Fear

Fear holds a lot of people back. Not only in life, but also in quilting. Fear of a new technique, fear of messing up, fear of being less than perfect, even fear of not being liked (the work, that is). I'm here to tell you to stop being afraid.

(I feel evangelical just typing that. Maybe I should be on a stage with a tiny microphone on my face and gesticulating calmly as I speak. You know, projecting a voice of inspired energy and turning you over to my side?)

This is a bee block. Just a simple wonky star with a twist was requested. I can get those directions, play around with the fabric given, and come up with something a bit different from the typical stars seen out there. For another person, those directions can simply stop them in their tracks. For one, saying wonky paralyses many. Must have a straight lines... And two, this begs for improvisation. Must have a pattern... Finally, what if the recipient doesn't like what I do?

For a long time I didn't understand these fears. In my case it was because I happen to like a challenge and actually sewing that way. But then people asked me to sew very precise things in their bees, with very specific instructions. Definitely not my go-to-choice for a project. But I'd made the commitment to the bee and my fellow participants. And I wasn't afraid so much as less than excited. But it's one block, what's the big deal?

But one block can be a big deal to a beginner, or to someone whose never made a triangle or not worked with a pattern. I don't want it to be a big deal though. I want people to look past those fears and relish the challenge. Why not try something new? Do you want to make log cabins or simple patchwork for the rest of your life?

Okay, maybe you do. Maybe you would be really happy churning out those quilts. And that's fine. But then stay away from on-line bees and expect other people to get bored with your work if you choose to share it with a very public audience. That's all good if you are happy doing what you are doing.

Looking for more, though? Feeling inspired by all you see on-line or at guild? Then it is time to set aside some fear. Here are some tips to get you moving past the fear:

- Join an on-line bee. This will force you to try new techniques and meet other quilters. Alternatively, join a round robin or guild bee.

- Play. You can just sew for the sake of sewing, it doesn't have to turn into anything.

- Don't blog about it. If you are worried about what people think, then don't share it.

- Blog about it. Push yourself to put it out there, flaws (perceived or real) and all.

- When in doubt about that one fabric, include it. If it still niggles at you once you've used it, then take it out. It is only fabric.

- Ask for help. Whether from an in-person friend or by posting on-line, seek input from others (like we did with the Workshop in Progress).

- Challenge yourself. Set up regular goals to try new techniques or colours.

- Stop reading blogs and books for a little while. It can be demoralizing for many to see so much inspiring work. That is, we think we can't be good enough or think it is beyond us. So take a little retreat for yourself and turn off the computer and stay away from the stack of books. Fondle your fabric and sew for yourself.

- Colour. Stuck when it comes to fabric? Then pull out the crayons, markers, or pencils and just colour. Even if it is just a colouring book, go for it. Give people blue skin, colour the trees purple, or make polka-dotted dogs.

Keep in mind that if you are stuck there is no need to make an entire quilt to move past the fear. Make one block, just play for a bit. This reduces the commitment and moves your forward one step, one block at a time.

What other tips do you have for facing the fear?

Friday Favourites - Channeling Baba

As I learn to embrace my domesticity I find myself clinging to objects that celebrate my Baba. She was the stereotypical Baba - tiny, barely spoke a word of English, a garden the envy of Martha Stewart, and she thought everyone was too skinny. All summer she gardened and put food up for winter. All winter she cross-stitched and cooked. I'll never live up to her gardening, but I can embrace her other domestics arts.

This was her apron, just a cheap, commercial thing probably purchased at the Nu-Way store in tiny Hafford, Saskatchewan. Maybe she made it from material from the store? It's machine stitched, though, so I doubt it. She added her own flare with the extra large cross-stitch. I have two of these and I wear one every day. I would probably wear it all day but it is quite likely that I would forget I had it on when I went to pick up The Monster at preschool.

And the measuring cups are a new addition to the kitchen, purchased by a dear friend to celebrate my recent domesticity. They are such a fun treat in the kitchen and using them does indeed make me think of my Baba. With three dolls in the Matryoshka set I like to think it is three generations cooking together.

Her Name, Big

Please ignore the odd shape of the M. Coming up on 4 weeks of more or less solid single parenting. I get the odd break with a babysitter or Hubby unpredictably arriving home, only to leave again a day or two later. But he's working the whole time he's here too. Needless to say, exhaustion and crankiness are evident.

