Beth Ferrier’s Blog

In some circles, it’s known as “but first” disease. You know what I mean. I have this list of things to write about, “but first” I need to write about that, and I have no pictures. So the blog stalls. It happens to me when ever my to-do list grows too long. For example:

I need to write a pattern.

But first, I need to send supplies for the next teaching trip.

But first, I need to find out how many students and how big the lecture crowd will be.

But first, I need to get the laundry started.

But first, I need to bring the dirty clothes downstairs.

But first, I need to get the coffee started.

You get the drift. Pretty soon forty-five minutes have passed and I’m still dinking around on Facebook, trying to figure out which “first” on the list will get me going. Eventually I come to my senses and just pick one item and get going. Oddly enough, it’s usually making the coffee. Hmm. Maybe I should set up the coffee maker in the evening to greet me with fresh coffee first thing in the morning. But first I need to, well, there’s always something.

So, I’m writing this silly blog post to get things moving again. (Pun intended.) And even though I have many things to tell you that I really should have already told you, today I’m telling you that I’m currently in Huntington Beach, CA. I’ll be doing my lecture in a couple hours (but first I need to dry my hair and put on my face). Here’s hoping this little “relaxitive” will be just the thing to help me stop trying to write the perfect blog, and just write.

This precious little boy just turned three. He’s such a good natured little guy, easy going, just like his daddy. His smile and giggle light up the world.

I think he has my eyes. He looks more like his daddy every day. It’s such a gift, isn’t it, how grandchildren spark our memories? A fleeting expression, a word, a touch and I am right back, twenty-five years ago, when Nathan was three.

I loved those days, when the boys were young. I loved the way they revealed themselves to me, glimpses of their character, their talents and strengths. I always felt that it was my job to help them find their best selves, not try to mold them into my expectations.

Having grandchildren is the best antidote for any bits of empty nest syndrome I might have suffered.

Alex and mommy Amanda open birthday gifts. Honestly, we couldn’t have asked for a better mom to our grandchildren. She and Nate make excellent babies!

 Amanda made the adorable Buzz Lightyear cake. This year it’s all about Toy Story.

In addition to the guest of honor, we had baby Nicole doing her best to upstage the star of the day.

Here’s our little redheaded girl. Her big blue eyes are a wonder to this family of squinty-eyed boys. (That comes from their dad’s side. Really.) Just over three months and she’s sitting up like a champ.

This is Amanda’s sister, Jessica. You can plainly see where that red hair came from.

Here’s our little scene-stealer with her other grandparents. I think she looks a lot like her grandpa John. Amanda has a special relationship with her dad, it always touches me to see it.

We had a lovely day for the party. For a few special hours our home was filled with laughter and joy and entirely too much food.

In just a few hours I’ll be heading towards six days of teaching in Mississippi, in July. Since my inner child has been playing with matches for many years now, I’ll admit, I’m concerned about the heat. Let’s face it, there’s only so much clothing one can remove and still be street legal.

I’m assuming that folks in the south run from air conditioning to air conditioning the way we northerners run towards the warmth in the dead of winter. Perhaps I’ll even sweat off a few pounds while I’m there (one can hope). Oh, wait, I forgot, I’m going to the civilized south, I mean perspire.

One way or another, I’m really looking forward to my time in Ole Miss. Just last month I was in St. Cloud, MN, in a classroom that overlooked the Mississippi River. This week I’ll be closer to the mouth of the river than ever before. Someday I’d like to see the beginning and the end of the Mississippi. The river has always been a life metaphor for me. It starts out so small, and grows to be strong. While it may wander a bit in the middle it supports life and provides for others. Those who fail to take it seriously end in ruin. And then it finishes in grand style, pouring all it has left into the sea. We could all hope to do so well.

The last things to go in my suitcase are my evening diversions. I must admit that I shudder in horror at the thought of having nothing to do. That’s not to say that I’m incapable of doing nothing (shut up Karen), and after a good day of teaching, sometimes nothing is about all I have left. So I’ve tossed in enough yarn to make two pairs of socks. And I’ve tossed in a piece that I’ve appliqued, along with embroidery floss and beads. And I have three books on my ipod. Hmm, maybe I’d better toss in another skein of yarn, or pull the fabric for another small applique project.

I envy those bloggers who seem to have an endless supply of fascinating topics. I’m not one of them. My life is pretty darn boring and average, and I must admit, I really like it that way.

