It's Totally Okay. Honest

Looking back on my 2016 goals these days, I see that I failed miserably. 

And I'm totally okay with that. Surprisingly okay with that. 

I am a goal oriented person. I like to tick things off and say that I succeeded. Setting clear goals, as I did last year, gave me something very tangible to work towards. And work, I did. What I did not account for was all the other stuff I wanted or had to do. Nor did I account for new opportunities. So yes, if I look at my list I didn't have a successful year. But if I look at all the things off the list I have absolutely nothing but election results to complain about.

2016 Goals and The Results:

Professional:

1. Secure contract and write 4th quilting book - Nope. The reality of a family schedule and knowing what it takes for me to finish a book made this an impossibility. Honestly, I am a bit bummed about it, but that doesn't mean the idea is gone...
2. Finish and launch new website and blog - Done!! I'm so happy that I sat down and did the work on this. I hope you are too!
3. Teach at least one 3-day workshop - Actually, I taught a few. This was a goal because I find these immensely rewarding for the students. They get so much done and they get a lot of me. And I get inspiration in return.
4. Sell more local classes, potentially self hosted - Nope. I had some, but no more than usual. Again, that family schedule made it hard to plan this out. But it remains a 2017 priority. 

Personal:

1. Try climbing and Crossfit and maybe Muay Thai again - None of these things happened. But I tried ballet (which I love) and got back to skiing. I joined a gym in the fall and have been going fairly consistently. So, in my head, physical gains made regardless.
2. Leash train our dog, Roo - The damn black dog remains a challenge. He is getting better. And after many different leashes and harnesses we've settled on a system that works for us (very short leash for a walk then some off leash time). But he stills escapes and barks like the world is ended. Sigh.
3. Remember and celebrate friends' birthdays - At the beginning of the year I made a big birthday calendar. I can't say I wrote on every FB wall or at least sent a text on each birthday, but I was infinitely better than I'd been in the past. Still room for improvement.
4. Relearn bread making - I've been working hard at this one. I can do a yeasted bread fairly well. Sourdough? Not so much. It is a new skill for me and I haven't given up yet. The cold of winter seems like a good time to keep experimenting. At least the kitchen is warm.

Creative:

1. Learn to English Paper Piece - Yes! I played and figured it out. I'm rather excited to get going on my big project, hopefully later this winter.
2. Finish 10 quilts from the Quilts Under Construction List - Hmm, I just counted, and I finished 7 from that list. Not too bad, actually. A few moved around the list. And I finished 19 quilts in total last year so there is nothing to complain about there!
3. Keep a weekly writing date - Well, it wasn't every week, but creative writing did make a fairly regular appearance in my schedule. Enough so that I am expanding on that for this year.
4. Label all the quilts - Does it count if I made a lot of labels? I have a stack of them in a drawer in the sewing room ready to attach. But I did stay fairly on top of things as I went. Sort of. 

The good thing about a goals list is that it did keep me focused. If I found myself straying or struggling to focus the goals list gave me the direction. But I did find it restrictive a bit and totally ignored it. I ignored it because I had other work come up, because my family's needs were more than I anticipated, because other opportunities shone brighter. And all of those are good reasons and why I don't care that I didn't meet my goals. I don't have shareholders or a board of directors to answer to, only myself. Plus, if I look at what I did accomplish on top of this list, I'm pretty happy.

• Finished 19 quilts. There is a lot of secret sewing in there (soon, I promise!) and some things I still haven't blogged about.
• I played, explored, and committed to a Morning Make and my life is not the same. 
• My first fabric line comes out any day now.
• Published about 20 articles in magazines and blogs, not counting my own.
• Judged QuiltCon and lived to tell the tale.
• Travelled to Australia, Red, Deer, Ottawa, Montreal, Edmonton, and Leduc to teach. Oh boy, memorable trips, all of them! Bonus: a sunrise swim in the Pacific Ocean.
• Participated in the Mighty Lucky Quilt Club and The Splendid Sampler.
• Filmed The Quilt Show with Alex Anderson and Ricky Timms and brought my daughter along with me to make it extra special.
• Made it through the heavy family schedule of school and competitive sports with the kids without snapping. Possibly even thrived through it, I think. Bonus: watching my kids become fiercely competitive and proud of themselves.
• Finally figured out how to take out and put back my slider windows so I can wash them myself.
• Made new friends and built stronger relationships with the dear people in my community. 
• Committed to and planned out one of the 4 novel ideas I've sat on for a few years.
• Every week sent out a handle of queries to try to publish at least one of my children's picture book stories. A lot of rejection there, but I won't stop trying, refining, and writing more.
• Did not sit on the sidelines with my kids. With the exception of trampolines, I go out and do the things with them now. Bought a fancy brace for my knee and that has me back on skis. Not to mention hiking and biking more. Plus nightly frisbee in the park in the summer and bringing them into my Morning Make.

