More Family Fiber Artists and of Course, More Milo

I was perched in (on?) my favorite rocking chair (it was my paternal grandmothers), knitting a sock when I realized that I left out a very important family fiber artist -- my dad. I had my feet on a foot stool that was once a chair, an old chair, that my dad got at an antique store. He sawed off the top and wove this lovely bottom. Strictly self-taught, dad has done dozens of these and the chair I photographed Thomas playing in while at my parents a few weeks ago. I should really get dad to show me how to do these (again) and tell me (again) why he started doing them in the first place. It hurts his hands to do them now so they are a treasure to those of us who have them.



I love this picture of the boys and my dad does too. My parents waited a long time for grandchildren!



Milo is also appreciative of fibers for a very different reason. I have been re-arranging the kitchen and he explored the microwave cart cubby that used to hold his treats. He sleeps on the table, why not the place mats? Ginger is hoping Milo will find the treats and knock them to the floor as he has done in the past.



This is Ginger. We often call her a helper dog as she will follow you any where and help you with anything. I swear, I was using a miter box to cut molding and she put her paw on my hand and helped me saw -- swear!


Here she is helping me wind balls of yarn.

It is hard to take pictures with her around. So very helpful.



Had a child home sick today and when he was feeling better he decided to play with Milo some. A little action on the stairs...



...and...

wait for it.....

wait for it....

Ah, there he is --

...psycho kitty.

Family Threads

My Grandmother Rea lived into her 90's and I rarely remember a time when she wasn't making something. Never did she just sit without something in her hands; quilt square and needle, crochet hook and fine thread.

My aunt was the same way, so is my mother and so am I. My sister loves to bead but is not as obsessed with fiber as the rest of the women in our family.

This just in from my sister. "I LOVE fiber arts…in fact with Moms’ help, I made a beautiful quilt top a couple of summers ago… I just don’t have time to work on it…. xxxooo" I have a feeling that when she retires there are hundreds of projects waiting to get out of her too. She once made me a beautiful slip -- all by hand--with French seams and embroidery. Sorry I slighted you in this post, Seester.

Granny Rea's fiber arts were practical for her era and necessary for income as a widow with three small children. But, I know she enjoyed the creative process and making most anything. When I began knitting socks a few years ago my mother told me that Granny had a sock knitting machine. Every evening she would crank out a pair and add the heels and toes to them.

Ever thrifty, in her later years she used fabric samples from my uncles sales kit to make quilts. The Dresden plate square in this photo does not contain those samples but I have a very bright red and yellow quilt and an apron that do. She was also never far from a snuff tin (the lady was a contradiction). I proudly display one of them and a small oil can that was hers in the bedroom that houses the familial fiber arts.

During one visit, she pulled out a beautifully crocheted doily. When I told her I was going to have it framed, she pulled out a velvet skirt she had saved and another doily for my sister. She was in her late 80's or early 90's when she made this -- without a pattern! She would just begin. It was amazing to watch.


My mother is a very talented woman as well. She taught me to sew at an early age and loves to tell that at 4 I was using the sewing machine much to the horror of my father. I sometimes think that I should be a better seamstress than I am since I have been at it for so long. Anyway -- mom made all of our clothes. A trip to the Cloth Shop was almost a weekly event. We would peruse the patterns, touch all the fabric, select notions and couldn't wait to get started on the latest project. As I age, I have great admiration for mom's energy then. She worked full time, always had a hot dinner for us and almost always sewed in the evenings.


She didn't start quilting until she retired. I do believe that years worth of quilts had just been waiting to get out of her. She was veracious. I am still awed at her tiny, perfectly spaced stitches all made with such a small needle. I have tried, but do not share her love of hand-quilting! In recent years, the quilts have become smaller (she is in her 80's) and she prefers to do wall hangings. Pineapples are such a wonderful southern tradition and I love this small wall hanging.

I have tried almost all forms of needle arts. I crocheted a scarf in 7th grade (I still have it) and did this bag when in high school.

Until my figure changed to the point that without alterations patterns fit, I sewed most of my clothes. I learned to weave 20 years ago and was obsessed with that until my back gave out. I now machine quilt, knit and have started dyeing yarns again -- something I did for my weaving. I do believe that this fiber art gene runs in the family. My mother is proud that it continues. I doubt, however that I will ever be able to match her skill with a needle but am forever grateful for the lessons and encouragement she gave and still gives.

After years without a pet, Mom and dad are the proud parents of a kitten, Thomas. He does look wonderful showing off one of mom's lap quilts and a little less angelic checking out the contents of my purse.

(Caution: shameless promotion. I made the bag Thomas is checking out. See www.milosez.etsy.com for my original purses. This photo was not staged and Thomas received no monetary consideration for sticking his head in my purse when I had the camera in my hand.)

I visited them this past weekend. First time I've seen them and Thomas since Christmas. He was a small, somewhat smelly kitten at Christmas. We were all concerned for his health then but he has made a complete recovery and is very full of himself. Like his counterpart in our house, Milo, he is psycho...

...or asleep

Mom says she has not been able to knit since he joined them. I tried while I was there and finally had to put down my needles and untangle Thomas from the yarn.

It has taken a cat to get the women of our house to just sit, hands free.

Milo and company

Milo is our cat. Like most of his feline counterparts, he has a split personality.



















He can be completely psycho or he can be, well, asleep.



It took a while but I allowed my husband to talk me into getting another cat. My beloved Ruby cat was 18 when she died. (I don't have a picture in the right format to post.) I felt like I had lost a child and I harbored a bit of guilt about her last years. She was the product of my first marriage. She and Lucy the husky grew up together and loved each other. When I divorced, Lucy stayed with my ex and Ruby and I moved on. I decided to get another dog and found Sophie at the local shelter.





























Sophie loved Ruby and treated her older housemate with the respect she deserved. When her favorite playmate moved from the neighborhood, I decided to get another dog. Shortly after the decision was made, I was watching the noon news. A representative from the local animal shelter was on with two of the cutest, fluffiest puppies. When I heard they were Lhasa Apso mixes I called the shelter and was there before my "as seen on TV" dog arrived.




Ginger tortured poor Ruby from day one. She just wanted to play, but Ruby was having none of it. She spent the last few years of her life in her own "suite" (the three rooms in my home used for my studio.) Although her accommodations were nice, I feel guilty that she was so limited and didn't want to subject another cat to Ginger.





My new husband persisted and when a "free" (we all know -- there ain't no such thing as a free cat) cat was listed on his work bulletin board he sent me the picture and talked me in to going to visit this cat with the M on his forehead. Well, you know how that ended.

Milo, from the beginning, took no guff from the dogs and was, as all good cats are, in charge. I have no regrets and we all, well maybe except Ginger, love him.

So, that is the story of how Milo came to live with us. I take far too many pictures of him playing, sleeping and being squeezed by the boys.




He has also inspired the name for a line of quilted bags a friend and I are making -- MiloSez. This is the label we are using.




And here is one of the bags:



I don't find enough time to make many but MiloSez he enjoys having is face out in the world.

He is currently enjoying a siesta on his favorite chair on our front porch. I think I'll join him.