One of the perks of working at home with your spouse. Sometimes, he brings you coffee and chocolate.

Shop Local, Handmade, and Small Businesses this Holiday Season. It makes a difference.

Shopping Local, Small Business, Handmade

It’s shameless self-promotion, but I’m proud of Mireio and I highly recommend shopping there this holiday season. Gift wrap is complimentary (free! though it will say nice things about you if you want it to!) and shipping is prompt. I’ll even ship to your intended gift target if you’re late to the shopping task! Not to mention everything is handmade by me, with love and care and from the best quality supplies I can find!

But Mireio isn’t the only option out there. And I get it if you look at my store and say, “Great work, Wende, but it’s not for me.” There are dozens, if not hundreds, of local options, small businesses, and handmade artists out there who would love your support. And it makes  a difference.

It makes a difference in your local economy. That’s pretty obvious, right? It makes a difference for small businesses, like mine, who rely on those holiday dollars to provide Christmas and clothes and food and to keep those twinkle lights on. Really, our Christmas doesn’t happen without it! And while I don’t believe that a handmade gift is better than a store bought gift (come on, ipad anyone?) I do think a handmade gift makes a difference to the receiver, even if that message is subliminal. YOU are choosing to support other artists or people in your community… that says something!

I know we all compile a gift list and it’s tempting this time of year, with all our pressing responsibilities and engagements, to blitz through that list as quickly as possibly and with the least amount of financial trauma.

Oh, I get that!

But I can’t tell you what it means to independent artists and crafters to realize that you chose THEM to supply a gift. So many of us give our hearts and souls to our little businesses. We put in long hours and a bit of ourselves into everything we make, and we hope and pray that someone will come along and see the beauty we see. So when you do, it’s a great moment. Or, for me it is. Every time. It’s a little bit of validation of what I do. See, your choice makes a difference here too.

However,  I also know that  not everyone on your list is easy to shop for. Some people want electronics and gift cards and all those things that are not local, small business, or handmade. Um, I procreated one of those, so I do get it!

Which is why I’m asking that you make a difference this year buy purchasing just one gift that meets the local, small business, or handmade criteria. JUST ONE. Oh, sure, if you want to go hog wild and do all your shopping at a craft fair… YOU GO GIRL, er GUY, er PERSON! But for the rest of us, with tricky lists and busy schedules, just one will do.

It will make a difference. To so many people. Maybe even to you.

I’m pretty sure this belonged to the former owners of our house. And I have no idea why we still have it. Except, that every time I re-discover it, I can’t seem to stop laughing enough to toss it out. So, back in the drawer it goes. Don’t ask me why I think it’s funny, I’m clueless about that as well.

Do you keep stuff like that? Random things that make you laugh?

Foamy lattes always make the list

Counting My Blessings

We are a week into living in chaos and it’s frighteningly easy to become overwhelmed by this situation. I’ve cried more in the past week than I did in the previous 3 months of hotel life.

But it is November, and November reminds us (albeit often conjoined with a little gluttony) to stop and count our blessings. To be thankful. To cherish the moments in front of us and express gratitude for the moments passed. Oh, and to post those blessings on Facebook. Hello, a month of status updates. Done.

Too cynical? Maybe just a little?

Sure, there’s a line. And it’s easily crossed into “my life is so awesome, I just have to brag about it.”  Judging by my facebook stream it’s a line most of us don’t even know exists!  But it’s just as easy to cross over into that cynical space of thinking nobody can be that perfect, hopeful, lovely, etc. . . and chalk up their efforts to express their gratitude to narcissism.

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Love from Paris: Gorgeous gifts from the amazing Elizabeth Germo of En Route.

To say Sunday morning was bad, well, would be short selling it. As I sat waiting for IZ to come back with breakfast, the reality that our 3 month stay in a clean hotel was coming to an end, and that I, mother of a teenager, was moving my child and assorted pets back into this distasterpiece sunk in. I felt like the worst mother in the world. I mean, who lets their kid live in this filth and destruction?

“Baby, it’s going to be OK. Here, eat a chocolate croissant,” as he hands me a pastry and an almond latte. But there are some things that pastry can’t solve.  With the realization that all my hopes and plans to have our space somewhat sorted, or at least my child’s room cleared of construction debris, were just pie in the sky dreaming—the universe clearly didn’t get the memo— came a flood of tears. IZ kept saying, “Sweetie, think of it as camping in your own house.”

Um.

No.

It’s not camping. It’s a freakin’ obstacle course. If I get a chance to video the horror, I will. But in the meantime, trust me, you don’t want to live here right now.

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The Brawny Guy says, “Have an Extra Strong Halloween.”

This is his last year trick-or-treating. He’s only going because one of his best buddies is a bit younger and wants to uphold their long standing tradition. But, you know it’s time to stop* when you’re bumming your dad’s footwear for your costume. Happy Halloween, everyone. Stay Safe. See you soon.