So yeah, 2016 was a pretty good year. It wasn't perfect, I was far from perfect. There were ugly moments, sleepless nights, arguments, and a stress too. A lot of it. But I do believe life is the sum of all our moments. You can add and subtract along the way, but as long as the overall equation results in a positive you are doing okay. 

This look back on the year has me rethinking my goal setting process for 2017. Some people do the Word of the Year thing too. There is also a more business minded approach that gets me thinking about mission and vision statements. I usually get that thinking done over the holidays but we did not have much downtime there. So look for more in my newsletter (are you subscribed?) and here. There is a lot to look forward to this year, again, election results aside.

The Power of a Quilt - Why Do You Quilt?

Originally sent to newsletter subscribers, but I've decided to share this here as well.

This is the story of a quilt. It is a quilt that is showing it's age - the binding is coming undone, there a few marks from who knows what, and the label can hardly be read anymore for the fading on the back. Sometimes it smells a little because it got damp, I didn't notice, and then it sat in the car for a few days before I washed it.  I started the quilt about a decade ago. The top was assembled in my first ever attended mini retreat. My memory is a bit off on this, but I think there were 6 of us gathering at my quilt mentor's house. I was the youngest by at least 20 years. But gather we did and in one afternoon we assembled a quilt top. Then we had a little raffle and I won the top! It took me a few years, but I added to it - one of the few quilts I've ever made with borders. And because it was one of the largest quilts I'd ever made at about 90'' square I sent it to a long armer, the mother of a girl I worked with. I remember obsessing about which panto to use, then learning that on a busy quilt it really doesn't matter. Then I likely obsessed about the right binding fabric. I was still a relative beginner and every decision seemed so big. In the past few years that quilt became our picnic quilt. We take it for after school relaxing while the kids run around. It comes to the beach as a respite from the sand. Basically, if the opportunity arises where we have to sit on the ground, this quilt comes.

So, of course I had it one day in the mountains last week. We were meeting up with friends who'd spent the week camping. The quilt laid by the shore of a pond while the big kids ran around exploring. One adorable 18 month old kept trying to pick the candies on it, mistaking polka dots for M&Ms. After our picnic it went back in the car. Adventures by the river, rock balancing, a potluck dinner all came next. The kids explored the woods and staked claim over secret hideouts. A fire was lit, marshmallows emerged. A tree was climbed. Then someone fell. She fell from the tree and the collective gasp of eight adults and twenty kids sucked all the breath from the forest for a minute or an hour. We parents jumped into gear, a flight attendant calling on her training, Dads calling on their instincts, Moms keeping the calm, kids trying not to freak out. At one point I recall someone asking for a blanket for the girl, or maybe I just thought she needed one because the sun was setting and she must be cold. I ran for my quilt, my old and stained picnic quilt. I covered her legs, one broken badly from the fall. With assessments done and a fear that the ambulance may never come despite one Dad racing down the road until he could get a cell signal, the call was made to move her, to take her to the ambulance. This girl was so strong, so brave in those moments. So we made a bed in her family truck, a king cab. The tent and pillows of one family, packed up for a departure before the rain, extended the comfort of the seat. Someone, maybe me? Placed the quilt over the seat. One small gesture of comfort for what was likely to be a harrowing ride. We moved her, calmed her and her parents, and they sped away. The rest of us reeling and picking up the pieces of the nearly shattered, remaining children. There were tears and confusion and fear. All I wanted to do was wrap them all up in a giant quilt and giggle and feel safe. That was to come, but not just yet. Only broken bones. Only. We cannot What If? for the days and days to come, even though it feels nearly impossible not to do so. Two days after the fall I got a text from the girl's Dad. He was almost apologetic for the battle scars the quilt now bore. There was blood. Just blood? Only evidence of a life lived, for the quilt, and a reminder of survival. The quilt helped move the girl from the truck to the ambulance, like they use sheets in the hospital. Then it helped keep her warm in a drafty hospital room. But the quilt's job was over now. Later that day I delivered a different quilt, one whose only purpose to that point was as part of my act telling stories in a trunk show. It deserves a better life, a life of true comfort. This, this is a story of why I quilt.

One Year

I can usually hear the footsteps the second the feet hit the ground. A tiny body sliding out of her giant bed, stepping around the dog sleeping on the floor, blankets and Tiger in hand. She sometimes opens the blinds, the creak of the roller a dead giveaway, just to make sure it's morning. Then she stomps down the hall. It sounds like stomping, even though she barely weighs 30 pounds. Her hand grasps the knob on the door to my room. A short turn and she peeks in. If she sees me awake she quickly pops in the room, slams the door behind her, props her crap on the bed, and climbs in.

She usually doesn't say a word. Not until she is settled and snuggled beside me. Her face is glowing with a morning smile and she practically purrs with delight. We lay like that for a what is probably only seconds. Then she pops her head up.

"Mama, can we bake today?"

*******

One year ago I marked my first day as a stay at home parent. My husband left for work, to return more or less almost 4 months later. I was thrust into the role of full-time parent with no regular paycheque. It was an initiation, almost hazing, that no college student would ever survive. 24 hours a day, alone, with my kids.

