There’s this place filled with creative thoughtful people who share many of the same philosophies and respect each other when their opinions differ. The thing that bonds these folks together is a common love for the art of photography. Strange thing, though, this neighborhood? It’s virtual. It’s Flickr and blogging and Facebook (and others I’m sure). It’s women who check in on each other when one hasn’t been around for a while. It’s a mutual admiration society in the best way, and it’s a visual feast. It’s friendships 2.0 – weird, maybe, to your grandmother. People who’ve never met – sharing intimate details of their lives with each other and trusting one another with secrets. It’s following your gut instinct and it’s impossible to explain to our kids (whom we would never ever allow to do the same). It’s meeting a bunch of strangers for lunch and conversation and it’s some of the most intimate friendships I have ever had. I can’t fully explain it except to say that we don’t get to choose our actual neighbors. And while I’m beyond lucky in that department, there’s something to be said for creating boundary-less networks and filling them with souls who we just plain connect with.

Last month hundreds of these women (I don’t mean to be sexist, but I can’t actually think of any men in my network) took part in an annual ritual of thanksgiving. We counted our blessings in images every day for thirty days. We went about our days considering what we had to be thankful for (and photographing some of them). And while I’d like to tell you that I spend my entire life like this, it wouldn’t be true. But for one month all the nit-picky crap was overshadowed by the small blessings of every day. And of those, there are many.

At the onset, I thought of it as a useful exercise in creative photography. Before long, though, my thinking had begun to change. New habits perhaps? A movement toward a glass-half-full mentality? I’m hoping.

Insert reality check: the things which annoy me daily did not go away. Scrubbing toilets did not become a joy and long dark cold afternoons did not suddenly become light and warm. But truth be told, things I may have previously ignored became drops filling my glass beyond that halfway line. So today, though I might not write about it, or even photograph it, I will walk through my day looking for the things I’m grateful for.

And I’ll start here. With you, my friends.

Just popping in to share a link with y’all. I recently completed a blog redesign for a photographer whose photos I’ve admired on Flickr for some time now. I was thrilled when Maegan hired me and I loved working with her. I’m excited to continue working together on a portfolio site for her business.

Maegan often writes about her creative process and inspiration and she hosts a series on the subject titled: ‘Dozen Details’ where she interviews artists about theirs. Today I’m honored to be featured on this series and I hope you’ll take a few minutes to stop over and take a look. While you’re there, be sure to say hi to Maegan—tell her Amy sent you!

I wanted to include Stephanie in this project for two main reasons. First, she’s awesome. Second, she represents the relationships in my life which have been formed through blogging. You see, I’ve never actually met Stephanie. Yesterday when we video chatted for our ‘portrait session’ was the first time we’d ever spoken face to face (as it were).

There is a moment when a reader/commenter relationship on a blog turns into a friendship. I can’t put my finger on exactly where that moment is, but with Stephanie it was soon after discovering each other that we became friends. Much of what I know about her, you could know too if you read her delightful blog. But I’m learning more through our email and phone conversations and we have plans to meet in the flesh this summer.

It’s an oddly intimate relationship where you start from a place of knowing someone before you’ve even met.

I know that Stephanie is trained as a social worker and worked as such until recently. And that she recently made a leap of faith to follow her dream and become a professional photographer. I know that the choice to become a stay at home mother and freelance photographer was driven by passion but that the transition to it’s reality has been somewhat bumpy. I know that Stephanie has deep and private feelings about spirituality and that they aren’t exactly the ones she was raised with. I know that Stephanie takes great pride in being a woman and a mother and that both of these things are paramount in her life choices.

She writes with a strong and irreverent voice but her actual voice is soft and sweet. To me, her photography illustrates her straightforward and insightful view of the world as her images are revealing without being contrived.

And in addition to all these things, I also know that when we finally meet, it will be wonderful.

Part of what I’m enjoying most about this project is paying attention to the ways in which people come into our lives—how exactly our connections happened. I love tracing back through our stories and remembering the moment we came to know each other. So many factors are at play that could keep us from stopping to say hello, and usually they do. But sometimes all the stars align and a connection is made.

