I’m about to begin a new project. For the next week, I’ll be working with Out of Hand Theater and playwright Steve Yockey on the beginnings of a new play. I am super charged to be working with these people. I haven’t done new-play development in ages, and these artists have a creative approach that kicks down brick walls.
Which is pretty terrifying. I mean, this requires intelligence and commitment and risk-taking and vulnerability, and all that other artistic rigmarole that I love so much it scares my socks off.
So, just to keep the artistic/domestic relationship in balance, I’ve given myself over to domestic pursuits for several days: gardening, cooking, cleaning out a closet, eating ice cream sundaes with my daughter . . . you know, the whole June-Cleaver-meets-Earth-Mother thing.
Today it was sewing. My mother and I belong to a chapter of Newborns in Need. I discovered this group when I was looking for activities to do with Mom. As her cognitive abilities change, she can’t do elaborate embroidery anymore (and believe me, her needlework was amazing).
She can, however, hem baby blankets and stuff little fleece bears, and it makes her happy to be useful. So we take our handiwork to the chapter meeting once a month. It feels like an old-fashioned sewing bee.
Sewing with my mom, playing with the cat, riding bikes with my husband, putting dinner on the table. Such was my day of domestic tranquility. I think I’m grounded enough now to go out on an artistic limb. And saw it off behind me.