That being said, it is all the more managed now that I am home with the girls instead of in an office. I had a particularly bad day last week and in between crying and fighting with Hubby on the phone he commented that quitting my job was supposed to make this better. So the wrong thing to say. But I was somehow lucid enough to calmly (or so I think) point out that at least this was only one day. Prior to quitting my job that would have been everyday.

And having the opportunity to quilt nearly everyday during naptime (whether I take it or not) goes a long way towards keeping my mental health in check. A long, long way.

This afternoon saw me finish the main part of one of the girls' quilt tops. Our oldest asked for a quilt with her name on it, all over. Like a good artist who takes every commission with a grain of salt I modified her request. I went for her name once, and made it big! This will cover nearly an entire twin mattress. All that is left is to sew the rest of the top to this.

Oh, and actually get the twin mattress and the bed it is supposed to go on. Pretty sure I'm winning the race.

Backseat Adventure - Halifax Seaport Market

Scaling the steps and the crowds of the Halifax Farmers' Market in the Alexander Keith's Brewery is where I turned into a farmers' market regular. The stone hallways, dark corridors, over-crowded landing spaces, the cacophony of vendors and buyers, and the refuge of steps where I ate my noodles at the end of the trip combined to make a comforting and chaotic shopping experience.

Every Saturday in University I would empty my forest green Eddie Bauer backpack, leftover from high school, and make my way from one end of the peninsula that is Halifax to the other. I could only fill that backpack, using student transportation - my feet - as I was. Except in the fall when a pumpkin was in order. On those days I would carry my pumpkin in front of me, a harbinger of pregnancy much later in life.

There was the Polish spot where I could get some garlic sausage and a pretty passable pyrohy. One man selling mushrooms from his dark barns. The 50 cent piece of maple fudge I got every week. My loaf of bread, always purchased last, even though it meant backtracking. (Walking the market was like walking in IKEA, minus the arrows on the floor.) And I always ended where I could buy brioche and apples. The eggiest of brioche and the most wonderful apples that 14 years after leaving Halifax I desperately miss.

It was with more than a little nostalgia that I planned a market visit on our recent trip to Nova Scotia. We were staying at the Westin, right across from the recently redeveloped Seaport area. I thought it was just the cruise ship terminal and Pier 21. The signs for the farmers' market thoroughly confused me.

Halifax Farmers' Market is the oldest market in North America. And these signs were proclaiming that. But it was for the Seaport market. What about the Brewery? A little digging turns out that the new market is the old market, just moved, but the Brewery Market is still open. Confused? I was, so I committed to checking out the new market.

The completely updated Pier 20, located right next to the cruise ship terminal, housing the Halifax Seaport Market is a green building. Solar panels, windmills, and a garden on the roof And a living wall inside plus geothermal heat make it a very green building. A large open space, divided into the main floor and a second floor loft make up one immense shopping area.

There is still the cacophony of sound, and the crowds were even more ridiculous than in the Brewery, but the energy was not lacking. Nor were the vendors. Four long rows of vendors selling seafood, meat, fruit, cheese, tea, crafts, coffee, wool, jam, bread, vegetables nearly to the rafters, and a unique Nova Scotia kindness as you walked by. Not a single fruit reseller to be seen, and a lot of dirty fingernails on the folks passing you your change.

I spoke to a few of the vendors about the move, the ones I can remember from 14 years ago or from more recent trips to Halifax. They said it was certainly an adjustment, but they were happy with the move. They were already seeing more sales at the new market because there were bigger crowds and accessibility was easier. Some maintained a presence at both markets - the Brewery Market is still open and now competing with the Seaport market, only blocks away. One vendor, though, confided that the new market was better and they were going to give up the old one.

It will take some time to settle into the new space. They need another ATM or two, better power hook-ups for vendors, and eventually they will be open more days of the week (only Saturday for now). Judging from the crowds, however, Halifax has already warmly welcomed the new space.

As for me, I was sad to miss my beloved russet apples (too early in the season). A few samples of wine and scotch from Nova Scotia made up for that. So did people watching from the second story loft while I munched on the best dolmades I've ever had and a fine baklava from competing Lebanese and Egyptian vendors. Then there was the delicate seaglass necklace I found and the aptly names Dragon's Breath blue cheese I carried home on the plane. I'll admit that did miss the mysterious corridors of the Brewery, but not enough to complain. And the new market was enough to make me renew my fantasies of moving back to Halifax.