HELLOmynameisHeather

10 Facts & 10 Yards of FREE Fabric

For the entire month of April 2015, Free Spirit, the company that publishes my fabric collections, is featuring me on their blog. Currently there is a post up with 10 Facts about Heather Bailey you probably don't know: secret ambitions, my childhood nickname, etc. And Free Spirit is having a significant giveaway in association with that post. The winner will receive 10 yards of fabric from my latest collection, Clementine.

To enter the giveaway, share what you have in common with me in the comments of their post. A winner will be chosen on April 17th, so hurry on over—after saying hello here of course. 

Knit Bits

I taught myself to knit 20 years ago. My freshman year in college, my mom gave me some supplies for Christmas, but she never got around to showing me the basics over Christmas break. She offered to teach me once I returned home again for the summer—but I was too impatient. I would have to teach myself. My first project was a fisherman's knit sweater—because that's my kind of crazy—always start with the hardest project.

Isaac and I dated long distance for my first couple of years of college, so we spent a lot of time on the phone—often for hours at a time. I got a lot of knitting done during those long calls.

Come to think of it, I made two fisherman knit sweaters that semester—it was A LOT of time spent on the phone—Isaac was quite the talker back then. I was happy to listen and knit, occasionally chiming in with an "uh-uh...yep...sure...of course...then what?..." A $40 Radio Shack headset phone saved my aching neck. I loved that phone.

That was back when I still planned to become a surgeon. Knitting and doll-making were my stress-relief from a demanding school schedule.

By the time I switched my major to Apparel Design, knitting was my side-kick. I brought my knitting to class, to the cafeteria, to church—everywhere I went.

Later, when I designed a full-on clothing collection for competition in the university's annual fashion show, my collection was the only one to include a variety of knitted garments. In fact, I suspect that my men's intarsia sweaters were pivotal to my First Place win in my first fashion show. It was early in my second year of the program, and I was competiting against designers with twice as much schooling and experience.

Living in sunny Arizona, I don't knit quite as frequently as I did when we lived where it snows. But, it is still one of my all-time-favorite pastimes. When I get the itch to knit, it doesn't matter if I have a project figured out—or even the right needles (as evidenced by my rubber-band-modified double-pointed needles above)—I set to it.

This time, I tried my hand at the trendy, new ruffle yarns and made a scarf for my sister-in-law, Laura. She's in DC, where it's a bit colder. And she's my style-sister. If I can't wear it—because it's just not cold enough here—then I can enjoy the finished knitting through her.

I did finally grab some shorty little light-weight bamboo needles to finish the job—so I could knit on a plane without bothering my neighbors—and avoid getting patted down by airport security.

I dont' know how many of you knit, but have you ever tried working with ruffle yarn?

My take: It was fun to knit with, but a little slow. You knit each chain/eyelet that runs along one edge of the yarn (see top photo), and it's a bit of work to keep the yarn untwisted. Then there is the matter of burying the yarn ends. There was no straight-forward solution for this, so I put it off of course. I finally resolved to crochet the ends into the work so they would be undetectable—which worked perfectly.

I finished up last night, in time to ship this one off for Valentine's Day. Sorry for the spoiler, Laura. I'm sending chocolate too.

If you're a knitter, here are the details: I cast 15 stitches onto size US 4 (3.5mm) needles. Knitting every row, I used 2 full balls of Flaunt™ yarn by Loops & Threads™ (Michael's) for a mid-length scarf. This yarn comes in several variegated options, as well as in solids.

Next up, I'm making a twinner scarf for me—in teal.

Sixteen?

I was that girl who carried a doll baby with her everywhere she went. And not by the hair or the hem of her skirt, but gently, sweetly wrapped in a blanket, safe and warm.

One of the earliest photos of me, as a toddler, shows me clutching my Raggedy Ann doll. My eyes are teared up and I'm miserable because my mom tried to take Raggedy away for the photo. She finally relented and gave her back. The teary-eyed portrait is the best image they got that day, capturing much more than my child's face, but a glimpse of my spirit as well.

These are the same heart-strings that are being plucked today. My first real baby, my son Elijah turned 16 yesterday. He's 6'3" and growing. Tall and slender, with a deep voice and sprouting stubble, he is hardly recognizeable in form from the soft, cheeky baby you see here. But, like me, he is the same person underneath. Just like he was as a baby, he is kind-hearted, cuddly, intelligent beyond belief, and so, so good to his mom.

In those early years, Elijah was my daily companion and at times my only friend. The silver lining to a very hard period of my life is the closeness we developed as mother and son. I have such a mushy, saggy soft spot for him in the middle of my chest. It gets deeper and squooshier as the years pass. And it hurts sometimes. How is it that my little angel-faced baby is now housed in the framework of a man? It's a puzzle that has confounded mothers for centuries. I'm not the first.

The hope is that I'll know Elijah much longer as a man than I knew him as a boy. With this math on my side, perhaps the puzzle will resolve itself. Or maybe this is why we have memory loss in our old age—to ease the pains of distant memories.

Today, my heart hurts. I know things are no different from yesterday. And I have nothing but gratitude for this forward-rolling life we've been given. I hang my heart on Elijah's daily hugs, his love for family activities, his lack of embarrassment over his old mom, and his wish to live near us as an adult. Unlike so many teenagers, he's in no hurry to leave us behind. This gives me clearance to teach him to fly, as I know he'll return safely and willingly—if more infrequently as the years pass. My eyes might be a bit redder for the experience, but success as a mom is a happy, healthy, functional child—who also still likes you somehow in the end.

