reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Monthly Archives: January 2024


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my lampshade. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

“when she stopped conforming to the conventional picture of femininity she finally began to enjoy being a woman.” (betty friedan – national organization for women co-founder)

ripped jeans and boots are – most often – my dress of choice. i add a black thermal shirt or a long (black) tunic and feel like me. it’s my dopamine dressing, regardless of the colors, textures, ensembles on the dopamine charts.

my studio is not large. it’s one of the bedrooms on the main floor – in the front of the house. there are three double-hung windows – two of which face south – so nice light. there’s a chiffarobe holding a big old black-framed window, pictures of my parents displayed. there’s tin on the wall with photos of my children. there’s a painting by david and two framed collages with my first two albums. there’s a photo of me as a little girl, a rocking chair, music stands and mic stands. and there’s my piano. it’s a 6’5″ yamaha grand so it’s a presence. 

and now – over in the corner opposite my bench – hangs this lampshade. i suppose it could be used as an actual on-a-lamp lampshade, but ever since i saw fabric-repurposed lampshades hanging in that iowa farmhouse we stayed at, i have been intrigued by the simple hanging of a lampshade. and so, a couple days after the new year, while out antiquing, we came upon this shade. it was hanging in the middle of a vendor’s booth, with no price tag. it wasn’t for sale. but – like the chunk of concrete – this spoke to me. 

its femininity was appealing. torn strips of silk and organdy, a feathered hairclip, i was smitten by it. i could imagine it in my studio – softening the straight lines of plaster walls and crown molding. it felt – forgive me for this generalization – girly. in every good way.

i asked at the front checkout about it and the sales associate and i took a walk back to it. she double-checked, looking for a tag. it looked like it was there to dress up the booth. and, indeed, it did. it was charming.

we left without it, but the associate said she would contact the vendor and let me know the lampshade’s status: available/notforsale. my concern was that even if were available – or if the vendor made it available based upon my desire for it – the demand-cost equation might enter in and it would be out of my range (which, frankly, most things are). 

the next day i got a text. $15. i re-read the text. $15. i wrote back, double-checking. surely it wouldn’t be only $15 for me to bring home this piece of softness – this very cool boho shade that reminded me of all the layers of who i am.

i wore – as usual – my ripped jeans and boots, a vest over my black thermal shirt. we walked in and the lampshade – the lampshade waiting for me – was on the counter. 

there was a group of women standing near the checkout counter, all talking at once. they glanced over at the lampshade, admiring it, asking me what i was going to do with it. we all laughed together, visiting and having those amazing moments you can sometimes have with a group of women (or people, but in this case it was women) who don’t know each other at all but who all-of-a-sudden have a common interest. the lampshade. 

this is a good time in my life for this, for the ripped ribbons of silk and shreds of organdy that flow gently from its structure, for the skeleton of a for-a-lamp shade to have new out-of-the-box purpose, for a reminder of femininity and of who i am.

on the way out, carrying my lampshade as i passed by one of the older women standing nearby, she turned to me and said, “it looks like you.”

i can’t think of a nicer compliment.

*****

A SHRED OF HOPE ©️ 2020 kerri sherwood – on an iphone and a piano that needs to be tuned….

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it’s all situational. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

we’ve seen photographs of other places – not all that far from our house. even 10, 20, 30 miles or so – maybe less – makes a difference. instead of a bit of snow and a lot of ice like we have, there are inches of snow. lake michigan and that ole windy jet stream has been wreaking havoc for every meteorologist around trying to accurately predict what to expect. it’s all situational.

this past saturday was a fun day (notice my pained smirk here). with ladders and buckets and decanters and water boiling on the stove and blow dryers we dealt with the ice damming issues that come with these sudden bursts of arctic air – the negatives. it is never good to open the back door and be dripped upon before exiting the sunroom and going outside. so, we took all our ice-damming know-how and experience and applied it, once again, to our gutters and roofline – particularly near the obstinate newer gutter outside the back door. going back to maybe 2002 or even a bit earlier, i remember clearly being on the ladder out there with a long hose extending to the basement laundry tub, attempting to melt the overlayer of ice to allow the gutter to flow. so it is clearly a tradition at our house and not an unexpected sight; our eastneighbors never even said a word as they passed by. one never knows when this is going to happen and some years are luckier than others. the conditions are specific and, even with heating cables tucked into the gutters, there are unlucky days here and there. it’s all situational.

