I Don't Do New Year's Resolutions!

Good lord, why in the world would I?  I have enough opportunities for guilt on any given day, let alone making a special occasion of it.  Besides, it feels more like a set-up for failure than a motivator.  That's my opinion, of course, and you are completely free to agree, disagree, or be indifferent with it.  To it.  Whatever the correct grammar is.  (I like my sentences fragmented, thank you very much.) However, I happen to be in the mood for positive changes in regards to my life and artistic endeavors, so I'll float a couple of minimally stressful intentions (slash resolutions).


I will find a workspace in this house and actually set it up to work/play. So far I have used the holidays and settling into a new apartment to put off dealing with this problem, but now that Thanksgiving and Christmas are both over, and my kitchen and living room are pretty much functional rooms, I no longer have an excuse.  I have set up a desk in my husband's office with my printer on it, but I have my laptop here at the kitchen table; I have yet to actually go into the office to try it out there.  Why?  Doesn't matter, I could give you a hundred different reasons, none of them really good enough to explain it.  Time for action.  My work table for my artwork/sewing/felting/etc. is a 5-foot conference table in my bedroom.  At the moment it is covered with boxes, clothing, fabric, a shelf unit, and various other items.  I resolve to have it cleared off and functional by the weekend.  And probably sooner.  Strike while the iron is hot and all that.  


I will go find some inspirational stuff from the web to share here and take inspiration from myself.  


Last but not least, I am going to come out of my turtle shell and post a picture of myself with my profile on Etsy, Facebook, and here.  I am really phobic about having my picture taken, so this has taken me a long time to scrape together enough fortitude to do it, but I think I'm ready.  We'll see, won't we?


Just remember, these are NOT New Year's resolutions.  Hehe.  :-}

EEK! Time flies, and moving day is coming!

Just a fast "drive-by" to declare I am still alive and kicking.  I miss checking out my favorite blogs!  I miss hearing from followers and hope you guys don't give up on me, 'cause I am coming back, I swear.  We are moving on October 26, and will be taking small stuff and boxes to the new apartment over the next week or so till that day comes.  There is so much to do still.  I am still packing, and weeding out stuff as I pack.  After the move there will be getting Girlchild registered for a new school and other details.  She will be changing schools for the first time ever, and leaving her friends behind is very hard for her, to say the least.

On the up side, her mother, brother, and stepfather will be moving into the same complex next month.  Their building isn't quite finished yet.  Can't wait to be able to see my daughter and grandson much more often.  And son-in-law too, of course.  

Today we signed lease and got keys.  Tomorrow starts the big push.  I will be so frantic for the next couple of weeks that I don't expect to be able to post again till after the first week of November, so happy Halloween everyone!  I made one needlefelted skelly, sugar skull style, and then had to put art projects on the back burner (or rather, in boxes!  LOL!).  Oh well, next year Halloween will come again, and I'll be ready!

Phew.  Anyone got any extra energy? See y'all soon.

Have I mentioned I hate moving?

Seems every time I think I'm going to be able to stay put, something happens that forces me to take stock of our living arrangements and start packing.  Usually it's about the environment: too noisy, too small, lousy/noisy/weird neighbors.  Sometimes it's about how much it costs, either due to a rent increase or our income has decreased.  My husband is a freelance writer, so at times when the markets change, like these days, for instance, the writing assignments can drop off.  This time, it's several of the above factors: we recently got a new neighbor in the other side of the duplex we live in, and we are flat out just NOT compatible.  She's noisy, busy, has many visitors, keeps late hours, and if she has a building project (which seems to happen fairly often), she doesn't really care if we're tired of hearing hammering go on after 9 or 10 at night.  Our landlord doesn't seem inclined to enforce the noise rules in the lease, so...what's a family to do?  In addition, work is low, the rent is very high (it's a grand a month), and not particularly conveniently located.  But the last straw really was the electric fence that the landlord saw fit to put around the perimeter of a small plot of trees he's decided to grow for sale, just to keep the deer out...and failed to put a warning sign on the damn thing.  Hubby and Girlchild were out taking a walk around the grounds last week and she accidently touched the fence...and ZAP.  Surprise, surprise.  I emailed the LL about it and he didn't even have the decency to reply, much less apologize!  I was, and am still, completely dumbfounded at the audacity of his lack of forethought.  We aren't the only folks here with children, either.  One has to wonder whether he'd like a nasty little lawsuit if a child gets hurt on his silly fence; and for that matter, there are MUCH more low-tech, people-friendly ways to keep a few deer from munching on his precious seedlings, not to mention cheaper alternatives.  Evidently LL doesn't have the brains the good lord gave a slug.  Or doesn't give a damn.  

