Best of Etsy
So, I finally scored a treasury on etsy. Go click and make me famous. Pretty please?
Salt With That?
It’s Saturday and I should be doing something instead of sitting here cruising Etsy. But I’ve got words all jumbled up in my head. Knots and knots of words refusing to come unloose, no matter how I pick and pry at the individual threads. I’m not trying all that hard to unravel this mess, either. There just isn’t any meaning to be made tonight.
It’s a diversion tactic; as a way of distracting myself, I mindlessly flip through pages upon pages of vintage items. We’ll just ignore the fact that I’ve been neglecting my own store front. Yeah, add that to my word problem. “Things to do! Things to do!” blares through some mental megaphone in my head. I not only own property in Denial, I’m the town’s mayor—click, click, click.
Problems can be self-sufficient. And persistent. And mind-numbingly tedious. They also tend to solve themselves when you step away. Or, at least when you find some perspective. But perspective can take time and distance; commodities in short supply at present. What perspective is to be had on the reality that my etsy store is deplete of merchandise and I’m ambivalent about that, is beyond me. The word problem is more complex.
I don’t enjoy writing posts like the one I posted to Anonymous. As a rule, I ignore that garbage; it’s in the town’s charter. As mayor of Denial, I have a civic duty to uphold. However, sometimes you have no choice but to look the bully in the face and say, “Boo!” And now that I have, I’m not all that energized to untangle the words that are jumbled up in my head tonight. I fear, if I start writing on words like “Responsibility” and “Forgiveness” and “Grace” that I will be preaching to the choir. I fear the words that have held my anger and frustration will come pouring out, that I will not be able to stem the tide. I fear I won’t want to stem the tide. I fear I will write a book in the process. I already use far too many words.
I’m pretty sure if I start, I won’t get past the word “Responsibility” to tell you that grace is not cheap. Or that there is no point seeking “Forgiveness” in private for transgressions committed in public. I know I won’t make it to “Grace”.
So, here I sit tonight. Click, click, clicking through countless pages of vintage. Avoiding making meaning. Using more words than necessary to tell you, well, nothing. And pitching my competition to boot. There’s a reason I was elected Mayor.
And you know, I don’t even like salt.
Lessons From the Universe
Happy St. Patrick’s Day! I still haven’t wrapped my brain around the idea that this is Holy Week, what with the holiday and all. I keep expecting to have more time. I woke up with a start this morning, “Oh no, I forgot to leave out the loot!” The Leprechaun is no longer a mystery in our home, but tradition is tradition. And as you have probably already gathered, we’re big on tradition around here. Needless to say, I did some scrambling before I dashed out the door for a meeting.
Holy week brings a great deal of activity on its own; having St. Patrick’s on top of it has sunk my questionable game low enough that I handed the boy his treat and gave him a hug without any pretense of magic. For his part, he didn’t build a trap this year either. We’ve moved on a bit, I guess. It’s bittersweet. But the day isn’t over and there is still magic to be had.
I tell you, I’m not liking all these major holidays squished together. Seems like it was just St. Valentine’s a month ago and now, Easter on Sunday? Bah. It has me running and I tend to get forgetful at this pace. Which is why I even forgot to mention, last Friday, that I was planning to take Holy Week off. However, I’m glad I forgot, because it gives me a chance to say a few things before I leave for the week.
I have say, the biggest reward of blogging is the amazing relationships I’ve established with some you. So much happens “off-line” via email and phone calls—and it’s provided an opportunity to dig deeper than the comment section allows. I’ve really enjoyed the process. While I expect you all to be creative and generous souls, because you are, I am always so touched by your generosity.
Friday, we came home to a HUGE box we weren’t expecting. And you know, good things come in small packages, but boxes rarely contain bad news! If you’re not expecting it, I think it might be even better. Who doesn’t love a sweet surprise?
Inside, was ball after ball of color! Wendee Shulsen of Hazel Knits, had sent the boy a treasure trove of yarn. I would be remiss to not point out how soft and truly lovely this yarn is! It makes a girl want to learn to knit. Included with all the color, came the most amazing card (that we read to Grammie and Poppie on the phone, Wendee!!) describing Wendee’s process of selecting and dying yarns for Hazel Knits.
Now, I’ve had the chance to get to know Wendee through email over the past few months. And I have discovered her to be a giving and thoughtful soul. But this box was just so. . . special. What Wendee didn’t know, was she spoke magical words to the boy. Words about “trial and error” and “making mistakes” and seeing her work as an “invention”. These are all lessons that, as a parent, I take great pains to preach; especially to a child who claims “being an inventor” as his life’s goal. It’s never easy to see our mistakes and learn from them. We want instant success, right? However, owning our mistakes is part of the creative process. And we never really know where that journey will take us if we are unwilling to risk a few failures along the way. In part, these are lessons learned best by doing. Yet, having other voices speak wisdom is so helpful; especially if that other voice is kindred inventor!
