Ever since I was young and saw my grandparents watching Lawrence Welk and listened to my Mother’s Herb Alpert records, I have wondered when I would “grow up enough” to listen to their music. I think that the Tijuana Brass is pretty cool stuff, but I still like NIN, Jack White and Pearl Jam way too much to settle into the music of “my age.” What is that anyway? Does being close to fifty mean that I have to start conforming to preconceived notions of that age? Am I just oh-so immature for never having enough black in my wardrobe (at least until they come up with a darker colour!)? I raised 4 fabulous kids and think that my husband is the best thing that ever happened to me (but don’t tell him). I wore my share of floral jumpers and drove the requisite mini van. I felt the pull to pastel colours and perfect points but was drawn also to the renegade dangling threads. Now I share a cross generational love of vampires with one daughter and a rediscovery of the saints with the other.My boys would rather not know what I am up to right now (ah, but some day, maybe…). Chaos guides me to infinite possibilities! I accept the inner battle of Chiaro & Scuro and look forward to what I will stumble into next.
from the author's blog at stitchtress.wordpress.com