Whichever it is, we are moving.  As luck will have it, we got a chance to rent a place in a brand-new apartment complex that is for low to low-middle income families, and we just heard today that it's 99.9% sure that we have gotten in...with a 3 bedroom townhouse for $400 LESS a month than we are currently paying.  With central air conditioning and plenty of storage and good-sized, well-organized rooms, all new energy efficient appliances, off-street parking, and lots of other amenities.  Needless to say, we are thrilled...and now I have to pack up and get moved in about 3 weeks!  Oy.  

Interesting fact about me: I've moved more than 50 (yes, that's right, 50!) times in my life.  Many of these times were during my childhood, but a good many were during my adulthood too.  I have come to positively despise the whole process of moving.  Even thinking about it gives me a headache.  Makes me tired.  Yet...here we (must)go again.  The one thing that will make it bearable is that it is an improvement from where we are in terms of rent, and oh YEAH, my daughter and son-in-law and grandson are going to be living in the same complex!  Yay!  I don't get to see nearly enough of them as we currently live on opposite sides of the county and have to drive quite a ways to visit.  My little grandson is 17 months old and growing up so fast, and I'm glad I'm going to be able to visit with him more, plus my daughter and I are pretty close.  Plus Girlchild will get to see her mother more this way too.  Everything seems to have fallen right into place, but I am keeping my fingers crossed that everything keeps on moving along positively.  I won't feel "safe" until we've signed the lease.  

It's late now and I am dropping in my tracks, so I will add more in a couple of days.  

Nightowl zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....

Never clean a soupcan lid with your bare hands!

One would think by this age, I'd have a lick of sense.  And I usually do.  Just not today.

Fixing supper, I opened a soup can, one of those pull-top types, and as I always do, I took it to the kitchen sink to rinse it off before putting it in the recycling.  Something I've done hundreds of times without incident.  Ordinarily I use a sponge or brush to clean off the food, but I stupidly decided to use my bare hand to help things along.  WRONG.  Don't you know I cut the crap out of my index finger on my right hand, and bled like a stuck pig all over the place.  Scared myself silly.  I'm not afraid to see blood, but it came out so FAST.  Sheesh.  I even thought I might have to have my husband drive me to the ER for stitches, but I did manage to get the bleeding stopped, and I think I'm going to live.  Here's a funny aside: my DH cannot!!! handle seeing blood, his or anyone else's, so I had to bandage myself so that he wouldn't see me bleeding all over and pass out, which is something he's done a few times (don't tell him I told ya! he really doesn't think it's very *ahem* masculine to fall on the floor in a crisis, poor guy;).  


Lordy, lordy.  Can't do dishes for a few days (OH DARN!) or do much in the way of artwork or stitching or needlefelting or nuffin!  So I went to the library and got 4 books to read so I won't go nuts or watch too much TV.  Sigh.  Tomorrow's a busy busy day, too, so I think I'm going to hit the sack and catch some Zs.  


So much for catching up!  Oh well.  Could be worse.  Have a great day tomorrow folks. 

WIPs Pics

Here are some pics of things I've been working on, some to be listed on etsy.

Green Circles

 

Green Circles detail

 
 

Green Circles detail

 

JOY!

