I don't know how I came upon this page but Riceworks, a whole food kind company, is offering $20,000 to worthy charities. The application was an online essay but not especially lengthy. I filled it out for CCC and said simply what I thought best represented the mission of the center. The application process seems to have ended and now there is a listing of the hundreds of places who applied. Each one has a mission, though very varied, and I'm sure every one of them could use the money.
Again the Littlest Knitters come through with a surge in development. Several of them started over with their knitting projects at home, with new focus and determination. K. cast off on her Mystery Object, and played around with it with her sisters and mother, deciding that it was a dress! I was chatting with someone today about how certain homemade items just turn out bizarre. It's great that K's family had fun imagining what should be done with this very strange knitted object.
Miss NB worked with S. our youngest member who has grown considerably since when we started. She is no longer little so I presented her with larger needles. NB told her that it was time to focus on being a better knitter, and even if she moved slowly, she was old enough to assess the quality of her own work.
Mr. T, the boy in our group brought in some of his other knitting from home and everyone complimented him on the nice work. He is interested in fiber arts in general and I brought him over to the quilt I made that's hanging on the wall of the preschool. "Can you teach me to sew? Can you show me what weaving is? Do you have a sewing machine?". T. is a future fashion designer, I think.
Perhaps we have lost another group member. She was the most strident and competitive among the children, frequently exclaiming, "That's not fair." Like my own children, the children in the knitting club realize that I am generous to all of them. They receive yarn, needles, support, teaching and encouragement as they need it. Name calling and bickering have ceased. Like the other girl who left, I will miss this little demanding girl too.
We have these surprising and serene moments. Today the 7 year old, sang "Oh How Lovely Is the Evening" and I joined in. NB and I came home happy from our group today.
A lovely weekend passed by too quickly. J and J came to help out with planning and execution of Miss NB's post birthday party. Below is a picture of the room pre-party. Unfortunately the day before the party Pablo took a huge dump in that room and though cleaned and vacuumed diligently by me ( and hurt my back) the room retained the faintest odor of dog poop.
I stayed in my bedroom for the entire party while Papa J sat with the dogs. The young people at the party have lost the knack of being comfortable with animals, probably communing more with virtual pets, and got the dogs overly excited which could have ended in some serious mauling.
JSN gave me updates by throwing the door open to my room, laying on the bed in her party clothes and giving reports on the proceedings. I also got food and drink with these visitations. All went well and it seemed as if everyone had a very good time. Pre-party JSN entertained us with her concept of looking chic in dark colored lipstick. She adorned herself as a not so normal clown or two year old. We all agree that she is absolutely the funniest person we know, but because she is shy, very few people get to see her comedic talents.
JN is the most accomplished host I know, and he is so gracious and welcoming to people who would otherwise feel awkward. He helped with the party on so many levels and we thank him for it. I think I might have to make those "pigs in blankets" for dinner.
The green buttons come from an antiques store in Concord, as well as a NY flea market. I love green and I am beginning to have an affinity for old buttons. Here are the seeds of yet a new collection. Now everyone has a busy week ahead.
I was informed that one of the girls in the knitting club would not be returning. I was given a long winded explanation by the after school director, none of which I could decipher because she spoke too quietly and quickly as the other children entered the room.
"K. left after school," an 8 year old informed, "because her mother could not pay her bills." I found this description strange but believable, even though all services at the center are subsidized and are on a pay what you can basis. The girl's mother was expecting her fourth child and probably couldn't afford the balance.
The girls in the group show surprising compassion and speak well of our missing member. This was a girl who seemed to have very low confidence but who benefitted in many unexpected ways by learning to knit. "At least she has her knitting," was what several girls offered as reassurance.
These children are at risk, this I know. One little girl who has been missing from the group for 2 weeks had her social worker visit last week. The little boy who joined our group has some large facial scars which were noticed by NB. They are deep gashes that look like they were never sutured and we speculated on their etiology. The best case scenario was that they were just poorly healed abrasions from falls.