*or when your mother says, “let’s take some photos” and you just give her that teenager angst look. Yeah, time for YOU to stay home and hand out candy. Good thing you’re living out of a hotel right now, buster!

Photo via Susie Harris. You can win this sign!

This is it. . .

Well, folks, this is it. Halloween. And the day before we “occupy our house”. (IZ has been  joking with me all weekend about that. He’s using our real address, which makes the joke funny… er?)

Our house, sigh. It’s a freakin’ war zone. And it’s no place to be living. As in no kitchen, no bathrooms*, no laundry, no nothing. We emptied out a kitchen, laundry/pantry, and two bathrooms into the remaining spaces of the house with the promise that SOMEONE else would put it all back, clean my house from top to bottom, before we moved back in.

Um.

So.

Today I will be multitasking. Doing last minute laundry, carving a space for my kid to sleep, making sure everyone including the dog gets a good bath, and staging tomorrow’s exit, while trying for some semblance of normalcy on a day that isn’t normal. It’s Halloween, after all. And while we didn’t carve pumpkins or decorate the house (Although, talk about a nightmare! Here trick-or-treaters, you get candy. You parents can walk through our disasterpiece and be haunted by the shades of home renovation.) I’m determined that we celebrate in our own small ways.

I don’t know when I’ll be back online for the next few days. You’d think vacating a hotel room would be easy, but . . . I have fears, people, real fears that have been invading my dreams. We brought all this stuff over in a course of 3 months and now I have to get it out of here in one day. (with no place to put any of it at our home.) With a kid and a dog and a cat. So, if you touch bases in the next week and discover I’ve not updated the blog, please pray for my little family??

Every little thing is gonna be alright. Just not yet.

* there is a tiny powder room in my studio on the lower floor. That means a two flight hike in the middle of the night. I’m thinking no more water after 9 pm for the next few days. Heh.

Photo Caption: This post is going naked. You can imagine whatever image you’d like and insert it in this spot, m’kay?

What I’ve Learned:

Despite my facebook declarations to save my melt-down for New Year’s Day, I met my end yesterday. Stood in the hallway in front of the kitchen door and just wept.

What’s worse, (yes worse than missing deadlines by months) I melted-down in front of the very nice guy who is plastering our walls. Two days after I stood in the very same spot and told this same plaster artist, “I don’t know how I feel about the plaster. I can’t think about that right now, because IZ is in the ER and they think he’s had a heart-attack.”

Yeah, it’s been that kind of a week.

Let me put you out of my misery. IZ is fine. Well, he’s not, but he’s not having a heart-attack or a stroke or anything dire. He’s just under the immense pressure of trying to finish our house and work full time and parent and hold the hand of his wife who cannot keep her “stuff” together.

For that, I’m terribly sorry.

I kept my “stuff” together in the ER. There’s that. I kept looking at this man I love, this PARTNER (because we don’t define our relationship in terms of husband and wife. We’re best friends, lovers, PARTNERS.) and I kept thinking “I don’t do so well with this role reversal stuff.” I’m usually on the gurney, he’s usually holding MY hand. And well, he’s really amazing at that. How does he keep so calm? How does he crack jokes and not look worried and not sit down in a puddle of his own snot and tears and lose it?

He will tell you he’s Danish and it’s in their natures to be stoic and solid and perfectly calm.

I will tell you he’s a rockstar.

A rockstar who is stressed out.

So, yesterday comes along (see this page, last post for details) and I faced my end. You know, the proverbial straw that breaks the camel’s back? That straw came in the form of an email break-up note and turned on the tear spigot.

I cried. I stood in the hallway and IZ, the rockstar that his is, both held me and cracked jokes to the poor plaster guy watching me come undone, about how his wife didn’t weep a tear in the ER, but is crying over the tiler. He’s keeping it all together, because he is IZ.

Because the love of my life is Danish. And he’s eating his stress. And he’s holding my hand. And he’s making everything OK for everyone.

And I love him for all that and so much more.

IZ’s beer of choice. . . which always makes me smile.

The weather has turned and I’m feeling that need to bundle up just a bit. Not ready for heavy wool jackets really, but an extra layer wouldn’t hurt. So, I ran up to the house today to grab a stack of cozy sweaters. I forgot exactly what was in my sweater stash, (Tall piles of pale neutrals) and what it smelled like (balsam sachets keep the moths at bay)  Does that happen to you? You know, put things away for a season, only to rediscover them later?  It will be like this again next year when I pull out the summer clothes. Until then, I’m breathing deeply; inhale balsam, exhale bliss. (Take a big sip of latte)

Has summer left your world yet? Have you put away your summer frocks in exchange for cozy sweaters?