Michelle L. Rusk's Blog, page 42

The Sewing Connection

I have to admit that I take it for granted that I know how to sew. Sometimes I'll start spouting out things and Greg will look at me and ask, "What does that mean?" I don't know everything– believe me, there is a lot I don't know– but I was lucky that I was introduced to it from an early age.

I have a memory of being given a small electric sewing machine– it was white with a red base. But my memory is that it didn't work very well and soon it was opened up by someone (my dad, I'm sure) to try to figure out how to fix it. And then I had a plastic green one that worked. For a short time. Eventually Mom showed me how to use her mother's old black Singer with the wood base and that's what I did all my sewing on.

Mom sewed a lot when I was young and her mother did as well. As I got older and then my sister Denise learned to sew, we would make our Barbies clothes and I even made a version of the bucket bags I'm producing today.

Sewing came in and out of my life and after moving to Albuquerque, Mom gave me her Bernina machine and my friend Bonnie who lived across the street from me picked up teaching me to sew where Mom left off.

I made a dress while I was teaching high school and I still remember the other health teacher was gone that day and had a substitute. We had a guest speaker where both classes were combine and the woman asked, "Did you make that dress?"

I never wore it again because at that time, the late 1990s, it wasn't cool to make your clothes. I'm sure I cut the piece up and used it in a quilt instead.

Despite the fact that I moved many bins of fabric and supplies and back and forth across the country in my two moves, I wasn't sure if I would sew again. I wasn't sure what I would do with more quilts and obviously I didn't have a good experience creating clothes.

However, in the late spring of this year I realized I was tired of others deciding what my choices were. I had ideas and I didn't see them in the marketplace. So I set out to create my own items. I'm barely into that process now.

As I keep saying, there is much more to come. And that's because I finally realized I have something to share, something different from what I've shared before: my style.

 

What will you do with it?

I see many posts on Facebook and elsewhere about the pain people feel– and when I say pain I don't mean physical pain from an illness but the kind of mental anguish caused by other people. Sometimes it's because of a relationship ending or the frustration in a relationship. And other times it's the pain of watching a child who isn't treated fairly by other children.

But what I don't see often is what people do with that pain to cope with it, make them stronger.

I believe there is always a time for mourning when something frustrating happens. You must take a day or two to mull it over, to think about what you could have done differently (whether there was anything or not, we still need to do this), or simply to feel sad.

However, then it's time to move on. If someone hurt you, how are you going to make that experience help you become stronger? And if it's your child, how will will you help him or her find strength in the situation?

When I was in sixth grade, my friends from my neighborhood, the girls I went to elementary school with, decided they didn't want to be my friend anymore. Although the word "unfriend" didn't exist, it's exactly what happened. 

While it wasn't easy to shrug it off, somehow within me I knew it meant I needed to find new friends. I asked a girl who I lived near me if she wanted to get together in the summer and she became a friend until she moved away several years later. I started running that summer and joined the cross country team in the fall and found myself with a new group of girls. 

I didn't like that something had been taken away from me but it was an early lesson of loss and how to bounce back from what you can't change. They made it clear they didn't want to be friends with me anymore (although by high school we were friends on some level again but never as it had been in the past) and I had to move on. I made some great friends after that and spent a lot of time focused on what I wanted in the life I knew was ahead of me.

From that experience, I drew a lot of strength I didn't know I had and it was strength I would need as my life has been filled with loss since. I see many of the lessons I learned in those early years, especially junior high and high school, that I learned many of the skills I would need to be where I am today.

Nothing has to hold anyone back. You only stay back if you choose to be there. After all, there is always light from darkness.

 

Color in the Fall and Winter

I couldn't do it. I just couldn't switch to a dark color for the fall and winter months.

It started some years ago– probably the early 2000s– when I only bought a hand bag every few years. My first one was a yellow rubber Tommy Hilfiger bag I bought on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. And from there I found myself at Foley's at the end of each season, when seasonal items went to clearance, and I'd pick up a Nine West bag or another Tommy. One year I bought a blue and red Tommy nautical looking bag that my neighbor across the street commented on.

It was fall and I told her I was still going to use it even though it wasn't black. She agreed with me, however, the funny part is that the blue and red were very muted and now look like winter colors. 

Even so, I find I don't want to do winter colors in the winter. While the sun shines nearly every day here in New Mexico, I'm not giving in to the color choices just because someone says I should and that's what available in the stores.

Instead, I'll just make my own bag.

Hattie's Happiness

I was picking the last of my neighbor's prickly pears in their front yard– with their permission, of course– Sunday when they came outside to say hi. Our conversation inevitably always turns to the dogs and I made a comment that surprised even me– that Hattie's depression has gone away.

In seven months my ten-year-old dog has lost ten pounds, not able to keep all her food down, despite bloodwork and X-rays that don't show anything wrong. Her physical issues don't have any bearing not the sadness she has carried around for some time.. Her depression goes back further, to 2009, stemming from the loss of Daisy, our German Shepherd who was her best friend.

