Category: New Release

This has been the hardest summer of my life, and I apologize for throwing my pain at you right off the bat. I’ve been torn about writing about it and have been putting it off. But I need to say a few words about my sister and her loss. So, here it is…

Cancer is sneaky and evil. It took my little sister way before her time. That makes me angry. Her loss makes me unbearably sad and often lonely without her to talk to every damn day. She was my best friend, the one who got me more than anyone else. Believe me, I never took that for granted, even if our personalities were oil and water, which meant we got on each other’s nerves as only siblings can do for all 59 years, while also always having each other’s backs.

We battled cancer together in 2025, but hers was the nastier beast, and, thanks to our faulty medical systems, detected far too late. I wrote a story about a day at chemo when my sister Facetimed me as she always did. You can read it at the end of this blog. It’s also part of Revival, an anthology from The Dreamers Bookshop Authors Collective. Jodi and I bonded on a whole other level through our treatments. I will always be grateful for that even as the reason for it keeps hitting me in the guts.

Jodi was able to make choices and decide how she wanted things to go right up until the end. There is a sort of peace in that. It’s a rare thing. It’s hard on loved ones with that weighty clock ticking relentlessly overhead. It gives you lots of time to think, time to say goodbye, and time to grieve in advance. There are both positives and negatives in this process, as you might imagine. Actually, I’m still sorting that out. As for Jodi’s handling of things, she was the bravest person I ever knew.

Rest in peace little sister…

Jodi Suzanne Lewellyn

July 13, 1967 – August 22, 2026.

To comfort me in my grief is my sister’s rescue pup, Luci. She is now part of our pack (aka, household) and gifts us with her sweetness and energy every minute of every day.

Now onto other updates and moving ahead again in life, maybe a little more slowly and more deliberately.

Treasures of the Pharaohs

My mom and stepdad (in their 80s) moved back to California to be closer to Jodi. That means closer to me in northern Nevada also. So, Mom and I had an outing together this month, a time to remember Jodi and reconnect with each other. Proximity does help with these things. They moved into a Sun City Active Community. That means bus tours! We headed to San Francisco and Golden Gate Park on a giant bus to visit the DeYoung museum and see the dazzling and impressive Pharaohs’ Treasures. We didn’t have time to explore more of the park, which I absolutely adore. I hope we can return again. There is so much to see there, and the atmosphere is rich in cultural and historic San Francisco vibes. Still, we soaked up enough of it at the DeYoung and enjoyed a delicious lunch in the cafeteria. Then, it was a long bus ride back to Lincoln, stuck in crawling traffic all the way. But hey, we didn’t have to drive.

Here are a few highlights, including the little sculptures I bought us as souvenirs and actually made in Egypt: The god Horus (falcon = Kingship) for Mom, and the goddess Taweret (hippo = fertility) for me. I was super happy with my Mediterranean salad, which came with my first falafel. It was delicious! So was Mom’s lentil soup.

Latest Release

Stitchy Things

And yes, through it all, my stitching has helped me cope, and I haven’t stopped shopping for the latest patterns from all the wonderful designers. I’ll share just a few projects this time around but know there is so much more!

We are nearly done with Lola Crow’s Museum After Midnight stich along. The last exhibit comes Friday. I will miss the exciting suprises in my inbox each week.

I finished an old project, Summer is in the Air, by Brittercup Designs, which I started in May of 2019. I had actually shelved it, then recently decided to bring it out. It was halfway done, and I finished the other half in a day. Not sure why I waited so long. Look at those cute buttons charted with the design. I love these little darlings, which designers incorporate into their creations from Just Another Button Company. They are also available at the fabulous online store, 123Stitch.com

Three of these, The Raven’s Harvest Moon (by Counting Puddles), A Garden’s Beauty (by Heart in Hand), and Lucky Star (by Bad Stitch), I started just this week. I worked on one I would love to finish soon, Yellow Submarine, by Blackbird Designs. I’d love to finish the Just Cross Stitch Magazine yearlong stitch along, Tapestry of Twelve, but I’m still working on the second season of the year, so might be late on that.

For plans… I’ve got more stitch-alongs to participate in and many I want to complete. Nice spooky ones, too, such as Here Lyse the Body by Witch Garden Crafts, inspired by 18th Century tombstones. The fabric was also dyed by the designer. Group participation is great for actually getting a big project done in a reasonable time, if one can keep up.

I’ve got a fun community event starting this Friday to motivate my needle, the Great British Cross Stitch Baking Show challenge (follow JessieMarieDoesSuff on Instagram and Facebook for this and other stitching challenges). Can’t wait for the show to drop here in the U.S.! I’ll be assigning projects to the contestants and stitching a number of stitches based on things like who got a handshake, who was last in technical, and who was star baker.

Lastly, I signed up for a year-long mixed media art class with Willowing Arts at Willowing.org. I’ve enjoyed Tamara Laporte’s online collaborative classes in the past, and I’m hoping I can really dig in and stick with all or most of the projects in 2027 (without falling behind on my stitching projects – Ha!) We have taster classes through October to whet our appetites. There are over 30 teachers participating for a variety of techniques and styles, but it’s all based on one theme – wild nature.

Thank you for letting me share life’s bumpy ride and its surprising little joys. I know we all have our ups and downs, and I certainly hope you’re on an upswing at the moment. Big hugs.

