Ink

I may have mentioned that Dayna and I
got new tattoos on Saturday.

A little shop called
True Blue Tattoo
on sixth and Red River
in downtown Austin.

Or "dirty sixth" as it's called.
Apparently.

We chose our tattoo artist,

because of her amazing ability
to create beautiful
extraordinary
beyond belief
color.

Crisp.
Sharp.
Exquisite.

The rose on her business card?
It's a tattoo.

Dayna went first.
Because she is braver than I am.
Which is to say that she was afraid she would chicken out
if she had to watch me go first.

And,
as it happens,
she would have.
As I screamed.
And cried.
And cussed like a sailor.

More on that later.

But Dayna was a champ.

Even though it did hurt.
At least a little.

Cara did an awesome job.

Dayna's phoenix looks stunning.

Once she was done
it was my turn.

I have a low back tattoo, see.
And I haven't loved it for quite some time.
I have been thinking of ways to add on to it
make it look less like a "tramp stamp"
and a little more like a tattoo.
Like art.
Like something that held some meaning
and looked
....
pretty.

I told this to Cara.
That I wanted birds.
Maybe some flowers, too.

And this
after an hour of twitching
writhing
screaming
clenching
kicking
biting
and cussing
is what she created using
my vague description of what I wanted
and her ridiculous tattoo prowess:

The tribal design was the existing tattoo
the outlined parts are Cara's addition.

I will go back in three weeks to add shading
and lots
and lots
color.

I
cannot
wait.

Tattoos might not be your thing
and that's okay.

But this tattoo
is a big deal
to me.
Each bird
represents one of my girls,

Elena
and
Stella

while simultaneously being a tribute
to both my grandmother Helen and her love of Cardinals
and to Lucinda and her birdie.

Yesterday was my Gramma's birthday.
Or rather it would have been.

Sunday is the anniversary of Cooper's death.

And next Thursday is Stella's 1st birthday.

When the tattoo was finished
it was difficult for me not to cry.

Because this one
more than any of my others
means
so
very
very much.

Which makes the pain
so very worth it.

Cheers,
A

Dear Cooper,

Thank you.

Dear Lucinda,

Today is going to be hard.

Really hard.

You're going to hurt.

A lot.

Cry.

Ache.

As much as you did two years ago.

In that time,

you have come so far

and done so much for so many.

Touched so very many lives.

Including mine.

Cooper was so very lucky to have you 

as his mama.

Even if only for three short weeks.

And Chace is doubly blessed.

You.

Cooper.

Win.

I still shudder when I think of all you have been through.

All you have lost.

The impossible journey that you were forced to embark upon.

Without your permission.

Without just cause. 

I still wrestle with being thankful 

grateful

that you are in my life

knowing that it is your extreme heartache

that brought us together.

I still say all the wrong things.

I probably always will.

Today may be no exception.

And on this

the day that Cooper would have turned two years old

I fear that the only thing I have to offer you

is a few 

simple

words:

there is something you must always remember:
You are braver than you believe
stronger than you seem
and smarter than you think.
But the most important thing is
even if we are apart....
I'll always be with you.
                               ~Winnie the Pooh.


I love you, Luc.
As if I've known you my whole life.
As if,
somehow,
our souls are sisters.

I'm with you today.
I'm standing in your kitchen
at that great coffee machine
reminding you

to get out of bed.
breathe in and out.
and let the hole hurt.

Because it will.
Because it can.

And because
what happened
what was taken from you
what you've been forced to endure....

it's not okay.

but you?
you are

amazing.

xo
A

Lucinda Snyder. And Me.

Many of you have sent me messages
asking how I met Lucinda.
How we became friends.

I suppose the best way to answer that question,
the best forum in which to do so,
is to blog.

I don't know where to begin,
so I suppose,
as is best with all stories,
I shall start at the beginning.

