me of Juliana's piece in Pratt Look Book

You might remember something about me leaving my daughter in New York roughly four years ago.  Watching her, from a long distance vantage point, grow into an independent and immensely original artist has been something that I think I may utterly fail at describing. It is complex and beautiful and rewarding and humbling.  Attending the graduating fashion show last week held all of the excitement that we anticipated.  The phone calls, texts, emails, visits that we have had with her in recent months graced us with news of success and recognition by her peers and the faculty at Pratt.  Being asked to be in the show alone is an honor that not every graduating senior gets.  Which on the one hand feels unfair.  On the other hand feels just like the fashion world.  Might as well know that as soon as possible, I suppose.  But imagine our huge pride at watching her collection close the show.  The finale.  The last looks on everyone's mind.  Looks that have landed at WWD and  Style.com among others (in fact I just noticed the looks of Jeff's and my face are right over the models left shoulders in the WWD slideshow, snort).  If you want to see the entire show, it's right over here (her stuff begins around 57:30).
With the imagery of her collection still fresh in my mind, the single greatest joy for me is to have seen her and her work in the context of her peers and find it to be so completely unaffected by her environment or the work of others.  Watching the models float across the runway in her inventive, watercolor-y yet intensely engineered pieces still has me feeling as though I am swimming through her sketchbook.  The seemingly effortless translation of concept to final piece was fluid and graceful and utterly deceptive in hiding the hours and hours (and hours) each of the pieces took.  She sent her hands and heart down the walk.  It was a risk.  A huge risk to insist on your work being entirely from within and nothing else.  
Her collection is titled Containment and here are a few of her own words:
"As humans we have a natural tendency to contain things.  It gives us a sense of control, whether that control is real or not.  I wanted to play with this idea in the garments, both containing the body and elements within the fabrications themselves."
My only regret from the event is that she was backstage during her parade of work and could not see or feel how the energy in the room changed entirely as her pieces poured into the crowd of onlookers.  I have of course relentlessly described this to her ever since.
Congratulations to my beautiful, amazing girl.  My own greatest risk.
This is just the beginning.
xoxo

In Care of

I am appreciating the pace of things right now. (Ask me again in a few minutes.) There is as much going on as ever I suppose, but no piece of it is causing me anxiety or impatience.  I am just moving along, feeling as though I have at least a grasp on everything.  You should know this feeling is not typical for me.  I can barely spend a minute basking in the relief of one thing finished before the fear of being behind on 14 others.  Self-employment?  Motherhood?  Both? You know that feeling.
I have found time to put real flowers on cupcakes.  I potted herbs for my new patio shelves.  I went for a good long run with my ipod for the first time in I can't remember.  I rocked Mary Anna entirely to sleep several times over the past few days instead of just close enough to sleep.  That was my favorite.  I laid down last night well before bedtime with only the intent to listen to rain hitting the window. 
In the studio this week, Pierrette and I have photographed, inventoried, cataloged, organized, packed, edited, listed, and launched all of my new cross stitch patterns and kits.  This is a thrill for me!  Really, really.  These little guys took a serious amount of perfecting that was deceivingly simple when I began the design and printing process.  But I am entirely happy with how they turned out, and the project was worth the extra bit of care that it required.  They live in a very freshened up Needleworks section of my shop that now has scissors, hoops, aida cloth, needles and brand new palettes of floss too.
Tomorrow Jeff & I head out very early with Mary Anna to NYC for the big fashion show.  I am learning what it means to be proud.  I thought I knew.  And I haven't even gotten there.  Oh. I feel the butterflies in Juliana's stomach from here.  And I think tomorrow they will all get their flying lessons.
Come along with me on IG.
smooch! Anna
(AND! thank you so much for all of the print orders!  Jeff told me that I found a sneaky way to being an artist, which is both funny and true.  Your support of my art is gilded.  Thank you!)

I do this thing where

... I have a list of things to share so long, that it actually grows arms and proceeds to tie my hands behind my back.  So rather than taking the first thing's first approach, I will start with the finished thing first.  (oh so obvious yet so hard for me).

Art.  I made new fine art prints, and I am REALLY happy with them.  Maybe more than the first batch. But then it's all a matter of newness, isn't it.  Maybe.  They are listed over here.  I decided to only do an edition of 50 each on this collection.  I did 100 each in the first batch, and there are some quantities left of those still, but they are getting pretty thin.  Also these are a bit bigger, the smaller being 9x12 instead of 8x10 and the larger being 13x19 instead of 11x17. But the prices are the same.  Yippee!