and so, we have a polka-dotted patio – with slushy-ice making little circles – making us think of the ice circles that form in lake michigan under certain circumstances. a bit of snow has now accumulated on the grass out back and the birds who remain here to winter are occupying the ornamental grasses – eating seeds that remain there, alternating between the grasses and the birdfeeder. i wonder about a way to warm the water in the birdbath so that there is some fresh water for them to drink. they seem happy, flitting about, despite the freezing cold and wind.

it will be another hearty dinner night. something warming, soup or chili. this cold snap is going to last a few more days. i suppose we could go out hiking in snow-covered woods, but the treadmill and the bike call our names from the basement and we wuss out. we plan on adding to our little gym down there – maybe a few mats for stretching exercises as well. there are certainly circumstances during which we’d rather be in our none-too-fancy-but-climate-controlled basement than outside in the frigid air. it’s all situational.

and even though we glance at the temperatures in other corners of the world – and people taunt us with screenshots of weather with 75° and that silly sun icon – we are glad to be here. managing the challenges of the cold weather, soaking up the comfort of a warm home, watching the seasons as they seemingly fly by. it is all situational and we remember to be grateful for this – our situation.

*****

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so many things. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

i am diving into the worlds of facebook marketplace, ebay, poshmark, craig’s list. we are spending long days in the basement – going through, organizing, separating out that which is to be kept, that which is to be sold, so much of which is to be donated. thirty-five years – in the same house – is a long time to accumulate things and there are many boxes and giant plastic bins to open…and…this is not our first rodeo down there. it’s been nasty weather and it’s negative-whatever outside so this a perfect time for this. i know that any stopping of the momentum will – yes – stop the momentum. so we don’t stop.

on a shelf unit with many books of many colors, i came upon a collection of volumes – all ten of them, making a complete set. they are the 1908/1909/1910 copyrighted gold-leaf-gilt-edged editions of “the bible and its story – taught by picture lessons”. there are beautiful penned illustrations throughout, published by ira hiller (ny). it is a significant collection. but not one that i want to keep. i don’t remember the backstory – where or who these came from. and i know that, though i have not once opened them to read, there is someone ‘out there’ who would want to add this to their personal collection. and so, i will sell it. with the exception of a little water damage on volume 6’s back cover, it’s in quite excellent condition. research will help me set a price – i’ll not ask for top dollar, though, for i want to move this out and into someone else’s hands for their own home library. 

it’s an interesting predicament – setting prices. even with research, it all seems somewhat arbitrary. a thing is only – truly – worth what someone else will pay for it, i am reminded. and so, i keep that in mind as i hold things in my hand, maybe photograph them for memory-sake and place them on the dining room table for an ad photo shoot, the writing of a description, pricing and uploading. i wonder what value someone else will have for these things – so many things – that were mine but that need to move on. 

for value is a funny thing. for some, it is in the name of the maker, the label tucked in the collar, the brand on the purse or the jacket or the furniture piece or the vehicle. for some, it is the gilded antique, the collectible, the museum piece. for some, it is the barbie doll or the hummels or the annual dated ornament. for some, it is the scrap of paper found in an old purse with toddler-print that says “i love you”. for some, it is the yoyo quilt your grandmother made; the one in which you recognize the fabric of clothes you once wore. in amish tradition, “an object cared for in a home can turn into a shining thing.” (sue bender) 

the things i or we choose to keep may not be the festooned bric-a-bracs of someone else’s sensibility. they may be much simpler, more thready and less dollar-attached. they have old narrative worn into their object-souls and – even now, decades later maybe – they can still elicit an array of emotions. the relationships, the art form, life’s riverdance all woven into the things we may choose to keep.

we keep unearthing, unboxing, moving items from one spot to another. “life’s all about moving your patches around,” and i believe this to be true. it’s all fluid. we will keep working until we finish the first pass through of the stuff-of-life and then – and only then – will we be able to start the second pass through.

