Betsy Phillips's Blog, page 3

Hanging on by a Thread

The Butcher lost his job.

What is there to say? I feel helpless and angry and afraid. The idea of this tiny family full of people I love not having health insurance in the middle of all this makes me want to vomit.

Before all this, they had found some old Nazi here in the U.S. and shipped him back to Germany and a friend of mine was mulling over whether it does any good at this late date to be prosecuting old men for things they did as young men.

And, in the time before, that seemed like a reasonable existential question. Something you might mull over. Can a person change? Is it justice if it comes at the end of a bad person’s life? Etc. Etc.

Now?

The feeling I have toward the people who are doing this to us has clarified things for me. I want them to never rest entirely easy, to always fear that, no matter how they try to make themselves safe, someday they may have to answer for what they’ve done.

And I will cheer loudly, every time they pull a 90 year old Nazi out of whatever life he’s been hiding in.

Because fuck those people.

Against All Odds, We’re the Big Door Prize

What is there to say? Republicans make choices that cost us our best people. Grandmas and cousins and the guy down the block who always said “Hey,” and John Fucking Prine.

The deaths in New York are a blood red thorn on the front of the New York Times.

And people are still claiming its nothing or that its almost over. Get back to work.

Other Things

I’m still here! I’ve just been doing other things. Like this:

[image error]

I love how this turned out so much. It’s called “Jazz Bird.”

I also dyed some fiber with highlighters.

[image error]

It spun up pretty cool.

[image error]

I tried to make some masks, but it basically just resulted in me getting hugely pissed at my sewing machine and ruining a lot of fabric.

The dog and I took long walks.

I keep trying to remember that the world is always ending and always beginning anew.

This Afghan

[image error]

Under normal circumstances, I would be pissed about the amount of applique I’m ending up doing. But in these times, it feels more like creative problem-solving than tedious sewing.

Starting Week Three

I spent time this weekend looking at friends’ faces. That boosted my spirits a lot and I need to remember that when things get rough.

The weather is gorgeous. I’m trying to decide if I should work on the porch this morning. I probably will.

My therapist wonders if this crisis is showing me that I would like some companionship. I laughed at that, because it would be just like me to decide now, during an apocalypse, is the time for love.

Accomplishing

[image error]

I finished this afghan. I haven’t washed or blocked it yet but I’m really pleased with how it turned out. I even ended up liking the big flowers, even though I thought at first they would annoy me.

The afghan I’m working on now is delightfully ridiculous. We had this design for our subject catalogs that I loved that we didn’t end up using and I decided I would try and see if I could make it into an afghan.

[image error]

So, I took the design (left) and cut it up into squares (right) and I dyed up a bunch of fiber and now I’m making it. I really love the contrast of the super modernist design with the rustic crochet and handspun yarn. It just makes me laugh.

[image error]

I went to the therapist yesterday. I thought i was feeling pretty good, but I cried almost immediately when I saw her. And just kept crying.

She said a lot of really helpful things. But a thing I’m dwelling on and trying to take to heart is that there’s a kind of connection I make with people that makes me unhappy, but I keep searching it out because it feels intense and thus real. And instead I need to put more time into cultivating relationships that make me happy, even if they don’t carry the same intensity of feeling.

She said it was like scratching at a scab. It feels good, but it keeps the wound from healing.

Damn.

I guess that’s why she’s the therapist.

Keeping Track

The Butcher is going to lose his job.

One of my dearest friends is going to have to give birth alone.

The person who first published my fiction has Covid-19 and it’s very likely she will die.

Fuck yes, I’m keeping a list. And fuck yes, I will burn with rage about it for the rest of my life. These evil dumb fucks did this to us. They wanted to hurt us as bad as they could and they did. And I will never forgive them.

Working Some More

[image error]

Last night I finished piecing this all together. Now I have to decide on a border. I really love this part, though, where all the squares are put together but they don’t yet belong to one another.

[image error]

Everything’s still trying to maintain its own shape and size and elbow its neighbors out of its way. It’ll be different after it’s washed. Everyone will lie together how they should. They’ll work more like one piece of fabric.

But things are still a bit unsettled at this stage.

Keeping On

I’ve been working on my afghan!

[image error]

This picture represents the moment when I realized the pattern had an error in it and was a square short. This is for Angela at the post office. She likes pastels and a “Monet” feel, but she also really likes turquoise.

In real life, turquoise has more green in it but, oh well, she’s getting blue.

I’ve also started dyeing for my next afghan. Did I already tell y’all about this?

View this post on Instagram

This is my next afghan. I need something hard and rewarding to work on and I think trying to make this will be it. It’s a piece from an off-line friend of mine.

A post shared by Betsy Phillips (@betsytphillips) on Mar 19, 2020 at 4:15pm PDT

It’s going to be so hard! I can’t wait. I want a challenge that’s difficult but where the stakes are low.

Step one was getting the base color right.

[image error]

The definition of nerve-wracking is having someone’s Pantone swatches to try to match a color when they’ve told you they paid almost a thousand dollars for them. I’M MESSY! Don’t give me valuable shit to borrow.

Lord.

But it worked out.

Going Out

Well, for the first time since Sunday, I have to go out. The dog needs to go to the vet (I got six long texts on the protocol for when I get there and I’m still not sure if I’m allowed in the building with him, but it’s fine. He likes them, so either way.) and I have to find toilet paper or a reasonable substitute.

So, I’m also trying to figure out what else I need to do while I’m out so that I can refrain from going out again for a while.

I found that Washington Post graphic with all the bouncy dots really useful for envisioning the best way to stay safe–basically, don’t be out where the dots are bouncing around.

But I’m still not entirely sure–other than just staying way far away from people–how to reduce my chances when I have to be out in the mix.

Should I be wearing a bandana like an old timey bank robber?