Items on the to-share-more-soon list include:
*Sew Down Nashville was way too much fun and we made beautiful things
*cross-stitch patterns are arriving tomorrow, kits for them following soon after
*we are bulking the whole embroidery shop soon
*we are bulking the solid quilting cottons in the shop too
*I bulked a bit myself on Easter Sunday with lamb and potatoes though I won't actually be sharing anything to do with that beyond that mere mention there
*My remodel is done, I like it so very much
*Mary Anna is walking at 10 (flipping) months, this will probably have to come with video
*Lots of fabric is on the way, all kinds of it
*Juliana's thesis collection is in the Pratt fashion show which we are going to see next week in NYC
*That has me every kind of proud and glowing, which I might get an image of if the right person has a camera while said glowing is going down

And back to it.
kisses, Anna

Oh December

How did you get here?  Our days have been so very full.  With Mary Anna's Baptism planned for Saturday after Thanksgiving it wasn't until midday Monday before that I remembered something about a big meal on Thursday involving poultry and extra people in my house.  Oh yes.  That's right.  Additionally for a few weeks Jeff and I have been working little by little on our hall bathroom which has sorta been ignored in all of our years here.  I somehow can only see fit to make changes if I am allowed to gut and start over.  All or nothing.  But really this bath didn't require a gutting, just some thinking.  And scrubbing, scouring, scraping, plastering, sanding, painting, papering and prettying.  And I love it.  That paper snippet up there is a detail of this utterly too gorgeous to pass up wallpaper.  It was worth it since it covers such a small space but carries all the impact.  Anyway.  I would love to show you the whole room here soon. With that done I was ready to tackle the housecleaning for two days.  The baby was strapped to the front of me while I picked up or watching the washing machine from her bouncy seat while I folded clothes or asleep in her swing while I did the nittygritty.  We got it done her and I.  Once the kids were home for break I of course had to verbalize their share of cleaning to them repeatedly until it was done or until I verbalized it so much that I could have done it twelve times myself.  But that's how it works.  Anyway.  Our house was spiffy.  Which always makes me feel so ready to enjoy myself and enjoy our company.
Juliana flew in Tuesday night, and was attacked at the door by, well, all of us.  For a few hours each of the kids had to show her something they have been waiting to show her whether it was a new suchnsuch that she hadn't seen yet or a youtube video that hadn't been laughed at together yet.  I bought new sheets for the bed she uses in the nursery now when she's home.  They were freshly washed and tucked in place ready for her to plop down on that bed and sleep off the big city.  I think that was my favorite preparation.  I loved watching Mary soak her in slowly then the recognition warmed her to her biggest sister.  Sister cuddles.  So very wonderful.
Thursday brought my Dad, Jeff's brother, Dad and stepmom all for dinner with us.  Naturally it was all about food that day, but I didn't go too crazy.  I made my standard scalloped potatoes, turkey, ham, salad, and tiropita while my girls made two pumpkin pies, two pecan pies and a sausage apple stuffing.  In between cooking steps I joined the kids in front of the Wii a few times to dance my rear-end off while they laughed and beat me at the dancing game thingy that I can't remember the name of.  Mary Anna watched everyone all day.  She even threw her limbs around a little from her bouncy seat while we danced.  Certainly that was on purpose.  She's smart.  She watched and studied the less familiar faces.  She didn't miss anything.  Dinner was followed by what Nicolas likes to call a hootenanny.  Jeff, and his dad and brother joined forces on their guitars to play some bluegrass favorites.  Jeff sang more than normal as he has some DrivebyTruckers in his repertoire now.  Grandpa Jack serenaded MA and she couldn't take her eyes off of him.
Friday brought my sister from South Carolina who quickly got to the store with me to buy flowers for the reception tables.  If my sister Eleni is anywhere within 500miles and you need to do anything with flowers, either keep them alive, or talk about them or arrange them, she is your girl.  We had such a nice time picking them out.  I had such a nice time not arranging them.  She enjoyed every minute of me not helping her with that.  My brother was also in town by then from New York with his two oldest girls.  He and I made baklava.  I only wanted George to do the baklava with me so that mine would be better.  Which it was.  Then we all went to the movies including my dad who has not been to the movies in a million years.  Most of us were a little disappointed with the 2nd Hunger Games movie, some of us were just glad Papou paid for all of it, and others of us only went for the popcorn.  I imagine it might be another million years before he goes back.
The morning of the Baptism started with me putting ice in 120 glasses, placing my sister's bouquets on 15 tables then letting the caterers take over from there. The Baptism was so beautiful.  Her Godmother Kiki is such a tender and loving woman and we are so fortunate that she joins our family.  Mary Anna practically sprang from the font after being submerged three times without a tear or a wimper, only to begin talking to the 100 or so in attendance with giggles and joy.  It was remarkable.  Everyone noticed.  How blessed and sweet and unusual her response to the Sacrament was.  It was as though she wanted to know what was next because that was all just really fun and extraordinary.
Remnants of goodness are all around.  Extra beds with flannel sheets still set up that cousins slept on.  Couches shoved this way and that to make room for dancing. Handwashed knits drying flat and waiting for the next cold day.   Savory smells of past dinners being warmed and enjoyed again (and again).  Sweet bundles of jordan almonds from the Baptism. A gleaming ivory embroidered  baby gown hanging from the shelf that holds a picture of her Nani and me. 
Everything in and out of place and we are winding up the last of this year's strand.  So much more to go still.
xoxoAnna