“simplify and then go deeper, making a commitment to what remains.”

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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salvage doublebows. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

even upside-down i recognized it. a chunk of concrete – architectural salvage – signed and dated 1978 – it sat there, with an assortment of other stuff outside the antique shoppe – and called my name.

my sweet momma wanted to be an architect. she was way before her time, though. born in 1921, she loved applying her love of mathematics, but the world – i guess – wasn’t ready for her. i, too, love math. and i love design, though i haven’t had any formal training in it. but when a chunk of concrete – or any other item – calls my name, i stop and listen – at least for a moment. there is a conversation to be had.

because it was upside-down and weighs a ton, i asked d to turn it over. i made an instant decision…one, unlike most other purchases, that would have no second-guessing, no post-purchase regret. i wasn’t sure yet what we’d do with this concrete, but it was coming home with us (after some new-york-style price-negotiating). 

it’s in our living room now, in case you are wondering. it serves as a side table to a chair and is the right place for our ipod sounddock. it’s perfect. 

i was trying to explain – at the antique shoppe – to a couple people there how i try never to buy things to be used for what they are designed for. it’s my own rule of repurposing. it’s also pretty scrappy. now, now, that doesn’t mean a pillow isn’t used as a pillow or a chair as a chair, but old vintage coffee pots are our tea canisters and suitcases are our special boxes. tin displays photos with magnets. a door is a table. you get it. 

for years, i rented offices at an historic building on the lakefront. a fantastic old building with high ceilings and wood floors, only cold running water on my floor, big old windows facing the lake. when they were doing some reno work on the building, there were piles by the big dumpsters: vintage window frames, rectangles of radiator grates, old signs. it was a salvage dream. i miss those offices, but as i look around our home, the old window frames are comforting and remind me of days spent chasing concerts, wholesale accounts and mice. 

the farm table in our sitting room holds a beloved heart leaf philodendron from my daughter. the old repainted chiffarobe in my studio holds photographs of my parents. ”sisu” is painted on a piece of old wood, created by my son. there are two old rocking chairs in david’s studio: mine and his…both full of stories of long ago.

so the chunk of concrete didn’t really surprise him. i thought for sure – as we pulled in – that he noticed it too. but he hadn’t. so i pulled him over to it, certain he, too, would love it. and he did. most of the time it doesn’t take much to amuse us. 

we stood at the doorway from the hall to the living room, admiring our find. we – truly – couldn’t have liked it more. artifacts from time gone past – things that might sit out by the dumpster or in the weather in the parking lot – reclamation of interesting pieces – even roughhewn – loved in our home. we tie new narrative to these, like the doublebows on the boots we wear…a smidge of warmth, of security, of new use, another layer – this doublebow – the old stories and the new stories. we are certain of their place in our home.

sometimes i wonder why i am so attracted to peeling paint, wobbly-legged tables, old windows and doors.

and sometimes i don’t.

“every day we reconstruct ourselves out of the salvage of our yesterdays…” (james sallis)

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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don’t. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

“don’t be a turd today.”

i would be remiss if i said this sign wouldn’t come in handy sometimes. we all need this reminder from time to time. being a turd covers a lot of ground – it’s an umbrella-heading for a lot of bad behavior. and it would make a really good personal commandment, if we all were to have those (and actually pay attention to this one in particular). 

googling this phrase, i can see that there are plenty of “don’t-be-a”s for sale. i just hadn’t run into this one before. 

it’s not like we don’t run into sayings – bits o’ wisdom – inspirational messages – funny quips – like, everywhere. you can’t avoid them. they are on people’s facebook pages, on instagram, on social media platforms across the board. they are on office walls, bathroom mirrors, over-the-highway signs, in gift boutiques, on daily calendars. everywhere. and sometimes they are exactly what you needed to see, precisely what you needed to read – some sort of uplifting gift of a few words. 

other times, they make you roll your eyes. it all depends on where they are posted, who has posted them, when they are posted. it’s the irony of it, after all. we can all point to a message posted by an entity that just screams hypocrisy (or a cauldron of other nouns with colorful descriptor adjectives). in those moments, it would seem no words would be better than words, nothing would be better than something. that posting some spouting antithesis of how something/somebody actually is would be a ruthless attempt at obfuscating their real essence, their real agenda. 