And four years ago, when I moved away, leaving her and Nestle behind while Chaco and Gidget went to Illinois with me, my former husband would tell me how depressed Hattie was. And each time I house sat for him while he traveled out of the country, when I left, it was the same story– Hattie's depression had returned.

Even when the three of us– and Mom– returned to Albuquerque after a year and a half, Hattie wasn't the same. She had a constant sad look in her eyes and she didn't run around like she used to. After all, this was a dog who could once jump a six-foot wall like a cat. 

Some of the weight loss was good, but I've noticed lately that something is different. She scampers around like she used. And she, well, she looks happy again.

Hattie has suffered loss like the rest of us– from moving from Hurricane Katrina ravages Mississippi to New Mexico to the death of her best friend Daisy, the coming and going through her life of my former husband and me, and then the death of my mom who was only with us for a year in Albuquerque.

But recently something changed and it's in the form of someone she waits for at the window until he returns home each afternoon and stay in bed with until he gets up each morning– only getting up to do her run-walk with me– and then returning to bed.

Greg.

It took her some time to realize that Greg was here to stay but once she did, the scampering returned. As did the spark in her eyes.

Finding Style Again

In high school I used to save my babysitting money for clothes- using layaway or waiting until I had enough to shop at stores like American Eagle and Benetton. However, by the time I went off to college, I lost my sense of style and settled into jeans. And more jeans. And sweats. My Catchit! t-shirt in the photo above became a pillow along with my screen printing from a junior high art class.

Around 2007, I started to wake up, bored with the way I looked and then in 2011 a visit to a friend who- like me- had been a skirt girl yet she was still a skirt girl- reminded me that I had lost something along the away. And so I returned to skirts and dresses.

And a sense of style.

I got bored wearing jeans all the time. While I work at home, I still venture out to the store or various places to run errands, but I like to dress nice because I feel better when I dress better. I'm not a make up, girl, nor do I spend much time on my hair but having a fun dress or skirt to wear is my focus.

Starting Michelle L. is a reflection of that. Many times I'm looking for something in particular and I can't find it (seem like certain items always stop appearing after I start looking for them). Or maybe I want something in a certain color. I finally realized this year that it was time to stop looking for these items and concentrate on making them myself.

After spending years looking online at ideas, now I'm taking those ideas and turning them into something– a way for me to share my style with others.

 

The Water Effect

I wrote a few weeks ago that I was still swimming in my pool and guess what? It's November and I'm still swimming (although today I'm guessing it will be yoga this afternoon because of looming storms). My pool guy (notice, there is a difference- Greg is the pool boy and Brett is the pool guy- the pool guy opens and closes the pool and comes to our rescue when the pump or heater aren't working; the pool boy keeps the pool clean) told me that he doesn't know anyone who keeps their pool open longer or uses it more than me. 

This isn't some sort of publicity ploy to promote my book, The Green Dress, because I didn't realize I was following in the footsteps of Sally and Audrey until several people laughed when I said I was still swimming and added, "Just like Sally!" 

While I run every morning and then run-walk my dogs, the swimming came from needing a second workout. I had been walking in the afternoons for several years but my feet began to bother me so I needed another activity. I have a pool so it made sense for me to swim. Every afternoon since early July I've been going out for a 20-minute swim. 

As the days have gotten cooler, I kept swimming, simply because I wasn't sure what else I would do. Yes, it's cold as I walk in on the steps. Yes, the first few laps I'm shivering.

But then something happens. As I settle into my pace with the dogs running around barking and the egg timer ticking away, I find not just peace in the pool. But inspiration. 

It's the perfect break from a day of work and a refreshing wakeup call (to say the least!) in the middle of the afternoon. Something about splashing around in the water makes me....happy. It gives me solace I don't get in most other places.

And that's why, even when the water is 60 degrees, it's been hard to give it up.

 

 

The Life Lessons in a Sports Loss

It wasn't supposed to happen that way. But it did.

Greg's girls soccer team wasn't supposed to lose in the first round of the state tournament. They had everything on their side: playing on their nice big home field, a team that was traveling from about as far away in New Mexico from Albuquerque that you could, good practices all week. And I brought the Pope Francis doll to the game with me. I realize he's just a doll but I seek hope wherever I can find it. And if it comes through a doll, it at least helps me.

The Storm dominated the game, constantly testing the other team's goalkeeper. But as the second half started, I began to get nervous. While I knew there was still 40 minutes to play, my half full glass began to drain. And as the time dwindled, I had a bad feeling. There was no way they could lose this game, I thought. Why can't they score one goal? Two for a cushion? It was the first round of state, they had a great path to the final. They just needed to win.

But in the sudden death overtime, suddenly the ball was constantly on the wrong end of the field. And the ball slipped into the Storm goal and it was over.

I was quickly taken back to my last prep track meet, a sectional that led to state, and the pain I felt after not qualifying for state. I cried all the way back to our school on the bus, but at some point during the ride, while I was disappointed, I was able to remind myself that this meant other doors would open. 