I met Alexis through my friend Chris, who she happens to be married to.

Chris and I met because we frequented the same coffee shop in town. Our kids hit it off and so did we. So I met Alexis briefly once or twice and we would run into each other in the village occasionally. And then, years later, we met again. This time online. I came across her blog (I can’t for the life of me remember how) and she was among the first readers of mine. So we set about getting to know each other—virtually. Even though we live less than a mile from each other we’ve only managed one cup of coffee in the last two years. She is a busy Mama to three small girls and our schedules don’t exactly match up.

Most of what I know about Alexis is what I read on her blog or on Facebook. She is funny. Really funny. And clever and smart and very humble. She has impeccable taste, and did I mention how funny she is? She is  interested in, what I would call, authentic parenting, but also keenly aware of her imperfections and limitations. She has one of those smiles that lights up her entire face but she uses it sparingly as she often seems to be deep in thought about very serious matters. Alexis stays close to home and I don’t really blame her. Her home is warm and inviting and beautiful—and I’m vying for another invitation soon because I really like it when we get to visit with each other.

The quilting-blog world is all aflutter with talk of a new eZine launching today.

And while I’m pretty stoked to see what this group of creative minds come up with, I’m maybe even more excited to be seeing their logo and graphics all over the blogisphere. Why is that you ask? Because I designed them! Yep. Their site, blog and graphics were designed by none other than yours truly.

It occurs to me that I haven’t spent much time lately showing off any of the work I’ve done when I’m not here and I thought you might like to see. So, in addition to Fat Quarterly I’d like to introduce some of the blogs I’ve designed lately:

• Lula Inc.
• Hallelujah Anyhow
• Urban patchwo4k
• On Friday Night
• Maggie and Josephine
• Really Social Strategies
• By Needle and Thread
• Editorial Project in Haiti
• Chris J McLaughlin

and my personal sites:

• patchwo4k Folio and
• patchwo4k Weblog

In addition to blogs, I also design traditional websites. More and more my clients are opting to design and host their sites on content management systems (often referred to as CMS) like WordPress and Squarespace and even Blogger and Typepad. Individuals and small business owners are discovering the benefits of using these systems for their entire sites because of a few main advantages: cost, flexibility and speed. This is where I come in.

If you want to find out more or see more examples, please visit me at: patchwo4k Folio and feel free to contact me with any questions.

And if you have a few minutes, stop by some of the blogs above and say ‘hi’ – tell them Amy sent you!

It felt a little disingenuous, writing yesterday about such a happy thing. Our love story. The quilt which is supposed to remind me, every time I run upstairs to shove a stinky diaper in the bin. Every time I run downstairs to get ice from the freezer to soothe a boo-boo. Every six a.m. wake up call after getting grunted at by my ‘tween on my way for the coffee. It should remind me of all the love and the circumstances that brought us here. Truth is though, that it doesn’t always — remind me. I am able (much to my own disappointment) to walk past it a hundred times a day and not be moved. Someone carved squares from work-shirts and muslin and collected scraps from church-dresses and quilting bees to create an artful expression and warm their family. Decades later it has made it’s way into my life for a reason, and I forget. And even as I write this I understand that I wish for it’s symbol to bring light to my day and still it feels dark sometimes.

Last week was tough. Maybe it’s just January. I’ve been here before. We’re all cooped up. My body isn’t soaking up enough sunshine. I have a cold. The easy baby I nursed for the last two years now has his own opinion about everything and guess what? It’s the extreme polar opposite of mine. My eleven year old is fully steeped in middle school drama and moody behavior and guess what? He’s taking it out on me. My husband was AWOL at work. I found myself snapping.

And I walked by that quilt, seven hundred times, and I still felt dark.

But this place. This place causes me to take a closer look, to put things in perspective and for that, I’m grateful.

His passion and talent.

Giving something back.

A few warmer moments.

