I D E A S   I N   C L O T H the Blog

Learning Curves

These early days, I’m on a steep learning curve, I’ve been gathering data quickly, often by taking photographs so I have a visual. I am learning what fruits Sammy likes, which songs he prefers from his favorite movies that I will inevitably memorize. I'm learning how to fill his lunch box, how not to drip water to drip in his eyes when I wash his hair, and that he may cry a bit when he wakes from a nap. He’s very ticklish and loves to snuggle in the fuzzy blue robe I bought at Woolworths when I got here. When we read together, he likes to turn the pages even before I have finished. Tonight I got him to turn them back for an extra minute. When we play 'Hide & Seek," he covers his eyes and co

Week One

Sometimes I think I can read minds, but my daughters can definitely read mine. My kiddos are waiting at King Shaka in Durban after I’ve pass through South African Customs and pick up my luggage. Ally holds the “Welcome Home, Savta” sign that she crafted the night before, the one I imagined them holding when I arrive. This is home with the true fullness of purpose I have worked hard for. Living in a place, in my own space for a full six months makes it especially real. Sam is napping in Ally's arms, and the three of them are soon in the giant hug I have dreamed about since I left in January. It's 5 and a half months since then, but all that matters is now. We decide to go to their flat dire

Getting to Durban

The trip is about forty hours long, split between three take-offs and landings. Savannah to JFK to Istanbul to Johannesburg to Durban. In Savannah at the Jet Blue counter, I bump into Roxanne Howard, (Rarely do you meet someone with the same name, let alone as nice as can be.) the check-in person, for the second time. She’s grown out her hair into dread locks, and has the same expansive smile. She does the same double-take as she did when my the name on my passport flashes onto her screen, then realizes she’s not going anywhere and It's just me again. My fourth trip to South Africa. I get a pass on my very-slightly overweight baggage and the first seat on the aisle with the extra legroom. We

Progress on SA Time

After a thorough search, with all we have learned during our stay, we make a decision. It’s April, and we are signing papers for our new flat, a 60 square meter, pied-à-terre in the center of Glenwood, Durban. There is so much going for this little place. Location and the third floor with an elevator, (although I promise to take the stairs whenever I can), forth-floor views of the park and the harbor through a wall of South-facing windows that I expect will yield partial sunrises and sunsets, newish kitchen, tiled to the ceiling with a built-in stovetop, oven and dishwasher, (some bachelor flats have hot plates and no oven) fresh bathroom, with a walk-in shower and washing machine that drain

Trigger Happy

In December of 2018, my husband and I make the day-and-a half trek to South Africa. We decide to spend six weeks this time, because our previous month-long stays, his two years earlier and mine a quick year behind already, were just not enough. What differentiates this visit is my, crystal clear knowing that I can’t accept the absence of family any longer. Our daughter encourages us, (didn’t take much for me) to get a sense of how it would feel to enjoy more extended visits and to explore spaces we could call our own. We meet an American couple, the parents of our daughter’s friend who have experienced the "move" and the South African Retiree Visa application process required for terms longe

Fork in the Road

Ever since my parents retired to Florida in the 1970's, I have been without a family base in close proximity. They sold our home in Queens, New York when I was about twenty. I had left school a year earlier and found an apartment in anticipation of their plans for me, not suiting my own. My younger sisters went to Florida more willingly, middle sis still nurtured by the parental connection; the youngest was only 12. Visits to Florida happened yearly in winter. But as we matured and made lives, sometimes years were the space between small windows of reunion. Friends become family, and amazing surrogates at that. When my kids go off to college, I don’t experience the proverbial ‘empty nest

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    Threads of Meaning, Meditative Stitching, Art Practice, Art Process, Color Theory, Individual Online Instruction, Online Workshop, Textile Art,  Contemporary Embroidery