(we can all use some of this!:)

 

Lavender neckpiece WIP

made of wool, needlefelted by machine

 
 

Needlefelted Leaf: I am planning to embroider and/or bead it for a brooch.

 
 

Back of leaf: it's subtle, but I like this side too.

 
 

Purple Tree

 
 

detail

 
 

Red Tree
 

detail of red tree

These are some of the works I have been putting finishing details on...backings and hanging loops, mostly.  Now that I look at them again, I'm pretty proud of them!  What do you guys think?

Gotta go for now, I want to get some etsy listings done today.  

Peace xoxo 

Finding creative spark when the fire's burning low

I've been feeling just a tad stretched thin lately.  I'm sure everyone has these times, when you have to dig deep in the bottom corners of your inspiration pockets to come up with something to just keep putting one foot in front of the other.  I've also been doing a lot of thinking about what's important to me to pursue and what I can dispose of to make way for new "inventions."  Have I mentioned I'm a bit of a packrat?  I'll be willing to lay money that there's a few more like me out there, and you know who you are;)  

Believe it or not, about a week ago I got rid of a pile of bottle caps I've been saving for mosaic.  Now this may not seem like a big deal, and in the overall scheme of things it's not, except that it's the first time in a long time that I have given up on pursuing something artistic or crafty.  And I mean a long time.  So it was something of a minor victory for me, in a couple of ways.

I don't believe in spilling my guts all the time, that gets old and can become an end in and of itself, and I like to think I can find better things to do with my time.  Plus I hate to be a whiner.  However, I can honestly say I have been through some real intense crap in my life, ever since I was born, and I kid you not.  Alcoholism in the family, child abuse and neglect, a marriage that turned abusive, divorce, and some pretty screwed up emotional issues, not only in myself, but also in my kids.  Domestic violence does a huge number on the heads of women and children, and it takes a long hard climb to get up and face the world coming out of such a marriage.  Years and years of problems and therapy and problems.  Big ugly scars.  Recovery is possible, and I'm happy and proud to say that I am recovering (still) and so are my kids, all grown now, but it does take work.

Anyway, one theme that has always been part of my life is poverty.  I didn't realize, as a very young child, that we were poor.  My parents never let on to that, although to be fair, they were a little busy with all the other things going on and going wrong in the family.  Appearances were kept up.  There were standards, customs...manners.  In many ways we grew up very much like other kids; we went to church (if not very often); education was important, especially since my parents, both older than most of my friends' parents, had not been able to finish school in their youths.  They had both survived the Great Depression and wanted us to graduate from high school, and I know my mother wanted me to go to college.  But underneath the facade of being a normal American family in the fifties, sixties, and seventies was the fact of a chronic lack of money.  I didn't know it when I was little, but looking back through the lens of life experience, I can see that things were hard.  We always ate, and we had clothes, and had a car.  I'm thankful my parents were able to at least give us that, in spite of all the things they did wrong to us.  

Poverty has different effects on different people.  When my father died just before I turned thirteen, my mother must have been terrified about the family finances.  She was left alone with three daughters at home, the youngest severely mentally handicapped.  My father had been the one that stayed home and took care of the house and kids for a number of years, while my mother worked.  Now she had to quit her job, and apply for Social Security for survivors (my father was disabled and on SS before his death).  And we were on welfare, although I never knew that until much later when I was grown.  But somehow she kept it together for us and we still had food, shelter, clothing, and some money leftover for some of the niceties of life.  My mother tended to spend first and make plans later.  Never once did she share the burden with us, which cut both ways: she did it to protect us, I know, but I never learned how to handle money before I grew up.  I went out on my own without a clue how to balance a checkbook, how much living was going to cost me, nothing.  I was lucky in that in those times, it was possible to get a factory job at minimum wage (which in 1973 was $2.00 an hour!), and be able to afford to live, pay rent, and eat.  Try that now.  Not gonna happen.  But anyway, I didn't begin to feel the pinch of poverty until...I got pregnant, got dumped by my boyfriend, and wound up on welfare.  From that time to this, poverty has been my constant companion and worry.  