Company in my sick bed.

An entire day in NYC.

Wrapped in something I made for him.
(Photo and baby toes credit: Stephanie Hatzenbuehler)

A successful project.

Family tradition.

This week I will try harder. I will focus on the positive. I will live up to the story of that quilt.

I’ve started a blog in conjunction with my blog-and web-design business. My plan is to share tips and techniques for enhancing your blog no matter what platform you’re on. The first post is titled: Pimp my Blogger. Come on over and subscribe if your so inclined. I’d love to see you.

I’m interested, what would you like to see explained there?

I’m just stopping in to tell you that I’m still around. My cast is due to come off tomorrow and I’m hoping that I’ll be able to type with all fingers again. I assure you that in the meantime I’ve been composing insightful and clever posts in my mind (insightful and clever to me at least). If you’re used to me commenting on your blog or emailing you more frequently, rest assured that I haven’t deserted ship—I’ve been lurking around and I’ll be back. Soon.

In the meantime, quilt design upon quilt design are clogging my thoughts and the backlog of creative energy is giving me a headache. I have been able to draw so I’ve attempted to document my thoughts in the hopes of not forgetting them. Also, if I owe you a quilt block (John and Amy) you will get it. Soon.

In the time since I’ve been out of comission, a dear friend of mine has started blogging and for your own good I suggest that you run, don’t walk, to check out her clever, irreverant, insightful and extremely well-written blog.

Thanks for sticking with me and stopping by to say hi.

Yesterday I had a friend do something for me that moved me to a loss for words (don’t worry, the words have since returned) and a few tears.

Have I ever told you about my love affair with Portland, Maine? No? Well, pull up a chair.

I grew up in New York City but never felt comfortable there. Looking back now, I realize that I was a teenage girl and wouldn’t have been comfortable anywhere, but at the time, I thought I had to get away. I wanted to go as far away as I could from the Upper East Side of Manhattan, but I needed to be within a day’s drive of my parents’ open arms. So I went to the University of Maine (for those New York Times crossword puzzle fans among you) in Orono, Maine.

I fell in love with the state. As almost anyone who has ever lived in Maine will tell you, it has a magnetic draw. An indescribable pull that makes it difficult to leave. So after I left Orono, I moved to Portland. I got an internship at the Portland Stage Company. The year was 1990 and I was twenty-one. I had a fourth-floor-walk-up apartment on Danforth Street where I could hear the fog horns from every room. There was a digital clock on top of a downtown bank building that I could see from my bedroom window. I woke often to see single digit temperatures blinking brightly into my bed.

At the theater there was a production manager who I had a thing for. Fifteen years later I married him and we spent the first night of our honeymoon just blocks from that apartment.

Circumstance keeps us from moving back there, or anywhere, for now. But a girl can dream.

So when Kathleen was giving away a copy of Portland Through the Lens, I knew I had to have it.

But Tara’s was the lucky number. I was glad just to know the book existed and figured that one day I would buy it.

And then in yesterday’s mail:

Thank you Kathleen. I was very touched by your generous and thoughtful gesture.

Niall and I poured over it for a long time last night, each retreating to our own memories of  time spent there.

And a special bonus: one of the featured photographers is my newest bf (that’s blog-speak for bloggy-friend) Stephanie!

I love this book. It actually aches to look through it, but if it’s at all possible, it’s a good ache.

Maybe one day…

Thank you for visiting.

If you knew you couldn’t fail?

Stephanie posed this question on her slightly irreverent very funny and sometimes brutally honest blog, The Letter’s Edge. The question stayed with me and intruded into my consciousness for days. And then she asked me to write a guest post on the subject. Despite an unreasonable measure of jealousy over her trip to the Bahamas I accepted her invitation.

The resulting post contains a confession of personally epic proportions. One which I don’t reveal easily or often and have swirling insecurities about. So if you choose to click over and read it, please be gentle with me.

And if you do visit her site, don’t miss the link to her photography site, Lula Photography. You’ll thank me.