Yes, the pain was still there, but it's a pain that I have always used to help me not miss out on other opportunities. I can't change the losses and misses of my past but I continue to use them to assure myself that I don't feel that way in the future. They push me to work harder and they are a defining reason of why I have accomplished all that I have and continue to do.

If I could change the past, I would make sure that I didn't miss out on any past opportunities and that's why I wrote about his team recently and how hard it was to watch them play at times, knowing what they were capable of achieving.

A friend's daughter's cross country team missed qualifying for the state meet Saturday by one team. I'm not sure of the point spread but I always remember how someone has to lose, someone has to finish fourth at the Olympics- and not get on the medal stand, and someone always has to just miss out.

I told Greg that I hope the girls remember the pain of this loss to make sure it never happens again in their lives. The only consolation in this kind of loss is using it to go forward and making sure it never happens again.

 

 

Balancing the Past, Present, and Future

In the past two weeks, Facebook has been sending me quite a few reminders from posts, notably four and six years ago. While I realize that Facebook, as being something that is emotionless can't pick up on the what the events it's choosing to send me, the past isn't always a place I want to go. Yes, it happened, yes, it is part of my life, but I choose not to live there. Six years ago, my German Shepherd Daisy was sick with a lethal cancer at 5 1/2 years old. She died in early December that year despite a whirlwind of activity around her to save her life. Not a day goes by that I don't think of Daisy as I walk down my stairs and the painting of her greets me. She is the impetus for many things in my life, notably Gidget (who right now is barking at something, probably a cat). 

This morning a post came up about Hattie from four years ago. What I realized about it was that it was two days before I moved back to Illinois following a freshly finalized divorce. At the time my former husband was on Facebook and we chose not to announce our split until the night before I left. Seeing the photo of Hattie reminded me of the tough road that was ahead of me. 

My life is great today. It's not perfect and I choose not to write about much of the imperfection because, well, that's life. Nothing is every perfect but it's how we face it and react to it. I always have a long list of items I'm grateful for each day and today is no exception. There is much hope, especially as I am on a new venture with the Michelle L. endeavor. One I am hopeful about, but I'm not really sure where it will take me in the present moment– or it's more like I know where I want to go, I'm just not sure how to get there!

This week I found four pennies which was quite a few in a long time. I strongly believe my dad sends them, reminding me he is with me, and of strength for the journey. 

It's easy to get caught in the past– of what was and what we don't have anymore, or the future of what we want but we aren't there yet. Still, we need to remain rooted in the present, of where our feet are planted right in this moment. The more we do that, the less we feel any pain or sadness of what is gone and what hasn't happened yet.

 

The Challenge of Forgiveness

I would never say that forgiveness is easy. And it's also not what we think it is: just because we forgive doesn't mean we condone what someone has done or that we forget what they did. Instead, forgiveness is about letting something go so that we can move forward. After all, the reality is that the other person involved quite honestly doesn't care. That might sound harsh, but many times we have people in our lives who don't care about anyone except themselves. And that's why forgiveness shouldn't be about them so much as it's about us.

If I am angry because someone has hurt me, it keeps me in one place. I can't move forward; I can't do much of anything. And you've probably figured out that one important aspect to me is to keep my life moving forward. I have goals and dreams I want to accomplish. Anger keeps me from them.

While there are many roads to forgiving someone, one way is to pray for them. And if prayer isn't your thing, then send them positive energy. 

I know, it feels impossible, doesn't it? Why would you want to send positive energy, to hope for the best, to someone who has caused you such pain? Because it's about you. And you know what? You'll feel better.

Try it. It will feel uncomfortable, you might even stumble over putting the very thought together. But try it and see what happens.

Remember, forgiveness is about you.

Michelle L. Launches

Three years ago, a year after my divorce, we were redoing this very web site. And in that process, there was a quandary about what to about my name. At the time, I planned to continue to use Michelle Linn-Gust professionally as I had since 1999, however, I also wasn't sure what my future held. And I wasn't sure what I was going to do with the name Chellehead Works that I've used for my publishing business.

While I let this percolate in my mind as I filled out a questionnaire for person who was going to design my new logo, I remembered when I was known as Michelle L.

In kindergarten– and I believe into first grade– I was simply "Michelle" at school. However, by second grade two other Michelles had moved in (I have always heard the popularity of the name had something to do with the Beatles song released in 1965). So we had Michelle H., Michelle M., and me– Michelle L.  

By junior high there were even more Michelles and I had to use my last name, but for all of elementary school I was Michelle L. 

And much of what I'm doing with Michelle L.– right now it's about bucket bags but there is more to come– is reaching back into my life and remembering the creative person I always was and giving that creativity a chance to come out. The Michelle L. brand is reflective of that person and creating products that I in some way have wanted myself but could never find. The uniqueness is what makes them Michelle L. The surfboard in the logo is a symbol of the fun and happiness I find on the ocean which also reflects back into my designs.

Michelle L. is on Facebook. Like the page here to so you don't miss everything that's ahead.