Once the excitement of spring planting is past, we settle into the boring but gratifying task of maintaining the garden. I think it might be my ADHD, but I really like putting things in order. Mindless tasks, like pulling weeds, are perfect for settling my dizzy brain, giving ideas a chance to form and settle. But weeding the garden is a pretty boring topic for a blog post.

I’ve been working on virtual quilts for Northcott. It’s really kind of cool getting jpg files of fabric before it’s even printed. I use Corel Draw to cut it into pieces and assemble those pieces into a quilt, perfectly to scale. But I can’t show the designs to you until the fabric is printed and arriving in stores. More boring blog stuff.

I’ve also been working away at a series of three articles for Quilter’s Newsletter Magazine. Now that is way exciting for me. I’ve always thought that QN was one of the very best quilting magazines out there, all grown up, if you will. I’m so honored to have this opportunity. But I can’t show you the projects until the magazines come out. Boring.

So, all of this is a long way of saying that, yes, I’m still alive. Yes, I’m still working on stuff. But for now it’s blissfully boring.

Why is it that I never remember that I’m supposed to avoid sticky food until after the crown is rolling around in my mouth?

In my own defense, I chose the tootsie roll because the package said it was a fat-free food! While I refuse to be on a diet, I am trying to make less stupid food choices. Since I had hardly slept a wink (a common problem for me, especially when traveling) I just wanted a little energy boost to carry me through the rest of the workshop. I got one, only it wasn’t the sugar high I had hope for, but a rush of adrenalin as I retrieved the crown.

I have terrible teeth, terrible. Even though I brush and floss carefully, my teeth break, usually at the most inopportune times. I’m sure it has something to do with having no real dental care until I was a teenager, and my habit of clenching my teeth when I’m stressed. Over the years I’ve had nearly all of my teeth replaced with crowns. Sometimes I wonder what all that gold is worth.

Of course it couldn’t be a simple matter of just gluing the crown back in place. No, I broke it well and good. Only a root canal could repair the damage, so off to a specialist I went.

This guy was a real character, snowy white hair cropped short to his head, genial face. But, oh my, the fuss he made! Muttering good naturedly under his breath, almost talking to himself, he listed all the stumbling blocks to a good outcome. He did pause to admit (with a wink) that he is, indeed, very good at what he does, and isn’t that lucky for me.  In the end, all the harrumphing and complaining about how challenging it would be took longer than the proceedure.

Listening to the doctor and his helpers banter it was clear that they enjoyed their work. Their quiet confidence helped me to relax, and, believe it or not, I left the office smiling.  How I’ll feel when the anesthetic wears off remains to be seen.

The thing about a garden is that it’s never really done, and that’s a good thing. It’s all about the process, not the results. This is my rose garden, or at least the start of it. The concrete urn is new this year. I got it for a song. A corner of the base was broken off, a corner of the base that is hidden by the mulch, so they sold it to me at half price. Sold! It weighs a ton, but then that’s what we have boys for.

 The climbing roses are going great guns this year, their second in the garden. Looks like maybe by next year they will make it to the top of the trellis.

In the front garden, the lavender is just about to bloom. I love lavender. I love the fresh, clean scent. I love the bluish purply wands of color. I love the gray-green, spikey foliage. It seems to grow quite happily here, I have it in several places around the house.

My favorite lavender spot is in the garden along the path to the back door. It’s slightly overgrown its bed, gently brushing our legs as we return home, releasing its calming fragrance as a welcome.

Life is really pretty quiet around here, and I’m not complaining. I spend my days at the computer, designing virtual quilts to help advertise Northcott’s new fabric lines. Or puttering around the garden. Or doing everyday chores. Or just listening to the birds and savoring warm summer days. It’s good when life is slow, very good.

The warm weather takes its own sweet time in getting to us here in Saginaw. Winter is a guest who stays long after its welcome is worn away. Any who dares to plant before mid-May is tempting fate. We’ve had snow as late as Mother’s Day.

As I’m sure you’re tired of hearing, my automotive misadventure has kept me from my usual springtime garden clean up. With my right hand restricted to no use, light use and then careful use, the most I could manage was about forty-five minutes every few days. But last Friday the ortho doc proclaimed me healed. It will take some time yet to have full use or be pain-free, but the broken bone is healed.

So I went to the garden center. Most of my gardens are perennials, but we have planters, urns and hanging baskets that are filled with annuals.