“but it’s just a positive message,” you argue, thinking i am – perhaps – being a turd about this.

well, perhaps so. 

but – as i wander about my days and you wander about yours – as we encounter wonderful optimistic messages wherever our journeys take us – online or in real life – i would suspect that in an overarching way – gearing down – in a message to laud it over many, many other messages – you might agree: that the best message that could be put out there – in every place, on every wall, in everyone’s heart – the one overall message that could maybe change lives (?!!!) would be:

don’t be a turd today.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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it’s a mad-lib life. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

yes, yes, two heads are better than one, for sure. particularly now. between us, we can have a complete grocery list, a complete song, a complete conversation. it’s like mad-libs, but real life. 

how is it that these words – practical words…not multiple-syllabic barely-used thesaurus type words or foreign expressions or highly technical jargon…just words like avocado or ravioli or well, i can’t remember any more examples…how is that these words disappear into thin air? they are seemingly irretrievable, escaping all the umms and uhhs buying time to try and unearth them. 

it is fortunate that we most often choose partners who are in our approximate age bracket. for there is grace when you are both punting for a word, jaunting into the vast recesses of your brain with a flashlight and bucket – sieve-ready – like you are panning for gold in an old gem mine deep underground. only not. 

instead, you are just trying to remember the round green things that go on top of chili. 

i’m going to try and remember my grocery list from now on. standing there in the middle of the market – gawking at each other – blank looks on our faces – going through the alphabet, certain that the word we are seeking starts with some letter (one that turns out isn’t even in the word) – can be embarrassing. people are staring. they are wheeling their carts around us – two statues in the fresh veggie section, frozen by the broccoli and brussels sprouts. we are causing a rubberneck situation in the aisle. we are certain to remember what we need – as soon as we get home.

in the meanwhile, we know that our people are here too. they are the ones who glance over with sympathetic and understanding eye contact. they calmly – without disdain – walk around us. they smile. because they, too, have a few wrinkles and – every now and then – they stand still in some aisle, a lost look on their face, gazing around in search of some elusive item. and then – you can see it – their face lights up and you know. avocado. that’s it. 

and we all skip to the check-out, hoping it is 5%-off senior day. because by now, we deserve it.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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bob-marley-ed. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

it’s like having bob marley on our refrigerator. every single time i glance at this bookmark, i can hear mr. marley and the wailers singing. it’s not a bad thing. i mean, what could be bad about hearing reggae in your head? it’s a reminder: don’t get mired in all the blankety-blank of life. in the end, it will all be ok. 

i was gifted the book “don’t sweat the small stuff” decades ago. the book spent 101 weeks on the ny times bestseller list. clearly, the stress consultant/psychotherapist richard carlson had some idea what he was talking about. the rest of the title of his book is “and it’s all small stuff” and the tagline subtitle is “simple ways to keep the little things from taking over your life”. yes. it’s THAT stuff.

we humans tend to immerse in worst-case scenarios – i suppose it’s our nature. and i suppose it depends on all the baggage you have carried with you. it predisposes us and we are burdened by all of it, weighed down by magnifying the things we worry about, convinced every little thing is worthy of our angst.

but then, there are those moments we are reminded – yet again – of the very preciousness of all this – this life. 

we have a stack in the basement. there are spare suitcases, backpacks, small carryons, small totes with zippers. baggage that holds baggage. they are in line to go. next to all the other things that don’t spark joy, next to all the other things that are extraneous, next to all the other things that other people might need more than us. 

with that stack – little by little – i am placing the baggage i have carried internally. as space is created in the basement, in the main part of our house, in the attic, i am lifting the darkness off other spaces that need air. i have no idea what that will mean, how that will change me in any way, what light i will feel.