Poverty gets into your mind.  It's like a parasite that you don't necessarily know you have; it affects you in ways you don't perceive or ways you can hide - from yourself as well as other people.  Poverty causes shame, and shame can cause people to do many things they wouldn't want to do, and wouldn't have to do if they had adequate funds to keep the wolf from the door.  I have been barring the wolf from my door for a long, long time now.  Anyone besides me watching the TV show "Hoarders"?  Well, poverty is often the demon that drives hoarders to hoard.  Not always, but often.  You want to gather up what you can when you can, in order to have enough when cash runs low or out.  For some folks, like my mom, this is expressed in poor spending decisions.  In other people, that urge, that thrifty, frugal character trait, just gets kicked into high gear, gets perverted.  Of course, there is a lot more to the hoarding disorder, but I can definitely see how it can get started.

I did say I'm a packrat, didn't I?  Well, I am, though I am not a hoarder, thank goodness.  But over the past dozen or so years, maybe even further, I've collected a whole lotta stuff for my artistic urges.  Mostly it started with my interest in sewing, which I learned when I was a young teen sewing my own clothes with my big sister's help, on our old treadle Singer.  I don't know how old it was, but I know it was always in our house as long as I can remember.  I even remember putting the needle through my finger when I was a tiny child of maybe two years old.  Boy was I scared!  I don't know what scared me more, the blood or my mother discovering what I was up to!  So I've had a long love affair with fabric.  I love the colors, patterns, textures.  There is something seductive about a bolt of uncut cloth, such possibilities!  And when I was grown, I got into making quilts in the early eighties, so I had an excuse!  I bought fabric.  I kept all my scraps, no matter how tiny.  I "inherited" fabric other people were getting rid of.  I still have some of that fabric, going back even into the late seventies.  What can I say?  It's like paint to a painter.  Oh dear...did I mention I also have paint?  At least fifty bottles of craft paints, probably more.  Plus oil pastels, chalk pastels, markers, pens, pencils, brushes, etc.  Sketchbooks.  Construction paper.  Scrapbooking paper.  

And then there are the calenders...I buy beautiful calenders because they make me happy.  Every month a new work of art, or photograph of gorgeous natural scenery.  However, I have a difficult time giving them up when it's time to hang a new one.  There are some great works of art in there!  Plus often I've kept records of events that occurred during the year, such as when we got the first snow, saw the first flock of geese returning in the spring or leaving in the fall, when the crocuses first popped through the soil in spring.  Last year I recorded a rare event that I may never have again: I saw an indigo bunting, a male, at my bird feeder one day; if you've ever seen one, you'll know why I was so excited.  They are absolutely breathtakingly beautiful, truly indigo in color, and they are getting more rare.  I had never seen one before, and I don't think I'm likely to again, so it was something to record.  Thus I don't throw calenders away.  I always have good intentions of cutting them up and matting and/or framing the pictures for my walls...yet I haven't done that.  I probably have at least ten packed away.  (never mind that I don't have a clue where, mind you)

There are the kids' outgrown clothes - the special items - that I've hung onto for sentimental reasons.  Baby gowns that they wore.  Tiny shoes.  A raincoat or some overalls from their toddlerhoods.  Now that they are all grown, I've been giving these things to them, but for a long time they were just packed in boxes that I never seem to have an attic to store them in.  I've moved a lot in my life, and some of the boxes I have now have been moved multiple times and go back some thirty years.

I have bought a ton of yarn over the years.  There must be a couple of well-packed cartons of that hanging around my closet.  I used to crochet a lot; now it's a sometime thing at best, but I have trouble getting rid of the yarn because you never know when the urge will hit and I wouldn't want to be caught unprepared!  I have a huge box of sewing patterns, some brand new, never used or cut, and many of them vintage.  Hell, some of the fashions are back!  I might want to make a caftan or a peasant blouse, or a tunic with bell sleeves, you know?  I'll be ready for the next fashion trend for sure.  