He is a good, good kid. I am grateful to be his mom.

In 2012...

I’m sitting at my desk amidst a whirl of pine-needle debris and glitter. The celebration and indulgence of Christmas is being swept up to make way for the new year: tightened belts, tightened routines, tightened to do lists, loosened possibilities.

In 2012...

** I became a runner. I never believed it was possible. I did not succeed at age 14, I didn’t succeed at age 17, at age 24, at age 27. I tried many different times in my life. At age 36, two months after having a baby, I started running—very slowly, very carefully. It was a process. But, within a few months, I was running 5 to 6 miles per go. I am still baffled and amazed. Thank you, Couch to 5K, for holding me back. It turns out I was always doing too much too soon.

** I also learned that “running” means “jogging.” I was several weeks into the journey before I had this epiphany. If you run-for-your-life when the voice in the app says, “run,” you are not getting the idea—duh, Heather.

** I had the thrill of getting to know my new little son. His unique personality revealed itself, as he hugged us and whacked us—alternating between the “Thank You” game and the “Uh-Oh” game—his two favorite phrases. What a sass-a-frass, lover-bub trouble-monkey.

** I took my kids to the Bahamas. They swam in blue waters and sat in the sand. Our first fancy vacation ever. Usually, we go camping.

** My work filled the shelves at Target. In the form of planners and calendars—there are new ones there right now. The best is when my personal friends stumble across them, having no idea I did this project. Serious double-take. “Wait, I know her.”

** I designed a new cotton quilting collection. It was all-consuming work, as usual.

** Then, I started on the next one.

** We remodeled and expanded our home work space.

** We moved our office/store so our little one could have a more homey start at life. It was a tight squeeze. But good and right.

** My mom started writing a column for the local paper.

** We gave our old van another chance at life—as our oldest child turns 16 this month and we don’t believe in giving a new driver something fancy to truck around in. $$$ in repairs later—more than the vehicle is worth, frankly—it still looks like a sad, speckled monster, but it works. The PERFECT first car.

** I took my daughter to dance class.

** I cheered for my teenager at band competitions.

** He grew to be two inches taller than his dad—so far.

** I hemmed a lot of pants for my growing children.

** I cried over difficult relationships.

** I prayed for my sister who is fervently wishing for a baby. I prayed for my brothers and my parents too.

** I thinned out my closet. Then, I filled it back up.

** I drank too much soda.

** I planted flowers.

** I filmed a tv episode with Sew It All for PBS.

** I didn’t blog all that much. I caught up on design projects after a brain-fuzzing pregnancy instead. And soaked up my sweet little kids who are growing older all-too-quickly.

** I designed aprons, kitchen towels, sewing patterns, embroidery patterns, fabrics, planners, calendars, a Project Life kit, a Shutterfly album and still more fabrics—all coming out in 2013.

** I found an awesome couch to reupholster for my family room. (I can’t wait!)

** I got older.

** I got muscles.

** I got boots. Several pairs.

** I took time off for the holidays.

** I baked a lot of cookies.

** I got tired of taking time off. And eating cookies.

Now it's time to get back to it. Bring it on, 2013.

Are You Kidding? Of Course I Want a Sticker!

Eight years ago, on election day, I was six-months pregnant with Charlotte. I remember that day very well. I waited in line to vote for about 5 hours—on my feet. I got so dehydrated that I began to shake and cramp when I was about five people from the front of the line. I stuck it out the extra 10 minutes, voted, then headed to the emergency room once I discovered I was bleeding a little as well. I was in miserable shape. It was NOT a fun day.

Now, I always pack water, food, and a folding chair—just in case. Today there was no line though. Somehow, I hit the timing just right. I missed the enormous lines from this morning and beat the rush hour lines sure to come later on. It was a 10-minute excursion.

Tonight, we are heading to my brother's house to watch the results. Of course, it may take weeks to resolve now that the parties have discovered they can ring the voter-fraud alarm and buy more time. Ug.

How to focus then for the rest of my day? We have a big magazine shoot at the studio today and I have a print from my new quilting collection that needs an adjustment to its repeat as well. And then there are the other 88 to-dos on the list. Oh my.

BUT—the most important to-do on my list today is done—I voted.

You should too. Bring water.

Update: You must see this Election 2012 Bad Lip-Reading video above — too stinking funny. "It's like the whole world's a surfer dude and they're all chewing pencils."

Beautiful-Busy

On my way to the studio today, I stopped by the gas station for a soda.  When I returned to my car, Every Rose has its Thorn by Poison belted out of the radio.  In a psychedelic whirl, I was transported to my cabin bunk at summer camp, my woolly socks tucked deeply inside my inadequate sleeping bag.  I was thirteen again, and listening to this song on my walkman, missing my boyfriend (who, though he carried my books to class for me and held my hand on occasion, was really my best friend -- you can breath, Mom).  That was our song! 

I love how music can transport you.  And scents can do that too.  If you had asked me yesterday, I couldn't have told you what 'our song' was.  It was the first song we danced to, but I wouldn't have recalled the name.

I got a little choked up, I admit it.

Isn't life a blur?  A fast, fabulous, when-will-I-ever-get-enough-sleep-again blur? Nothing slows down the clock but boredom; ask any fourth-grader at the end of a long summer.  It's been a long time since I've enjoyed the misery of boredom. 

Regardless of the whirlwind, I'd rather be 70 in a fleeting week, than perpetually bored.  Life is a beautiful-busy.