but the postcard bookmark at the antique shoppe spoke to me. and we purchased it, brought it home and put it on the refrigerator.

on sunday we parked littlebabyscion in front of big red – closer to the garage on our one-car driveway. it was making a funny noise, so, access to big red instead. then on monday, big red refused to start. tuesday morning the browser on my old laptop stopped letting me into my blogsite. last night my crown fell off my tooth. the bathroom sink doesn’t drain quite right. the fridge is still tinkling on the floor every so often. and then, there’s much bigger stuff…things that have impacted me or us dramatically…things that we are dealing with…things on which we spend great deals of emotional and intellectual energy. big stuff. or so we think. at least right now.

but there’s also this: we snuggled under the comforter and the quilt with the window cracked and fell asleep last night. we ate leftovers from a meal we had shared with 20, listening to music our son created and the piano music of kostia – both feeding us. our dog is laying on the bed with us, even as i write this. i can hear the tenor windchimes out back. i have a hydroflask from my daughter that is filled with bold coffee at my side. my dentist is making room for me in his schedule. and we are cleaning out. things that center us.

you just never really know. anything.

on page 185 of “don’t sweat…”, chapter 76 is titled “get comfortable not knowing”. richard must have heard bob marley in his head too.

*****

TAKING STOCK from RIGHT NOW ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood

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best decision. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

because it was supposed to be blizzarding out right now, we are blogging ahead. it is not blizzarding out, however. it is raining and slushing and windy and is completely nasty out, but definitely not blizzarding. now, since you will be reading this on thursday and this is only tuesday, i am wondering will happen between now and then. the weather app says that it will all turn into snow at 3pm. and, as i look out the window right this second, a little snow is mixed in with the rain…so it is starting…maybe.

dogdog loves the snow more than anything. he is definitely voting “yes” for snowstorms and blizzards this winter. on the day i took this photo he walked outside and laid down on the deck, languishing in his bliss. he has been a snow-dog ever since we brought him home as a little puppy. 

when we lost babycat to the other dimension i spent hours looking through my photos of him. i hoped i had all of his little quirks captured, all the things that made him the cat he was – on film. but we never really do get it all though. i wasn’t video-ing constantly or taking photos of his every move. and so, many of his funny quirks and the things we adored about him – this cat that saved me – are simply tucked in, in my memory. 

and so, i am trying to capture a bit more with dogga. even his sweet pawprint in the snow. he is getting older now – an australian shepherd, he’ll be 11 this year – and he has some older-dog behaviors. like you, we are in love with our dog – just as we were with our cat. and, i suspect, like you, we don’t have any idea how this time has flown by so quickly. they capture our hearts immediately and time just doesn’t stretch out long enough. 

the years of covid pandemic isolation/social distancing/loss of jobs/staying at home have given us concentrated time with dogga. and he just wants to be with us. it’s mutual. the look on his face when we leave for the grocery store is heart-breaking and the greeting when we arrive back home is magical and full-body, every part of him wagging – especially the infamous aussie butt-wiggle. 

so this pawprint – in the snow and indelibly in our hearts forever and ever – and his tiny old-dog groans and a little slow-down – not to mention that look on his face anytime we leave – are tugging at us. he has been with us every day we have lived together, except for the first two. 

it was during those first two that we debated dog-nodog-dog-nodog nonstop after meeting him across the state at a farm on the river road in pepin. driving the budget truck across the country to move d in, we stopped at the sign that said “aussie puppies” just to see. d assured me – though we had talked about a puppy ‘some day’ – that aussies are usually merle or tricolor and not black, which was our intended puppy-color-of-choice. thus we thought were driving up the long drive not likely to fall in instant love. and then, farmer don told us that he only had one puppy left and that he had no takers because he was black. one look, one puppy hug and it was all over. we left a deposit – which we told farmer don he could keep either way – and drove away with a decision to make. 