Here is the short story I promised…

A Break Too Deep

A short story by D. L. Lewellyn

We mask up for the puncture. The nurse’s eyes are kind as he inserts the needle into the port. It hurts only a little, and I’m pleased I don’t wince. I’m used to it now. It’s my fifth round sitting in one of these reclining chairs, hooked up to bags of deadly toxins. The chairs are heated too, and they lift so I can look out the window and see the mountains. I acknowledge to myself how fortunate I am to be so close to a new state-of-the-art cancer center.

Our masks come off, and he smiles at me, his eyes a warm chestnut—healer eyes. “It’s worth it to make you better, isn’t it? Can I scan your wristband?”

I nod, smiling back and holding up the QR code to his phone, noticing how well his trimmed mustache and goatee set off his handsome face. He turns to the computer screen and rattles off the familiar premeds and the chemo drug that will flow into my body to eradicate the mutant cells trying to kill me. That’s the goal, anyway. The Red Devil didn’t get me in the first four rounds—just destroyed my blood—but that’s recovering. I’m confident I can withstand the next four rounds of nerve-blasting Paclitaxel. The drug alone will take three hours to circulate through my veins, and I’ve dreaded this first extra-long session, though I take comfort knowing I’m halfway through.

“What did you do this weekend?” my nurse asks me as he scans the monitor for all my stats.

“Watched the Singapore Grand Prix,” I say, then confess that was about it since my husband and I are homebodies. “How about you?”

A shy smile flits over his face as he heads toward the door, and his eyes dip to the floor. “It’s embarrassing to admit, but I’m a Swifty.” I want to tell him not to be embarrassed for loving music, but he goes on, his shyness vanishing as his eyes light up. “I went to a record drop party. The crowd was amazing! I missed her last tour and really regretted it, but this came close to making up for it. After that, I went to a new bar downtown. My sister is in a band, and they played there for opening night.”

“Sounds fantastic,” I say, grinning widely. I think of my little sister and how we support each other like that, at least in all the ways that count. There was plenty of conflict over the years, too, but we always had each other’s backs.

We talk more about the band and the bar, and then I make my own shy admission. “I write stories. That takes up a lot of my weekend, too.”

“Really? What do you write?”

“Fantasy romance.”

“I love romance! Are you published?”

“Self-published.”

“Ooh, I’ll have to check out your books.”

An independent author appreciates a response like that, though it’s probably just politeness. I hand him my card, presenting it with flair, having learned to seize these moments. His smile is genuine as he skims over the card before slipping it into his pocket.

My stomach growls loudly. He asks if I’d like a snack, and I tell him I’m fasting—something I’m proud of because it’s helped me get through this ordeal with minimal side effects and even a few added benefits like less joint pain. With my husband’s support, I’ve changed my diet and lifestyle since discovering the lump and lost fifty pounds, and I feel more energetic between treatments. It’s a victory in this fight I can hold onto.

“Do you need anything else?” he asks.

“I’m good,” I assure him, and he winks at me, closing the sliding door behind him. I’m enveloped in silence except for the quiet hum of the machine. He’s already given me a heated blanket and ice chips—the blanket to block the merciless air conditioning, and the ice to mask the bitter taste the drugs leave in my mouth, just one example of fluctuating between hot and cold–a constant state during this quest to halt the transmutation of my cells.

My hollow stomach growls again, reminding me that I’m working hard at rebuilding myself my way. Granted, some of the lost weight is muscle, thanks to the toxins—maybe even half a pound of hair. I used to have lovely, thick hair with silvery streaks, but now my scalp is bare, as is my face and body—baby-smooth. Naked eyelids feel the strangest. I definitely took my eyelashes for granted… and my nostril hair. Who knew you could miss nostril hair?

I’m a featureless golem, feeling a bit like Frankenstein’s bride with some parts removed and others stitched back on, ready to reform and become whole again. I clench my jaw. This microscopic destroyer won’t defeat me. Blasting me with chemicals might age me, wreck my blood, weaken my heart… break me into lesser pieces, but I can rebuild myself. I can reverse the damage. Be stronger than I was before.

A chuckle escapes as I’m reminded of the opening to ‘The Six Million Dollar Man,’ and I think of my sister again—when she was nine—wanting so badly to be the Bionic Woman. She dreamed aloud with such passion and frequency that I was convinced we would hear that echoey, slow-motion special effects sound every time she jumped off the deck into our doughboy pool…

Na na na na na na na…

My phone rings. As if in answer to my reminiscing, my sister’s face lights up the screen. She’s three and a half years younger than me, and just as bald. We look like twins.

As we chat like we always do at least once when one of us is in the chemo chair, the nurse opens the sliding glass door and asks how I’m doing. I smile and tell him I’m fine. On impulse, I hold out my phone so my sister can say hi. She loves meeting new people and has an affinity for infusion nurses. He winces at our resemblance, his eyes filling with sympathy, but his smile quickly takes over. They introduce themselves.

“Hi, Brian,” she beams at him. I can’t see her, but I know she’s beaming. “You’re so handsome,” she says. “Thanks for taking care of my sister.” His face couldn’t shine any brighter as he grins back. She has that effect on people.

I tell him, “We started chemo a day apart.”

She chimes in, as I expect her to. “I’ve got ovarian cancer. It’s advanced, but we’re working on making me operable for some extra time.”

The sudden lance of pain in my heart weakens my arm, causing the phone to wobble in front of Brian’s face. He looks at me, his eyes filling with a deeper understanding.

My sister and I are warriors. Cancer won’t defeat me because mine is conquerable. I can revive. My little sister? Her foe is breaking her into too many killing pieces, and there’s no OSI to rebuild her like Jaime Sommers.