I started knitting when Elena was 3 months old.  I was at Rebecca's house for a superbowl party.  Being the football fanatic that I am, I needed something to keep me occupied during those pesky commercials.  Rebecca knits.  Rather well, I might add, and so I asked her to kindly teach me.  I had done it once before, years ago when I lived in Chicago and had no money, no friends, no job, and nothing better to do with my time, but I had long since forgotten how to do it.  She obliged and taught me the basics.  Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months and over time I tried my hand at a few different projects.  A dog sweater.  A baby sweater.  A hat.
A hat!
Then another hat.
And another one.
And I couldn't. Stop. Knitting. Hats.  So I bought a book.  Susan B. Anderson's book, Itty Bitty Hats, to be precise.  I knit some more hats.  Then a few more, just for good measure.  Then spring turned to summer, and summer faded into the fall.  I picked up my needles again and knit my way through another cold Minnesota winter.  Eventually I found my way over to Susan's blog.  I started reading.  I checked in from time to time, and often I would come across interesting ideas and inspiration for new hats.  Then I came across her post about Lucinda.  And Cooper's Flock.  And I instantly commented on Susan's giveaway and flew over to Luc's blog to read all about her little boy.
I read.
Then I read more.
And I couldn't. Stop. Reading.
I couldn't stop crying, either.
I sat there, in my cubicle, paralyzed by grief for her loss.
I imagined if something had happened to Elena.  If I had only gotten three weeks with her instead of the 15 or so I had, at that time, been blessed with.
Then I cried some more.
Lucinda never heard Cooper's big, hearty belly laugh.
Or felt him cuddle back.
Or woke up in the middle of the night to a teething baby who just wouldn't sleep.
She never got to read him stories.
Celebrate Christmas.
Watch him take his first steps and beam with pride while aching for him to just...slow...down a little.
She never got to squeeze him too tight while he tried to wiggle away and beg him not to grow up so fast.
To stay her little birdie forever.

She never got to do a lot of things.
So I emailed her.
I would make her birds.
As many as my fingers (and my wallet) would allow.
I would get as many people to help as I could.
And that is exactly what I did.

I wanted to help her heal.
I wanted, so badly, to make her pain go away.  To let her know that she wasn't alone.

We emailed back and forth occasionally, but it was months before we started conversing regularly.  I really don't know how or when, precisely, that we began talking more frequently.  We just, sort of, did.  It started through our blogs. She'd comment on mine, and then vise versa.  We spent a large part of our friendship in blogland.
She helped convince me to move to Austin.  She grew up in Texas.  Midland or Odessa.  I get them confused.  She has family here, and was certain that if we came to Texas, her and I would get to meet.  Or that we'd be much more likely to.
Luc went to Santa Fe for a wedding shortly after I moved to Austin.  We were emailing back and forth, about what I can't exactly recall, but in one of my replies, I asked for her phone number.  She let me know that she wasn't a huge talker, but that she texted like a teen. I told her I was in.
We started texted the very next day.
We haven't stopped.
Save the two weeks she was in Greece, and the four days I was in New York.
Obviously.
We decided to make a friendship quilt. I blogged all about it.
Then I decided to flit off to NY for a weekend.  I blogged about that, too.

For a moment, as I was sitting in the O'Hare airport waiting for my connection to Rochester, I thought I was crazy.  I thought I had completely lost my mind.  I called DRL.
"What am I doing?  Seriously?  I'm freaking NUTS.  What am I doing?!?! This is so weird."
"Yeah, it's weird, honey." DRL said.  "But not in a bad way.  It's going to be fine. You're going to have fun.  You'll see."

He always knows how to make me feel better.
Calm me down.
Then again, he's had 9 years of practice.  And, hello?  Have you met me?
I need calming quite frequently.  DRL is very well versed at it.

But I digress.

