here I am...

Hey peeps…! I am here. Just as I imagine you are, dealing with this dumpster fire (trumpster fire), pandemic paralyzation. Trying to stay upright and some version of stable and/or sane. Succeeding and failing in equal parts on a daily basis.  I am very sorry that I left this space with that post about Scholarships as my last word. It has been nagging at me for months, but I just couldn’t. I don’t know what else to say.

Seven to nine months in, depending on how you note the beginning, some things have evened out. Others have gotten much worse. Next Tuesday makes my stomach ache and my palms sweat if I think about it. So trying not to too much. I am ducking in to acknowledge this shitshow we’re living in, and add my voice and psyche to the collective action of coping with it. I have no answers. I have lots of questions. (How the hell is that asshole-in-chief getting away with all this? Is there really no way to stop him short of voting? Are there really not enough people with will who believe in our democracy enough to take him and all his crooked cronies out of office…?)  My days since the pandemic began have been much the way many of yours have been. Pandemic brain is real folks. Do a search for it, get some validation for the way you feel. I am feeding myself, getting mostly adequate sleep, staying connected to friends and family, and generally treading water in a comprehensive manner. The dog and cat are properly cared for, my house is not filthy, I haven’t bounced any checks, my lights are on.  Wherever possible I have been giving money to help fight the myriad fights we have around us. I applied months ago to be a poll worker on election day but was told they had enough volunteers. Now will get training on Monday to be an election observer on Tuesday.  I pity the trumpster who messes with me. 

My Making has waxed and waned. With the retreats on hold I channeled that creativity into a Summer wardrobe. For the past five years at least I have been too busy to sew warm weather clothing in season. I have remedied that situation. Shorts, dresses, swim suits, linen tops…! But Making does require attention, or focus, and some measure of concentration. I have found myself standing in the middle of my studio holding a seam ripper, or pins, or a pattern piece, and wondering what the hell I was supposed to do next. Knitting seems more my speed, as I can do it from the couch. With the dog as company. She loves this arrangement and nags me when I am in the studio. In the past my knitting has been a way to sit in difficult or uncomfortable situations and be present. So it is only fitting that it is doing the same for me now. 

I am getting bored with my own cooking. I am appalled at how often I need to do laundry. I don’t know why the house doesn’t stay clean longer after I vacuum. I thought I just bought animal food. I thought I already paid those bills. I thought it was supposed to be sunny today. I can’t find my nail file. I can’t find the dog adoption papers. I can’t take another day seeing that asshole’s face.  I miss hugging my friends. I miss seeing crowds of people moving through space. I miss dance classes. I miss going out to eat in a restaurant. I am sick of being angry and scared and frustrated. I have outrage fatigue. I have too much yarn and fabric, STILL. I have a feeling of existential dread. I am glad I have so many good memories to revisit. I am glad I am not 21. I am glad I got a dog in March. I am endlessly grateful that I have the means to support myself through this time. I am grateful I have good friends far and wide who I can comfort and who comfort me. I am grateful for the young people who have rung my door in the last two weeks asking if I will vote. 

Planning anything beyond the next meal feels foolhardy right now. It is still my intention to hold my retreats again. I sincerely hope that will be in the Summer of 2021. I can feel the collective hope of my fellow Slow Stitchers that they will come to be again. Just yesterday I read my post from after the Summer of 2019 retreats, and I cried for a moment remembering the space we all held together, and how much we need that right now, and how it is unavailable to us, right now. I have to believe we will get back there. There is no reason to believe we won’t. I guess the question is just when. And right now there is no answer to that question. There are too many unknown variables in the equation that takes us back to Medomak. Back to the barn and the lake and the porch. Please do not despair that we will not return, because that way lays madness. We have our stitching to hold in our hands as tangible reminders that we will persevere. We will get through this. We will gather again, and share how we coped through these dark days. It will be so deliciously sweet when we can get back to that porch with the rockers, and the Summer air, and the expectation of a simple tasty dinner prepared for us when the bell rings.  If we are able, we will hug. We will look into each other’s faces, into each other’s eyes, and see our love and support beaming back at us.  It’s all there now, we just can’t manifest it over the distance. But hang on, we will get back there.

So this is a long winded way of saying I don’t know when I will be able to produce them again unequivocally, but my intention is to bring us together again Summer of 2021 at Medomak for Slow Stitching, and probably a Slow Fashion as well. So stay with me, stay engaged, keep Making, keep believing, keep persevering, keep demanding justice, keep holding people accountable, keep being kind and gentle with yourself.  We can do hard things. We can do this….

Samantha, who loves you all….