Stitching On

97 years. We said goodbye to Jeff's Grandma yesterday, mostly just family gathered to remember and celebrate such a long, long life. I brought the baby and Roman a little later than everyone else to accommodate my nursing schedule and a long day for little ones. We turned into the cemetery and after a quick look around through the car windows and sweltering heat, Roman asked, "Is Nani here?" We've always called my mom Nani. "Nani is everywhere, sweetie'" I imagined out loud. "Her name is here now... on a pretty bronze plate, would you like to go and see it after we pray for Great Grandma?" A very firm and excited yes from the boy.  I've done the simple arithmetic in my head at least 100 times. 97-68=29yrs. Then the question. Why one so long, and another not nearly? I will never know. And it's not important, but the math. Over and over. We were glad for this sweet old woman, breathing her last, after wishing for it almost everyday since she lost her husband. I think she finally just willed it to happen, and it was granted. As we said our goodbyes under the small tent, I couldn't help but peer through some heads to my mother's resting place, a few hundred yards away. Could I see it? Yes, just past the statue of Ruth, just on top of that stone wall, and one row over... the pink and white flowers I could barely make them out I thought. Just past the bright yellow. And every few minutes I kept checking. Could I still see it? Yes. Still? Yes. Right There. I held Roman's sweaty little palm and we walked down the hill, carefully over and around other names, years, grass, anthills, flowers, hopes. We edged along the road towards her name, so much heat. He insisted on balancing along the curb, one foot in front of the other, which made us go slowly. My mind slower. Forced all of me to make the walk. My head, heart and body. I shed my black sweater. The same one I wore in those days. The black dress. The same one I wore that day. I recalled (for the 1000th time) how I told her I was not going to buy a black maternity dress. Right after she told me who should be her pall bearers. It was March, almost Spring. "Well okay, I don't think you'll have too," she said with the sweetest smile. But I did. I told myself that since it was also a nursing dress, that I would be nursing in it by the time I needed it, certainly. Certainly. Certainly. The math. Only a few months till the baby comes. Certainly I'll have them both.  Together.  At least for the tiniest amount of time.

Today I am in control of the smallest little things. Some thread. Some fabric. Should I nurse at 11:15? Or 11:20? I'll decide and then that will be what happens. And I will stitch on and on and on. Spring. Summer. Even now Fall. I go.

We reached her plate, Roman rubbed his hands over the letters, but quickly pulled back from the piping hot metal.  Then he wanted to get in the shade with his sister under the huge oak tree nearby so he ran, dodging plates, and I felt he should be more careful, or respectful.  Or that he should linger with me there longer, over her grave.  But then I corrected the thoughts.  And watched his joy with my own.  Because she is everywhere.   xoxoAM

Birth Day

Baby me.  I was caught off guard by tears spitting out last night as I was getting dressed to go for an early birthday dinner.  I realized I wouldn't get a card from my Mom today.  That she wouldn't be calling.  And that she is the reason that I have a birthday.  Juliana wouldn't let me say I'm okay and be alone when she noticed my tears.  She sat next to me and put her arms around me, and said she understands.   Jeff gave me the most beautiful necklace.  We had a delicious dinner, all of us packed into a booth, eating off of each other's plates.  Roman and I had a blanket my mom had knit for him keeping our laps warm.  Crowded.  Happy.  Full.  Mary Anna slept through it.  We had yummy Jeni's ice cream sandwiches when we got home.  Later, in the dark of my room as I nursed Mary Anna around 2am I felt myself sinking into her with my gaze.  Thinking of how Mom did just the same with me.  In the dark.  So close and tender.  In the shadowy parts of my emotion today I feel a bit orphaned.  If I allow myself to step into some light however, there is just so much. 

My mother-in-law sent me a Nordstroms gift card.  I think I'll go spend it today.  My phone started buzzing early this morning, across the room.  I guessed in my mind who was texting, calling.  I was right.  Pierrette brought me a Fat Tire and a cupcake about the same size.  My sister Eleni sent me a picture of Mom and I at the beach from years ago, gazing out at the water together.  Sitting just the same on the sand.  Same broad shoulders.  She said she was sorry I had to have the first birthday without Mom.  She made it better for me.  Juliana suggested manicures and pedicures later today.

Then a voicemail from my dad who has never been known for remembering anyone's birthday because he has never had to.  He sang Happy Birthday to me. I wasn't expecting it.  And I had already decided that I was fine if he didn't remember.  But there it was, my favorite gift.  I sat on the edge of my bed crying, holding the phone.  And one hand over my mouth, as he sang through his thick Greek accent (which gave me a little laugh too).  Echoing, no doubt, through his big house.  But I heard joy in his voice when he followed it with "I can't believe my baby is in her 40s."

Me either, Daddy.
I know she celebrates me still.  I feel it.
xoAnna