I calmed down, boarded the plane, and made my way to Rochester.  We touched down and I turned my phone on and texted Luc, "On the ground."
"Waiting inside" was all she said.
My heart skipped a little.
And then I started walking.
As fast as I could managed given I was gravely weighed down by a larger than normal camera diaper bag and a (heavy-as-heck-and-I-am-sick-of-carting-you-through-an-airport) baby.

I came around a corner, on my way to baggage claim, and saw a big glass enclosure keeping us secure passengers away from all the crazies carrying nail files, lighters, and liquids in quantities larger than 3 ounces.  Then I saw Luc.  Looking as anxiously for me as I was for her.  All day I had been worried I might not recognize her.  She shares about as many photos as herself as I do me (so you can see why I would be given cause to worry).  But I knew her instantly.  I waved. She waved back. I made it through the doors.  I ran a little.  Well, hobbled, is more accurate.  Then I hobbled faster.  And we hugged.  And laughed.  And cried, just a little.  Then we let go. Laughed.  And hugged some more.
After that moment, it was if we had known each other our whole lives.  As if there was absolutely nothing strange about the circumstances that brought us together. That brought me to New York.
As if I was spending the weekend with Nadia, whom I've known since the 4th grade. Or Rebecca, who is as much my sister-in-law as, well, as my actual sister-in-law.

We have very different pasts.
But are still very much alike.
We are both insanely driven.
Overachievers.
We both have our share of quirks.
Lucinda only eats with little forks, and she uses the big spoon for cereal.  She drinks tea, not coffee, and she is quiet.
I prefer the big fork. I like coffee. Forever and ever, amen.  I am not quiet.  Not even a little.  Especially not when it's called for.
(thank you, Luc, for not yelling at me to shut my mouth, already.  I'm sure you wanted to. At least once. Or twice.)
But, like she said over on her blog, it doesn't matter where we came from.
We are here.
Now.
What matters is what we do with that now.
Where we go in the future.
The kind of women, mothers, friends, we become.

Many of you have asked if the trip lived up to my expectations, but I did not have any expectations for the weekend.  I only wanted to go.  To do.  To be.  And that is exactly what happened.

Lucinda told me Cooper's story.  In her own words, from start to finish.
We went to the garden that was planted as a memorial of his precious life.
I saw photos of him.
I read a lovely book that Marta made for Lucinda and Jamey, chronicling his journey on this earth.    
And I cried. And cried.  I went to the bathroom so I could collect myself.
I dried my eyes, walked downstairs, and told Lucinda it was a lovely book.
"Not really easy reading," she said.
We shared a look, with damp eyes, that could only be described as whole and complete understanding.
A moment passed.
Silent.
And without another moment's pause began discussing the gorgeous Janome sewing machine that was sitting, on loan, on her kitchen table.

We drank wine.
We ate good food.
I introduced the Snyder-Gerenski's to Tator Tot Hot dish.
As well as the word, "hot dish."
We got mani's and pedi's.
We ate pumpkin scones from Starbucks.
We sewed, a little.
We watched the Horns lose to UCLA.
We watched the Bills lose to Tom Brady and his awful hair.

Then it was time for Stella and I to leave.
We went to the airport and Luc and I gave each other another hug.  With damp eyes.
A little tighter than the first.
And we said, "See you soon" instead of goodbye.

Which is exactly what we'll do.

Thank you for an amazing weekend, Lucinda.

Cheers,
A


(PS: The photo was taken on the plane as Stella and I neared Austin on our way home.)

How To Make An American Quilt

Remember Cooper?

I remember Cooper.
And I never knew him.
Yet when I close my eyes I can see his face.
It truly is the strangest thing.

How do you miss someone you never knew?
How do you grieve for a life that was gone before you knew of its existence?

With great caution,
and courageous might.

I have been working on this blog post for nearly two  years.
I have never put in words what Cooper's life has done for me.
The hole his death has left in my heart.
I was always afraid that my grief
for the little boy I never knew
was somehow
misplaced.

Wrong.