Glue.  Glitter.  Pompoms. Popsicle sticks - I bought a box of a thousand back in 1985 and I have yet to use them up.  LOL!  Lace.  Trims.  Buttons.  And then there are the BEADS...

I could literally open a bead store.  I am not lying.  I can't even buy any more beads because I already have pretty much everything out there.  Glass beads, mostly.  Vintage and new.  Hanks and hanks of seedbeads.  Swarovski crystals.  Lampwork beads.  Czech pressed glass.  Indian beads.  Big beads.  Small beads.  I once bought 50 pounds of beads in one fell swoop - yes I did!  I could bead everything I own and still have beads leftover.  I have so many I can't even have them all available to work with, because of the sheer overwhelming quantity of them that are still packed in boxes from my last move.  Have you ever moved a box of glass beads?  They are HEAVY.  

Tools, sewing machines, and a felting machine.  Polymer clay, a pasta machine for polymer clay, and a toaster oven for baking it.  Wool roving in all colors of the rainbow, plus white, and wool dyes to dye it myself.  Items I've collected to recycle into art, or use to produce art (like phone books for pressing leaves!  can you believe it?)  On and on it goes.  Picture frames.  Children's books I like for the art.  Supply catalogs.  Beading magazines.  My current favorite mags, "Cloth, Paper, Scissors" and "Quilting Arts".  Anything that I find visually appealing.  I am a color junkie.  I'm constantly looking for visual stimulation, and this leads to more collecting.  

Somebody stop me, please!  

So...going back to the collection of bottle caps that I brought up way earlier in this rambling confession of my poverty-driven, anxiety-ridden excess...it was a really exhilarating feeling, putting my bottle caps in the garbage.  (our recycling center doesn't take them, sheesh)  It was oddly freeing.  I felt lightened, even though I have a lot more stuff I want to sort out and dispose of, donate, give away.  It was, in short, a big step.  You see, I feel the effects of the times of lack that I've endured, both during my childhood and my adulthood, and too often in the past I have coped with the anxiety of no cashflow (raising kids on one's own requires determination and sacrifice, and often welfare, alas) by accumulating the tools and materials of my artistic trade to excess.  But that comes with a price that has nothing to do with the cost of whatever it is:

Too much is, well, too much.  Sooner or later, you run out of room.  And you lose things, because so much is packed in boxes that you forget what you have and where the hell you put it.  Or you think you know where it is, you can picture in your mind (or so you think) where you last saw something, only to find when you go there that what you want isn't there at all.  Frantic searching ensues, often followed by a)mess-making, and b)frustration, and c)a complete brain shitstorm.  And re-purchasing something that you KNOW you own but can't find at the moment.  Only to find it next Thursday, in a different box in another closet that you could swear you haven't touched since 2007, so how in the world did you ever think you'd seen the damn thing recently anyway??? 

You get my point.  Phew.

Some of you know what I'm talking about only too well, and you know who you are.  And this brings me to my recently-acquired new philosophy of life: LESS IS MORE.  I must admit I was quite shocked when this occurred to me, but there it is.  Less is more.  Let me give you an example: less fabric is more opportunity to use it, because you don't have to search through the last three decades of accumulation to find that snippet or fat quarter or two yards of whatever gem it currently is that you just found the perfect project for (after all these years).  And another: Fewer bottles of paint to choose from means it's much more likely that half of them won't be dried up, have permanently stuck caps, or separated/settled/changed from beautiful pink to something that more closely resembles baby vomit.  Same with glues.  If I had a buck for every damn solidified bottle or tube of glue, I could go buy some more...er....glue:D  And so on and so on.  I'm sure you can come up with your own examples.  But the biggest thing of all that I am just beginning to discover is that the less stuff you have to wade through to start working on or continue a project, the more time you have to actually create.


And what in the world does this all have to do with finding one's inspiration when you're feeling tapped out?  Here it is: whatever it is that gets you going again will be right at your finger tips and you'll know where it is when you empty the pockets of your smock and find nothing but lint balls, looking for that spark.  Because the spark is there somewhere.  It would just be a shame if you burn down the studio with it because you have so much stuff.  