NB helped me to pull the group together once again. We rearranged some seating and started offering vocabulary words again. We found some old donated skeins of wool and the kids really liked them. Pretty soon, I think we'll start accepting new members again.
From the first meeting I attended at CCC as a prospective board member, a little voice in the back of my mind told me to prepare myself for inconsistencies and non sequiturs. The director of operations told me not to worry about the issues presented. No history of the institution, the board, or of its challenges were deemed to be relevant as I was elected to become a member of a decision making body.
I attended a few board meetings and felt that I was awash in new vocabulary and election procedures, and it appeared that I was not alone in this confusion over issues and terminology. Previously I had taught at CCC for a nearby university that had backed out of its community obligations. I had nursing students there weekly who participated in preschool activities and also did an amazing amount of health promotion. I became friends with all the teachers and workers there but hardly ever saw the director of operations who sat in her office, backed turned, facing her keyboard.
The director asked me to lunch which I ended up paying for shortly after my admission to the board. She definitely had an agenda and this added to my confusion. Only now do I realize that I was asked to join the board as a potentially major donor. She thought that we might throw some of our vast wealth (ha ha) at the poor children of CCC. After about a year, I told this person, "You should never have asked a Jewish person to participate on your board without realizing the we Jews ask tons of questions and rarely accept the status quo." I brought a young friend to the board with experience in not-for-profit agencies who also happens to be Jewish and everyone has come to view us as the most probing, acerbic, and annoying members. Our stance is hardly appreciated.
I take a lighter view of things now that I am on the board for three years. I donate what I can, when I can and I don't expect any consistency in priorities or actions from the people who make decisions. This past week, unbeknownst to the board until after it was a fait accompli, the preschool director was fired. I had always felt her to be the wrong person for the job. She saw everything in terms of, literally, black and white, and had little exposure to a changing world. She was suspicious, often rude, sometimes charming, but above all, very provincial.
The neighborhoods around CCC are changing rapidly. I drive from home through the streets of the neighborhoods and I can see that the Hispanic community is reaching into previously held African American turf. The developers and the yuppies of the South End would love to get their hands on the property of CCC as it is in a prime location on a large lot. There are all new ethnic groups entering the area. Muslim women from different regions stroll down the streets in groups wearing traditional garb. The changing demographics are fascinating.
For many reasons, our board is an anachronism. We are all good people of serious intent but none of us have the vision or authority to pull the center out of the morass. Instead we embark upon fruitless endeavors, or put all our eggs in the one basket of a suburban community who feels sorry for the poor black children and holds high society auctions for their benefit. It is their donations which are keeping us afloat.
Too much confidence is placed in itinerant do-gooders who show up, then disappear often leaving more confusion in their wake. Last week we received a memo asking us to email information about where we work and our professional positions to the development director because a "new board member" wanted to know who he would be working with. It's true that an unknown gentleman attended our last meeting where a lot of dirty laundry was aired, and he jumped in with his assessments. This man was never introduced because J, the chairperson of the nominating committee was not present, so we never admitted this man to the board. Yet his being white and very confident allowed him to aggressively ask us for personal information. Where is your CV buster? Absurd, no?
In the years that I have been a member of the board, we have traveled around in circles, often uninformed with decisions being made in back rooms. The big donors from the affiliated church turn out to only donate an annual pittance and the mortgage that was promised us was denied with hardly an explanation. The executive members of the board fail to accomplish any goals they've set. Fewer and fewer people and organizations are interested in sustaining a nearly century old settlement house organization.
Instead of being perpetually aggravated, I put myself on a path that provides direct service and interaction with the clients of CCC. I started my knitting club in November and I don't care who wants to feed off it and how it is marketed. I dismiss the personal compliments received for my work from people from near and far. In this case, I clearly know my objectives and goals.
"Look Miss M. I've been knitting this all week." The last and most reluctant of my knitters turns out to be the most prolific, even as she was with French knitting. The object she is creating is quite extraordinary. She actually began her project with twelve cast on stitches and it grew and grew to be a number we estimated to be about 70, but is probably closer to 100 stitches.