Strange.

But I have realized the reason for such profound sorrow
and magnificent joy
when I think Cooper's name.

Lucinda.

She says I am her gift from Cooper.

Perhaps she is mine.

I think that her soul and mine

were sisters somehow.

In another time

and place.

And we were brought together again

in this life

by Lucinda's precious baby boy.

The boy with a devilish grin

and a halo of hair.

Like an angel.

I cannot think of Cooper without 

at once

crying and smiling.

I cannot imagine what the memory of him must do to his momma.
His daddy, too.

It seemed fitting that the first block I made
for the quilt Lucinda and I are making together
honor him.

His legacy.

His birds.

The middle of the block: 

an owl and a pussycat. 

Friends.

Not a care in the world.

(The owl was Athena's bird, by the way)

The main fabric in the block Lucinda made.
The owl and the pussycat.

Serendipity?
Fate?

Neither of us knows what the blocks the other is making
look like.

They are a surprise.

I have three more done.
I cannot blog them until I send them.

I am curious to see if there are more similarities in our block-making.

I cannot wait to see this quilt come together.
It will serve as a constant reminder
of the ties that bind.

How the hearts of friends
may be separated
by time
or distance
but will find a way
to each other.

I am so blessed to have met you, Lucinda.
I am thankful for you every day.

I hope that
when we finally
"meet"
that you don't think I'm a giant dork.

Oh wait, I AM a giant dork.

Cheers,
A

The Cooper Beanie

I have had an idea for this hat for Luc's new baby, lovingly referred to by her as "the bean," since I learned of his existence.

I wanted a way to honor his brother, Cooper, while creating something new.

Something made especially with the bean in mind.

And so the "Cooper Beanie" was born.

I shipped it off to Lucinda last week.
I am happy to report that she loved it.

I am still waiting for news of the bean's arrival.
I can't wait to see him in it.

I am so happy that knitting has given me an outlet to be creative, to design, and to make special things for others.

I am thankful for it.

There truly is nothing better than receiving a hand-made gift.

Except maybe diamonds.
And camera lenses.

And 5 year aged cheddar.

And Lindor Truffles.

But that's it.

Cheers!
A

Flaking It

This hat took me 6 attempts to complete.  

Ok fine.

Eight.

Nine if you count the snowflake hat I made for my brother last year as an attempt.
I didn't carry the yarn well.
It didn't even stretch enough to fit Elena's head.
For you fellow knitters...you know that's bad.
90 stitches on size 8's and the hat didn't fit a one year old.
Ouch.

After that failure, I gave up on fair isle.
Until I heard Lucinda  was pregnant.
Then I just knew I had to learn. Had to master the art of it.

After 6 failed attempts (ok ok! Eight) I enlisted the internets for help.
I typed "Fair Isle" into You Tube's search box and watched two videos.
I read a page in Stitch and Bitch.
Then I tried again.
Because I had to.

I am a hat maker, see.
I love to make hats for babies.
If I know you and I know you're having a baby, you will get a hat from me.
It's what I do.

But Luc's hat had to be special.

A plain ol cap just wouldn't do.
Not for her.
Not for the bean.
Not for Cooper's little brother.

So I set off designing a hat for her new little one.

This is not that hat.

But it had to be completed for me to feel confident enough to put into stitches the pattern I have written for the bean.

I started on it tonight. 

I'm skipping the gym to work on it.

He could come any day now so time....

as they say...

is of the essence.

Cheers,

A

College Bound. Again.

I had my registration session at St Kate's last night, and I'm all set to begin classes on April 3rd. I'm taking "The Reflective Woman," a writing intensive course that is required for all Katie graduates, and "Business Law." I have a paper and 100 page reading assignment due the first day of class. I think I'm going to have my work cut out for me with this weekend college stuff. Four hour classes that meet only 8 times - eek! It is somewhat unfortunate that classes are scheduled to begin the weekend of my birthday, but I am still excited to return to college. It's been so long since I've been -- it'll be nice to be in a learning environment again.