I always wait until I’ve seen what wonders the horticulturists have produced for us before I decide on a color scheme. I love geraniums, they are so old fashioned and so freely blooming. They are usually the backbone of my plan.

After finding a yummy veriegated pink variety, I settled on pink with white and blue accents for the front planters.

As for the back, I decided to go with all white flowers in the planters. My roses are finally established and promise to keep us in color. The white theme in the planters will give a nice, fresh splash, and add a bit of sparkle for evening entertaining.

This is our front porch, off the kitchen. I have yet to dress it up for summer, but the rockers are out. The hanging baskets look a little spare now, but they will fill in quickly.

This is the view from the drive way. The garden is being over run by lily of the valley. The scent is heavenly now, but in another week I will be yanking it out, cursing myself for being so soft hearted about volunteers. Since we do this dance every spring, I’m not worried about pulling too many. Maybe this year I’ll toss some of them into the woods and see if they stick.

 And since I don’t have enough to do, I’ve managed to convince Kent that we need another shot at the garden at the edge of the field. Our first attempt, a vegetable garden, turned out to be a deer buffet.

This year, plan is to plant a cutting garden. Next July (2011), that expanse of yard between my rototilling son, Caleb, and the house will be filled with a tent for his wedding to Elaine. It’s a dream come true to host a wedding here, one I never expected, being the mother of sons. We’ll be putting extra effort into the gardens this year so they can provide the perfect backdrop for Caleb and Elaine’s wedding day.

The Ferrier family welcomed a new member on March 31st. Nicole Lynn arrived by c-section at about 7:45 am, weighing 9lbs 6 ounces and 21 1/2 inches long. Of course, we think she is perfect in every way. Daddy (my oldest son, Nathan), big brother Alex and Mommy Amanda give baby Nicole the warm welcome she deserves.

Kent and I were thrilled to make it to the hospital just in time to greet our new granddaughter.

Kent’s usually the one taking the pictures, it’s about time we caught him in front of the camera. I was really happy that she decided to arrive before my trip to Oklahoma, but it was super hard to hand her back to her mom and other grandma while I was off doing what I do!

I must admit, I was more than a little nervous about making my first teaching trip after the accident. I’ve been so sedentary, healing, that I was not sure I’d have the stamina to make it through three lectures and four day-long workshops. Luckily everyone was very understanding about letting me hide out in my hotel room, resting, between jobs. I’m so grateful to all the wonderful quilters who did the heavy lifting for me. Lugging big suitcases and boxes of class supplies are part of the job, and a part that I don’t easily foist onto others.

It was, in the end, very good for me to be back in the classroom. I love to teach. Being with quilters fills me with energy and inspiration. It’s nice to know that even when I’m not at my tip top shape I can still offer a good and fun class. Knowing that sure helps in the dark times when life is handing out lemons.

While not a requirement, it’s handy to have a light box for my Hand Applique by Machine technique class. I’ve seen all sorts of them, store bought and home made. But I almost fell over laughing when Mary demonstrated her “laptop lightbox”.  I’m always impressed by how resourceful quilters can be.

I also need to thank Lerlene Nevaril, president of the Bartlesville, OK quilt guild. My last day of classes fell on my birthday, and Lerlene surprised me with a perfect cake: white cake and frosting and red roses! It was totally unexpected and left me speechless (really!).

This week I have been playing grandma. I’m off to Holland, Mi to help out my daughter in law and cuddle my grandchildren. Alex is nearly three, and he just keeps getting more spectacular. Watching him play takes me right back to when his daddy was little. Can you see the tiger that he’s chasing? Me either, but Alex kept me safe all afternoon, hot on the tail of that mean tiger. He insisted that I sit on the hill at the back of the yard while he chased and chastised that pesky tiger. And just often enough, he would run up the hill to me, to give me a reassuring hug, and to let me know that he’d keep keep that mean tiger away. My heart is full.

Baby sister Nicole just gets more beautiful every day. She’s a good natured baby, nursing well and beginning to stretch out the time between meals. Looks like she’s going to be a red head! I always wanted a red headed child, but it doesn’t run on either side of our family trees. Amanda brought red hair with her, and I’m thrilled to see it. It’s been a bit of a challenge, jumping straight from teaching to grandma-ing, but we’ve all been taking naps when the kids sleep. Naps are underappreciated, I’m thinking about allowing time for one in my classes.