"What can she use it for?" one of the girls wisely asked. We all took guesses and decided that it would best be a hat since it curves and contours in unexpected ways. K., the knitter who created this unexpected bit of art was most proud of herself.
In fact, she felt so good about herself that for the first time, she and her older sister were very noisy during our club meeting. They talked about their younger sister who farts a lot, discussed who in the room might be wearing deodorant, and imitated an old man they encountered in an elevator who had some kind of shaking palsy. It was nice to see them feeling so free and nutty, but it was also hard to contain.
There are always patients coming to urgent care despite all circumstances and obstacles. I never imagined that there would be a day when the schedule was empty, and I especially thought that last evening because we had a snowstorm and still saw lots of kids. I logged in today to check the statuses of some of the cases of last evening, and unbelievably the schedule is nulled (nullified?). Apparently there was a water main break and all business for the day needed to be postponed.
Presidents Day was horrendously busy. My friend, A, who had driven to NJ and back for a party was the most productive among us. "I'm the Energizer Bunny." she informed us as we worked diligently throughout the day. The sweet young pediatrician told us that he was basically riding on our experience to get himself through the day. No kidding. He was given some stern advice, more than once, by me as he evaluated patients. I had to deal with some truly bizarre phone calls in the meanwhile that could not be translated into words. "What was that about?" I was asked more than once. "I cannot even begin to describe the conversation" was all I could say.
The medical assistant who had been so rude to me was most affectionate throughout the weekend. It bordered on the bizarre but I accepted her friendliness graciously. She had been counseled by administration and human resources in proper etiquette and then given another chance. She asked me," Did you get to play with the pillow of the child you saw earlier? It plays a dance tune and was so cute." I answered, "No, there was no playing. That little one had pneumonia and was pretty sick." If it's busy, I don't play with toys.
Last night struck a frustrated chord for me. This has been a very sick winter for our clientele, with the flu, gastrointestinal illnesses, the common cold, and viral illnesses causing high fevers without a specific source. Again, I must say that young parents have very little tolerance for taking care of sick children. I was told several times over, " I was here yesterday and she is not better today. I want some answers!" "Um, yes, your child has a viral illness and needs supportive care at home." Mostly these parents responded with more anger. Sorry.
My loveliest patients of yesterday evening were my first. They brought in a 4 week old child who had been vomiting at home. A lovely auntie came with the young mother to serve as an interpreter since the mother was a recent immigrant from the Dominican Republic. Anyone in pediatrics who saw this presenting problem would immediately begin to ponder the same diagnosis as I made. The child was still actively breastfeeding and his diapers were wet. His emesis was not projectile, but guess what? I felt an "olive". I did. He had surgery today for pyloric stenosis. I'm sure he'll do well post-operatively.
I am glad to be off for the rest of the week.
This evening Miss NB and I watched Marc Jacobs' live-streamed runway show. It restored my faith in truly talented fashion designers. Marc designed a collection of beautiful, masterfully-cut, ladylike pieces. He renounced the hardcore, overly sexy style that has been shown on too many runways of late. NB was worried the hemlines were too long, but I think Marc was just saying it's time to change directions. I agree.
Fashion Week has become more and more about hangers on and the rise of the blogger. The events are packed and frenzied, and the shows last only 10 minutes or so.
While I like the idea of democratic fashion, the economy of the situation is all wrong. Many of the designers showing at Fashion Week can barely afford to get by, and sink all of their money into a show. The shows are great for publicity but have had less and less bearing on sales over the years. They are selling really expensive clothing ($1500 plus) and compete with hundreds of designers also selling at this price point. Who can afford to shop from multiple high-end designers? It is hard to figure out knowing that the world's economies are largely suffering.
The bloggers make a few dollars from online advertising on their sites, and many are wearing H and M and vintage to the shows in an effort to look the part. They sit closer and closer to the runways, and earn more and more respect (or rather celebrity) but do not make a single dollar from it.
