Light and fading light

Progress is being made on Sarah's light themed tallit.

Like every other big task, creating this tallit is made up of lots of small tasks. For each text strip/stripe I need to cut the silk and edge it so it won't ravel away. Each strip is embellished in some way either before

or after I paint on the lettering.

The ribbon borders for the stripes are assembled and embroidered.

When I first started sewing I found metallic thread to be a bear to sew. Metallic thread tended to break or crack while I attempted to use it with my machine. I used to use a special metallic thread needle and use silicone drops on the thread to lessen breakage and cursing. I don't know if I have learned to intuit all of the intangibles that make sewing with metallic thread less of a bear, like machine speed and thread tension or if the sewing gods have simply decided that I have put in enough time at the task and have given me a pass. Most of the time I can get through long periods of time with all of the various metallic threads playing nicely.

I loved using this stencil that arrived a couple of days ago. Now I have to decide if I will paint the text on top of the stencilled design or just leave this as a decorative stripe.

Autumn is creeping in.

Now, another moment to talk about objects that become imbued with meaning.

We had been using this bottle

to hold olive oil in the little cabin we rented this summer. The bottle is now empty and I washed it out. My husband suggested that we can recycle it. My husband then asked if this bottle of whiskey was a gift from our late friend Fred. It was. So we will find a use for the bottle and remember our friend Fred each time we use it.

Soon after my friend Shawna shared her terrible diagnosis with us I made her a batch of the chicken soup that she has eaten at my Seder table for years. It is a soup that takes several days to make and strain. I knew that I couldn't make Shawna better but I could fill her body with the love and care and my hopes for her recovery. A couple of weeks later Shawna's dear husband dripped off a batch of goodies for us including chocolates in this tin.

The chocolates are long gone. Shawna died a year ago.

This summer I stored coffee for the cabin in this tin. I found myself saying hello to Shawna every time I picked the tin up to start my day.

There are more tasks to be done on the tallit as as soon as I am done typing-- it is back to work for me.

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מְחַיֵּה הַמֵּתִים

וְנֶאֱמָן אַתָּה לְהַחֲיוֹת מֵתִים: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה מְחַיֵּה הַמֵּתִים You are faithful to restore the dead to life. Blessed are You, Adonoy, Resurrector of the dead. That particular line is recited at every single prayer service every day three times a day, unless you use a Reform or Reconstructionist prayer book . In those liturgies instead of praising God for resurrecting the dead God is praised for giving life to all. I am enough of a modern woman, a modern thinker, to not actually believe in the actual resurrection of the dead. I don't actually expect all of the residents of the Workmen's Circle section of Mount Hebron cemetery in Queens to get up and get back to work at their sewing machines. I don't expect the young children buried here or the babies buried here to one day get up and frolic. Yet, every single time I get up to lead services I say those words about the reanimating of the dead with every fiber of my being. Yesterday, I e...

Connecting with the past

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Food friday - your grandmother's food processor

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sarah in nyc

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