Being home with my kids was never a reality I imagined. I was going to either save the world or make a lot of money working hard. For a while I thought I could combine the two. Then these little creatures emerged, growing with me, and encouraging a sense of self I never knew was there. Our family changed and the needs of the whole outweighed my desire to save the world. Instead I needed to work on just saving us.

So, here I am. A year in. Much calmer now - most days - and still working on keeping us all sane. I've had to revise my own expectations about what can be achieved by the family and by me, in our time. I've also blown apart my own thoughts about the pleasure this would bring me and the peace it gives my husband. I still wonder what the hell I'm doing and I don't love it every day. But I like it. A lot.

In this past year I've developed a whole new relationship with the girls, worked to define this new thing with my husband, and searched for a balance to my own desires and goals. It's been HARD. And that's not counting the disappointments, struggles, grief, and disorder that the last year also brought.

And I wouldn't change a thing. As hard as this life is, it is better. Much, much better.

*******

Peach pie, lemon cupcakes, muffins, scones, cookies, bread... We're baking it all. Practically something new every day.

The Monster isn't as thrilled with being in the kitchen as she used to be. If there is the prospect of chocolate she will join us. Otherwise, The Evil Genius pulls up her bright orange chair, rifles through the cupboard for her apron, and says to me, "So, what should we bake today, Chef?"

With the Monster starting Kindergarten this morning I see even more baking in my future. That kid will have the best snacks in her heart covered backpack. Full of love and most likely chocolate.

Nectarine, White Chocolate and Cardamom Scones

(adapted from the basic English Cream Scone recipe in the original Five Roses Flour cookbook)

Makes 16-18 kid-size scones

1 nectarine, chopped into 1/2'' chunks

3 ounces white chocolate, roughly chopped

2 cups flour (you can mix whole wheat with regular, but don't go 100% whole wheat)

1 tbsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 tsp ground cardamom

1/4 cup cold butter

2 eggs

1/2 cup heavy cream

1 tbsp sugar

Preheat oven to 450 degrees F. Line a cookie sheet with parchment or a silicon mat.

Make sure your nectarine and white chocolate are chopped. Set aside.

Combine the flour, baking powder, salt, and cardamom in a large bowl. Cut the butter into the flour. Frankly, we use our hands. 3 years olds are very, very good at this. You could also use a pastry cutter. Stir in the nectarine and white chocolate

Reserve 1 tbsp of egg whites in a small bowl, then beat the eggs with the cream. Add to the dry ingredients and mix well. The dough will be wet and sticky. Drop by heaping spoonfuls onto your prepared baking sheet. Leave 1'' between scones.

Brush the tops with reserved egg white and sprinkle with the sugar. Bake for 10-13 minutes until lightly golden.

A Pie for Mikey

You start out with an idea, a concept of where you want to take it. A taste, a feel, a look. A finished product to be savoured and enjoyed. Something to share, to show off, to take pride in.

You gather the things to make it, and you bring them close. You handle them, you edit, you cut, you taste. Add heat, maybe some sizzle, and quite often a long simmer. At many times will you season, highlighting the flavours and subsequent adventure.

Usually it gets messy. You are either the type of person who cleans as they go or the kind that has a third hand following them washing and wiping as you move. It doesn't matter, as long as you address the mess at some point.

Eventually you sit to enjoy. It isn't necessarily what you expected it to be. Sometimes it doesn't work and you have to start over tomorrow. Quite often it's better. Much better than expected.

One day it explodes. The pleasure is insatiable. The joy immeasurable. On another day it is more subtle, simple. It is good, but not great. The pleasure and peace, however, is there. It's lingering and comforting. Perfect.

At least, this is how my marriage feels.

My husband is my best friend and an incredible man. Kind, generous, a little bit wicked. Committed, driven, and horribly sarcastic. He owns his own business and used to race mountain bikes. But I always thought I'd marry a professor or snooty intellectual. We'd live in an old house filled with books and no kids. Obviously that isn't what I've got.

My man in my life and our marriage came about like a farmers' market dinner. One day you find something that looks fantastic and you go with it. And so we have, experimenting along the way. Some days it explodes with pleasure and some days it is lingering and comforting. Perfect.

Imagining a life without my husband nearly stops my breath. Cold.

And now there is a colleague, a friend I met through blogging, who is living this fresh hell right now. Her husband, the father of her two little girls, suddenly collapsed and died last week. She is feeling the immeasurable pain of loss, the unimaginable.

This pie is for Mikey, for her, for their girls. This pie was his favourite and it deserves a celebration. As does he, as does the love he and Jennie shared. Their recipe gave the world this pie. Let's celebrate.

The food blogging community - including those who live close to Jennie and are lucky enough to share a drink and pizza with her - are gathering around her right now. This is community. Today we are making pie. People the world over are taking Jennie and Mike's pie and making it for their own loved ones. They are adapting the pie for themselves, making the recipe for their own loves. In doing so we celebrate a man, relationships, and the spirit of adventure in love, cooking, and life.

A pie for Mikey.