I've gone to a few presentations and events so far, and thought I'd share my photos. And one from tonight's glorious show.
For a long time I've said that I was going to buy a dress form. Little did I know that dress forms come in hundreds of styles with differences is sizes, adjustability, features, and prices. I finally decided on the blue headless lady who is displayed above. In the first photo she is wearing a sweater that is in progress for JSN. She does look a little like W. Houston, for those who know who I'm referring to, but just with the sweater on.
I love my little sewing room. C and Dad fixed it up for me and it is where I stash all my supplies, including fabric, yarns, threads, craft books, and half finished projects. The stacks of fabric are always changing configuration as I pull the fabrics out from piles and rearrange them according to what I'm thinking or working on. It is a messy place but makes sense to me.
When I enter my sewing room from the little room before it, which has more Denebola's than I care to possess, I am always surprised by how nice the room smells. This is so because I bought a large quantity of potpourri to make sachet gifts one holiday season but ended up having a lot left over. The smell is diminishing over time but still, it's a nice scent.
My sewing machine is a basic model Pfaff and I had thought about an upgrade. I went to the store where I bought the machine and instead of leading me to the most expensive model, the woman in the store asked why I wanted a more automated machine. She told me that the costumers at the Boston Ballet use my machine and would never trade up. It's been versatile enough for me over time.
That little room has flooded a couple of times in the past. There is better drainage around the house and it has stayed dry. Jack is the only force of nature who had done recent damage to my fabrics and yarns. He runs in and grabs something quickly, and then drags it under the trundle beds in the other room. He thinks he is so cool.
Miss NB accompanied me this afternoon to my knitting club. I had let the girls bring their needles and yarn home for the week, as I said earlier. We made bets between ourselves about how many girls would come back with their supplies, and who the culprits might be who would leave them at home.
Surprisingly, our most responsible group member left her needles somewhere with little recollection of where they might be. Her younger sister remembered her supplies but had forgotten how to knit. They look disheveled today, and not especially clean. We wondered and worried a little bit about their living circumstances. Our youngest member came in with her yarn in a tangled mess and all her knitting undone. She blamed the situation on a girl at school.
We took a few steps backwards today, as I suppose must happen from time to time. Our most vocal and opinionated member of the group had trouble filtering her comments. What came out of her mouth was belligerent, demanding, and pretty unreasonable. We had several confrontational moments, but neither I nor NB ever lost perspective.
The child who I have been most concerned about, related to lack of confidence contrasted with a seductive approach to the opposite sex has happily surprised us. She has gained confidence in many different domains, including her speech and appearance. She is becoming a good knitter and feels proud of it. She most enjoys my review of vocabulary words and gave good definitions of "symmetrical" and "exclaims" today. She is nearly eleven years old and her mother who is expecting her fourth child is twenty-five.
NB won a national psychology award by doing an experiment with children's estimation of ages. The newest member of our group asked if I knew a knitting teacher Miss P, who is 72 years old. The girls seized this as a moment to guess my age and Miss NB's too. They concurred that I am between 33 and 35 years old, and NB is fifteen. The girls seemed confident of their estimations so we left it at that.
About halfway through our class, C. who is the preschool director stood in the doorway and said that there was another child who wanted to join our group. I frowned at her as I was having trouble enough with 7 girls already. I could not see who the child was, so I went to the doorway and there he was, T., the first boy to join our club.
This young man already knows how to knit and has made himself a scarf which was the talk of the town. He was reluctant to come in and sit down. T. stood by me, and I handed him needles and yarn immediately to lure him in. I asked if he wanted me to cast on. Courtesy of his knitting instructor, the 72 year old Miss P., T. told me that he can cast on in several different ways. I showed him my way which he recognized and duplicated. I commented that the needles I gave him were rather long (14") and he told me that he knit with bamboo needles at home.
NB and I fell for this little man immediately and especially loved his very deep voice. He said that he would return next week. I am already thinking and planning some tactics for getting us back on track again.