I finished my first bird a few nights ago - a Cardinal that hangs in Elena's room. Just like I promised I would do. It was acutally quite an easy pattern to follow and took about an hour to complete. I was sooo excited to get home after such a long day yesterday to find 4 skeins of Blue Sky Cotton from Lucinda waiting on my kitchen counter!!! I can't wait to start on some more birds. She had a poster on her blog the other day that read, "Be happy for this moment, this moment is your life," and I just loved it.

So often I get frustrated with all that I have to do -- all that is asked of me as a wife, mother, student, daughter, friend, etc and I want to throw my hands up and scream -- and then I read this green banner on her blog-- and I realized that if I take this to heart, and truly apply it everyday, perhaps I can learn how to be thankful for every moment. To be thankful that I have a child who frustrates me and screams and kicks and is alive and perfect and healthy. To be thankful that I have a husband who, even though he watches baseball all the time without end and tunes me out and leaves his dirty clothes on the floor, he truly is my partner. To be happy that I have a job, even if I don't love it as much as I once did. To be much more satisfied with all that I probably take for granted, and to try, as best I can, to remember that I really am very very lucky.

I feel blessed to have stumbled across so many amazing people through the interwebs and the blog world. To see the life of a child through Mandy's photos, to read of Simone's triumph, to be a part of Lucinda's grief - and the journey to help her heart to heal, to make hats with Susie, and to stay in touch with my cousin and her family. I'm thankful to all of you for being such an important part of my life - and of who I am becoming.

Hearts,

A

Birds of a Feather

I'm still working on my role in the Cooper's Flock project, and am somewhat spearheading the "Minnesota Chapter" of the project. I have a meeting with a representative from Fairview University Children's Hospital one week from Friday to iron out the details, and to make sure that we can work together to bring Cooper's Flock here to the Twin Cities. I have to meet with a couple of my local yarn shop owners to see if they can help and how. I'm thinking of organizing a "Knit In" if possible -- getting as many knitters together for x/hours to make x/birds. I think it'd be a fun way for those of us who only know each other via the blog community to finally meet, and it's for a great cause.

I'll post more info as it happens and if those of you who do read this blog know of anyone who knits, please forward them here to read about this project. The more people we get to help, the more birds we can make. And we truly need a FLOCK!!!

hearts,
A

Cooper's Flock

I stumbled across this blog today, and really, really wanted to be a part of this woman's project. It is a tribute to her little boy, Cooper, who died after only 21 days on this earth, and I'm truly touched by what she is doing to honor his memory. I'm especially touched because my grandmother Helen -- the only Grandmother that I ever knew --loved birds. It's been nearly 9 years since she passed and every time I see a cardinal, I know that she is with me still. And every time I think of her, a smile creeps across my face and my eyes fill with tears at the love I have for her, and the profound loss that still lingers in my heart. I can only imagine the burden of grief Lucinda will carry with her throughout the remainder of her journey on earth, but I know that these birds will help her through it. That they will help her to smile every time she sees a knit dangling from a Christmas tree, or hospital window, or yarn store counter. Because of these birds she will know that her little boy had a part in so many lives -- that she gave him the greatest legacy a mother can. Lucinda, if you happen upon this, please know that you've touched my heart, and inspired me more than I can express.

I will be making as many birds as I can and I plan to give all but one to Lucinda for her Cooper's Flock project. I'm going to keep a red bird for myself -- in honor of her dear sweet boy, and in loving memory of my grandmother Helen. "Cooper's Cardinal" will help me to remember my grandmother, and will be a constant reminder that a life - no matter how small - has the remarkable ability to change us all for the better.

I've sent an email to the blog author for the pattern, and will glady share it with all who ask. I wanted to post the info here as well so that those of you who knit can join in, too, if you wish.

Love to All