So, he notices, Wendee. He does. And so does his mother. I never cease to be astounded by the beauty the Universe offers up to us on a daily basis. For the beauty that you have brought into our lives, Wendee, “THANK YOU!”
And with that, I am taking this week off… officially. I wish each of you a blessed week. I hope that it is filled with magic and hope and beauty and love. May you find rest and comfort. But most of all, may you know peace.
Remiss
These are from the lovely Kate. . . who sent so much more than these beautiful buttons. However, like all small children and cats, I’d rather play with the “box”… and these buttons, which topped my gifts, have me enraptured.
Let’s blame it on December, shall we? Because I don’t really have any excuse beyond the misery that was that month. The wind blew and strange things happened and everybody (mainly me) was a wee bit wonky. Remember??
However, December not only produced misery and weather, but it also brought bouts of generosity in the form of several impromptu swaps that I’ve yet to acknowledge. As it is nearly March, it would seem I’ve been remiss. How hard is it, really, to say “Thank you, ” I ask you? Yeah, not that hard. Bad, bad, Wende.
I am borrowing a photo from Kalurah—as I’ve allowed my pair to become frightfully dirty. I’ve used them so, so much and I’m embarrassed at how terribly neglectful I’ve been, here. I think I need a pair of these in every color.
Truth is, I’ve been meaning to write a post about the art of the “Thank You Note.” But having not finished writing mine, I feel a little disingenuous about doing so. As much as I abhor the old adage, “Those who can’t, teach.” It seems to fit in my case. And it doesn’t surprise me at all that the custom has fallen out of favor. Writing of any kind seems to be the last choice to cell phones and email or blogging! I have my personal preference, clearly, but I wouldn’t prioritize. Thank you is appropriate no matter how it’s delivered. Right? It’s the thought that counts, I think. I hope.
I don’t think I can ever have enough of Susan’s amazing work.
But there is something, admit it, to getting a piece of mail that expresses gratitude for your effort. And it IS effort to put something in the mail. We won’t even talk about the effort involved if you MADE that gift. Yes, mail that is not a bill is a gift in itself. Especially if it is not addressed, “To: Homeowner” but instead, has your name illegibly scrawled on the envelope. How can you not feel loved?
So, I have been remiss. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It means I’m lazy.
These were made by the lovely Susan, but came via a gift certificate from the ever thoughtful HG. Thank you both!
This week the boy and I have been slowly, but carefully cranking out our written thank yous. His are involved and feature embroidery from his new machine. Mine feature my chicken scratch that will no doubt be illegible. These small but well meant, if poorly timed, notes of affection are winging their way to you.
In the meantime, please accept my humblest of apologies. I’ve hot linked the photos to their respective givers. Each of them was so generous that I should have a separate post about them all. But if I do that, I’ll never get these notes finished.
Family
Now that Thrifty Goodness is over on etsy, I spend way too much time on the site. I can’t help it, the gizmo on the front page that loads the newest listings is captivating. It’s become my favorite new pastime to sit and watch those listings scroll by when listening to TV.** Consequently, my favorites list reads like a novel. Pages and pages of handmade goodness.
Mostly, my list is full of lovely jewelry and scarves and hats and all things girly and wearable. But every now and again I bump into an artist who takes me by surprise in a good way. I can’t help but gasp and then go running to wherever IZ might be, “You’ve got to see this!” computer in hand, bouncing up and down. Most recently, it’s the work of Cat Bishop that has me (and the rest of the craft community!) raving.
Of all Cat’s work, I adore this espresso family best. (although Brownie the Camera Dog would be close second if it was still available!) Nothing says family like fresh brewed java. I certainly can’t imagine a better representation of my family than a group of espresso pots, can you?
Made for me, I tell you.
**That sentence makes it sound like I only look at etsy when I’m also listening to TV… um. . . not exactly. See, I don’t watch all that much TV but sadly, the same cannot be said of etsy. The point I think I was trying to make, poorly, is “Look, I’m multi-tasking.” Or, maybe, “See, I’ve redeemed the habit of viewing TV, since I’m only listening to it!” Or something else that I’m sure you’d be happy to interpret for me.
Little Houses
These ceramic houses make me happy… I think, in part, because they remind me so much of the wee houses Boy Wonder made me last year, only sturdier. They are made by the ever fabulous Emily of Industrious Lily. I can see a whole village of these houses sitting on our tansu chest in the living room. Ok, maybe just one. But only because I’m being good.
Speaking of little houses, ours is clean and my sweetie is on his way home from Portland. All is well in our world. . . how about in yours?
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