and that’s when the debate started. it didn’t stop until two days later when we drove back up that long drive and this little black puppy came running directly to us, sitting down at the side of littlebabyscion. right then, we knew it was undeniable.

best decision ever.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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fortune cookie fortune. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

it was the first time in years – literally years – since we had ordered chinese food. way back before the pandemic we stopped ordering as soy sauce used in cooking my favorite fried rice contains gluten. we’ve purchased tamari for use at home – sans gluten – but you can’t expect a chinese restaurant to use this. but then, the up-north gang started to talk about panda – one of the restaurants in town – and i was havin’ a hankerin’ for their amazing fried rice and eggrolls. (i don’t require complicated foods to be extraordinarily happy!)

and so, we decided to forego the gluten-worry and we ordered. we were in fried-rice-heaven.  truth be told, we have purchased frozen fried rice from trader joe’s, added some more veggies and wok-ed it all up with tamari, which was pretty good. but…that container of fried rice and that little wax paper bag with our eggrolls after placing our order on the phone and jaunting over to pick it up – it inspired joy!!!

and then, there’s the fortune cookie. it’s funny these days – the back of the fortune cookie has an ad from jockey (the international headquarters is in this town), so you can’t get away from retail marketing even in your fortune cookie. nevertheless, this time we wished to pay attention to the cookie and its words of ancient wisdom. 

“your to-do list for tomorrow: do absolutely nothing.”

and so we did. we spent the next day facetiming with our daughter while she opened her christmas presents. we went antiquing and immersed in treasures and ideas. we hung out with dogdog and had happy hour and made homemade soup. we were fortunate and our day was filled with great fortune. we did nothing that even resembled tedium or hard work. i mean, it’s a fortune cookie! you have to pay attention!

it’s now under a magnet on our refrigerator. but the thing is – we have already cashed in on the magic. we used up the fortune. 

i wondered if that was it? was it spent? over? no longer our fortune?

and so, i googled it.

and found this:

“a fortune from a cookie typically lasts as long as you assign meaning to it or find it relevant. the lifespan of a fortune cookie’s message is subjective and varies from person to person.” (the ever-reliable knowledge factoid site – quora.com)

i’m thinking we will leave it up there on the fridge for a spell (or whatever the lifespan of this fortune cookie fortune might be). that way, we can glance over and “assign it meaning” any day we want!

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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it’s that way. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

“do you know where you’re going to

do you like the things that life is showing you

where are you going to

do you know?”

(theme from mahogany – do you know where you’re going to? – gerry goffin / michael masser)

we’ve spent days now – so far – going through, organizing, cleaning out. it is – in every way – an adventure. the items of life – in retrospect. stuff that tells stories, emotions wrapped around a piece of jewelry, a note, an old flannel shirt. 

it’s a slow go. this time – of looking back – is not to be rushed. some things require lingering a bit. i have sat with many a ‘thing’ in my hand, telling d a tale of its arrival in my life, its meaning, where it came from, where it took me, prompts of life lived. some of it is astonishing – things i’d forgotten. some of it is astonishing – things i still remember. some things elicit the “if i only knew then what i know now” response. some things move into the keep category, while others are making their way to join the do-not-keeps. some things i just stare at, wondering what on earth to do with them. 

and in some parallel plane – as i pick up each piece o’ life – touching it, feeling it – and then lay it back down – it is as if somewhere i am also picking up each piece of life – touching it, feeling it, laying it back down. this sorting is powerful, not merely tidying up.

and it is gaining momentum. 

as we look at the difference it makes, it invites us to keep going and going. deep into the bins and boxes. into the storage room and the attic, the kitchen cabinets, the back of the closet, the file drawers, the desks, the studio. it seems this is the time. this time the cleaning-out will take; the purge won’t simply be a great idea that dissipates into thin air. even with all the hard work – physically and emotionally – this time i can see it.

it’s that way → → →

and while we have no clue what might be out that way – the amorphous – waiting – we move in that direction. we are giving our home, our lives – all of it – the cleanse it all needs – to breathe and to invite in the new. 

we are awake. and we’re making space.

for whatever.

“ever forward,” d’s mom says.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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