So, while I'm waiting for the next inspiration to present itself, I'm going to go sort out another box and see what I can give or throw away.  I'll then be able to clear not only my cluttered space but also my cluttered mind.  And that, my friends, will free my mind to fan the flames of creativity when that little spark emerges to begin making art anew.

And now it's deep in the quiet hours of the night.  My family is sleeping.  I'm getting ready to hit the sack myself.  One final thought I'll share before I go:

What the hell should I do with the dozens of used/damaged/obsolete CDs I know I have?  He he...maybe we should have a CHALLENGE...hmmm.  ;)

Night folks.  Sweet dreams. 

Nature's Eye Candy

Wow, where do the days go?  This week we're getting back into the groove of school...Girlchild began 7th grade on Tuesday.  I could sleep for a week, but that would be such a waste!  So many projects, so little time!


I thought I would share a couple of pictures I took last weekend from just outside our front door overlooking the woods just beyond the bounds of our rural townhouse complex.  We had a drenching rain, a real opening of the clouds that lasted only a few minutes, and then the sun came out.  Now we have lived here three years, and we've seen a number of rainbows...we seem to be uniquely set up for them given our wide expanse of sky from west to east.  It was late afternoon, and I knew the conditions were right, so I grabbed the camera and went outside, and just look at the intensity of the colors in this rainbow:

 

And here's a shot to show how big this puppy was:

 

I must say, this was the most spectacular rainbow I have ever seen in my life, bar none.  Not only was it unusually intense in color, it was HUGE.  The above picture was facing northeast, and the other end of this bow was all the way to due south.  And yes, we could see both ends of it, but for some odd reason all my pics were only of the left end.  But it always amazes me to see rainbows, and I must be blessed because I see them quite often, several a year.  


That's all I've got.  Still have pics to take of work and etsy listings to do.  Plus this week, I have been needle-felting skellies, inspired by Pam over at yoborobo.  That's right, Pam, it's all yer fault. :D  Pics of those tomorrow.


Night yall.

Finishing what you have, and so on

Well, the week has passed swiftly yet again, and I am beginning to contemplate starting some new projects.  I don't know what they are yet, but I'm not worried about that yet.  I still have plenty of pieces that I have yet to finish in order for them to be ready for display, photographing, selling.  I have managed to sew backings and hanging loops on 3 bead embroideries this week, and I am proud of myself for this small accomplishment.  Considering the many distractions and impediments that have thrown themselves into my path in the past few days, I'm a bit surprised that I have been able to do this much!  

Girlchild, my 12-year-old granddaughter who lives with us, is in the throes of last-week-before-school-starts boredom.  Believe me, there is no one in this house who won't be glad to see Tuesday morning come.  She has filled several sketchbooks over the summer.  Her drawing is so incredible...she draws anime characters, and I kid you not, you can't tell them from the real thing, that is the ones in publications or in productions.  I've watched her do them from scratch, and I'm blown away.  I have to start scanning them so that she can put some up in my etsy shop, to sell prints.  Here's just one:

 Pretty good, eh?  Makes me wish I had tons of money and could send her to a great art school.  I'm so proud of her!  Okay, enough gushing.  Even if it is totally justified, lol!

Tomorrow I will be taking photos of the bead embroideries I finished off this week, and then I can share them with you all.  Right now, it's past my bedtime, incredible as that sounds.  I took some antihistamines and they're kicking my butt.  

Night, yall.

Come Look! New Pretties!

I've been doing the finishing on that stack of unfinished objects (ufos) that I showed you last week, and here are the results of some of my efforts!  

And here's a closer look:

 

This pretty fish swimming among the seaweed is needle-felted with wool and hand-dyed silk fibers on a background of handmade wool felt, which I wet-felted myself.  The eye is made from sequins and a seed bead.

But wait!  There's more!

 And last but not least...

