EnvelopesWeek10

Thank you.
I’m sorry.

Two things I say a lot these days.

“Thank you for being a part of The 70273 Project.”
“Thank you for sending the beautiful blocks.”
“Thank you for your kind, gracious words.”

I firmly believe – nay, I Know in my Bones – that the more you say Thank you, the more you have to say Thank you for.

“I’m sorry this note is so long in coming.”
“I’m sorry for my tardy reply.”
“I’m sorry I am running behind.”

More and more I fear the same is true for apologies: the more I say “I’m sorry”, the more I have to say I’m sorry for.

To those of you participating in The 70273 Project, please do not mistake my tardiness for a lack of appreciation or caring. This is not how I fantasized it would be. I am Super Woman. I got this.

Yeah, right.

Living with The Engineer, a Mother who lives in another state, a grand baby on the way in yet another state, Nancy who lives in still a different state (This may or may not be a metaphor.), a daughter and friends who live far away — continuing to stitch Nancy’s drawings — stitching quilts for family members — researching and writing books — developing 3 Hymns of Cloth series — developing a writing cloth workshop (I’m so excited – you should ask me about it sometime!) — giving presentations for The 70273 Project and performing/creating one-woman storytelling performances? No problem. Super Woman is at her most dazzling when juggling.

Hundreds of blocks coming in every week that need to be processed at 30 minutes/block? No problem. Super Woman eats systems for breakfast.

Social media, blog posts, emails, magazine articles, tv productions? No problem. Super Woman does communications in her sleep.

Wait. Sleep?

Super Woman used to regularly pull off all-nighters, getting her work done – creative and otherwise – while others slept. It was the only way, really, and it worked, leaving no consequences visible to the naked eye. But Super Woman walks a lot more these days or is getting a little age on her or something. Whatever the reason, her head demands to lay itself down on a pillow at night, and that has shaved off an entire day’s worth of productivity.

So to those of you who’ve made blocks for The 70273 Project; have offered to piece tops and quilt quilts; and to those of you who will, at some point in time, become part of The 70273 Project in one way or another ::: Thank you . . . and I’m sorry.

How ‘bout this . . .

Dear The 70273 Project Makers, Piecers, Quilters, Contributors,

  1. Thank you for bearing with me as I get the wrinkles ironed out of my systems.
  2. Thank you for being patient as I try to stay out from behind the 8-ball and occasionally fall and skin my knees and palms.
  3. Thank you for thunking me upside the head every now ’n then to tell me that this is not a project that lends itself to being caught up.
  4. Thank you for reminding me that The 70273 Project is not about being perfect in any way, shape, or form.
  5. Thank you for encouraging me to remember that Super Woman would not be here had she lived in Germany in 1940 because while she fantasizes about things being different, the reality is that not a single day of her life has she been perfect or behaved perfectly.
  6. Thank you for being a part of The 70273 Project, for sharing your stories, for spreading the word, for getting the bigger picture and deeper meaning of this project.
  7. And last but certainly not least, thank y’all for not once crossing your arms, tapping your toes, looking over your glasses,  and harrumphing out of the room in a huff.  Yes, that’s right. Not a single one of you – and remember, I’ve heard from people in 60 countries now – has huffed and puffed and threatened to blow my house down. Not. A. Single. One. To a person, y’all have been gracious, supportive, patient, appreciative, encouraging, and enthusiastically involved. So why am I writing this post? Because I thought you’d like to eavesdrop on a Committee of Jeanne conversation.

Love,
Super Woman
(who tells you this while trying to untwist her cape from around her neck so she can untangle those darn knots)