I was really happy to have my cast removed at four weeks after the accident, but not at all happy to find out that my use of the hand was still just as restricted. The brace is so much nicer, especially the part about being able to remove it for showers. But the doc reminded me that the bone was still healing, not healed. No lifting more than a soup can, no yard work (very frustrating as spring is arriving and my gardens are calling to me), still no scissors.

I’ve just had my eight week check up and I’m still in the brace for six more weeks. I am not a happy camper. But I’m trying hard to follow doctor’s orders and keep my mood up. I’m sorry to say that the start of the next block of the month project is going to be delayed until May 15th. I have it started, but no where near ready to post. I’m trying to get back on track, but I’m afraid to say, my applique train was really derailed. Don’t you just hate when real life gets in the way of your quilting?

Having one hand in a cast and the other in not-so-great shape gives one lots of time to think. The forced inactivity of recovery has frustrated the “doer” in me. Being run down while in a red car, lights on and horn blaring has reinforced my feeling of being invisible. (I am always surprised when people remember me or notice my work. Really. Still.) Don’t be alarmed if I appear at your guild one day with gray and pink hair, I fear I may be reentering my “starved for attention” phase of glitz and gilding.

 The purple cast was just the beginning. I knew that sporting a cast would call attention, but I wanted that attention on my terms. (Oh, my, control issues, wouldn’t you say?) I didn’t want sympathy (well, maybe just a little), I wanted smiles. Off to my stash of hot fix crystals. What? You don’t have a stash of hot fix crystals? I thought everyone did! I mean really, what if you have a bling emergency?

I started with the fire opal for the centers, added pink and purple gems for the petals and the sweetest citrine green for the leaves. It cracks me up when folks notice the cast and then smile. I’ve been tempted to do more but there is such a fine line between Rodeo Drive and trailer trash.

To satisfy my fiber cravings I have tried doing more punchneedle work. Using the same design from the earlier project (with my mouse hand out of commision there’s been no way to work up anything new), I added flowers to a very boring “Welcome” base I had bought, um, eight years ago. I had started the project using wool strips and a rug hook. I got as far as “We”,decided it was too boring and there it’s sat until now.

Thinking that I could handle the simple punchneedle with my left hand I pulled out the wool strips, embellished “Welcome” with some flowers, thank goodness I was able to trace the flowers with a sharpie and my left hand. I reloaded it into my hoop and punched away, this time with yarn from my colorwork stash.

I can only work for a short time before my left hand tires, but at least it’s something fiber related. I’m not sure how much of a convert I am to punchneedle, seems kind of boring, just pushing that needle through the cloth. But then knitting is nothing more that repeated motions, so maybe I’ll find the zen of it in time. But I keep thinking what a great applique design it would be, but I’m a thumb short of that project for now.

The best angle from which to approach any problem is the try-angle. ~Author Unknown 

It’s funny, isn’t it, how life sorts itself out. Seemingly random choices can all add up to an entirely different sum. It appears to me that I have spent my whole life preparing for a career that I didn’t even know existed until 14 years ago. The writing and publishing classes I took in college, mostly just to fill the time until Kent graduated, have helped me launch my own pattern company.

A bunch of quilt teachers were chatting recently about how much math we use in our design work. For some it’s their least favorite part. But not me. I love the math! There is nothing more exciting than a fresh new story problem to solve! I love the ciphering part, working out the cutting order so it’s most efficient. 

And don’t get me started on the joy of creating “systems”, oh, be still my heart! My classes in chemistry helped me to understand processes and ”rate determining steps.” Who knew that information would apply to quiltmaking? I love designing processes for making piecing and applique easier. As I’m working out the steps for creating a pieced block or a new applique design I’m constantly questioning, how can I do this better, and can I do it in fewer steps.

I’m always amazed at how my classes  in special education have transfered to perfectly to teaching adult women how to quilt. Or how raising four ADHD sons has improved my classroom management style.

When you’re a kid and you ask an adult “why?”, they often assume that you’re questioning their authority. I was always in trouble for asking why. But it was information that I was seeking, if you know the reason behind a task you may be able to exploit that, for an easier outcome, or even a brand new process. Who knows what wonderous things we can discover if we just try.

(And so far, no, I can’t hold knitting needles with my right hand in it’s current position, or scissors. But I’m happy that I learned how to rotary cut with my left hand. It’s too soon to use my cast hand to hold the ruler, but it won’t be long…)