Now let's see if I can post this correctly!  LOL!  

 These are going into my Etsy shop later today.  Ta da!  I've got close-ups there also.  

I've got more from the "guilt pile"...just putting a nice finished backing on them and loops to hang them.  So I'm gonna go sew some more.  Later! :) 

The Reality of Life, or I Take On More Than I Can Handle

I have been spending a great deal of time immersing myself in a world that I've ignored far too long.  I'm talking about the fast-moving world of online business and publishing.  Back in the dark ages of the internet, I was fairly savvy.  Then I put my attention on raising a grandchild, which of course was and is way more important than keeping up with the internet world and its evolution.  Now that my granddaughter is in middle school and a bit more independent, I'm ready to take another dip in the pool, so to speak.  

Holy smokes.  

I am, to say the least, overwhelmed.  I've spent quite a bit of time over the past two weeks learning about blogging, reading lots of other people's blogs, admiring all the gadgets, backgrounds, awards, and followers they have.  I've also been creating and stocking a shop on Etsy.com with my fiber art and dolls, and trying to learn about all the tools they have to promote a shop, all the ways to connect with other sellers, what questions to ask, etc.  It's fair to say that I feel like the proverbial babe in the woods...in a distinctly middle-aged way.   

It occurs to me that I need to clearly define what it is I want to accomplish here.  In the spirit of using what I have, I want to use my talents with fiber and textiles to contribute more to my family's income.  This is especially true now that the economy has changed so radically for the worse.  Things are tight.  For a number of years, my DH has been a freelance writer, and his income has suffered in recent months; we've had some scary moments, although his markets do seem to be recovering very slowly.  This change in our cash flow has made me feel that I was resting on my laurels by not selling my work.  I have felt a certain urgency to help.  

At the same time, I no longer work outside the home because I'm unable to do so.  I do have disability income, so I am already contributing, but I feel a sense of responsibility to do more.  Trying to balance that against some very real physical limitations on my time and energy is difficult - I used to be a lot more active than I can be now, and it's hard not to throw myself into projects the same way I used to - in my mind I'm still the same woman I was then.  All too often, I set goals for myself so high that they are impossible to reach in the time and energy I have available.  I did that even before I got sick, although less often.  But all that happens when I overextend myself is that I wind up frustrated - with myself for not being able to achieve what I want when I want, leading to anger, guilt, and an inordinate amount of self-castigation.  So...

My mantra for today is going to be "use what you have" as it applies to my physical and emotional limits.  Driving myself nuts will not lead to success, by any definition.

Nightowl, over and out.

Time Flies When You Have Too Much To Do

Well this week has certainly slipped by at breakneck speed!  Thank goodness I've been wearing my seatbelt and crash helmet!  Speaking of crash helmets, did anyone else watch the new ABC show last night called "Crash Course"?  Yep, my secret's out, I'm somewhat easily amused... but it was sort of a combination of demolition derby with stock car racing.  I'm telling ya, it reminded me all too much of some of the experiences I've had on the road myself lately.  I live in (well, actually, a few miles away from) a 2-college town...Ithaca is the home of Cornell University and Ithaca College, and much of the local population is college-related and transient.  Students come from EVERYWHERE and have various driving skills, customs, habits, and styles...lordy, it's quite a challenge just going to town.  And our students are back, so the roads are filled with carloads of people who don't know where they're going nor that they are about to enter the Twilight Zone of Ithaca and its (in)famous one-way thoroughfares.  I'm sure the planners of the traffic patterns thought their blueprints were absolutely brilliant.  For chimpanzees, perhaps.  (sorry to insult a closely related species)  Those of us who live in the area are used to the psychosis-inducing jumble of pock-marked streets with one-ways, some for the entire street, some for only a certain section, some for use only between the hours of quarter to rush hour and half past hell; for the many visitors to the area, I'm sure it's very befuddling.  If not life-threatening.

I've had a stack of work waiting for me for the past three days, but before I forget, hop over to "Cart Before the Horse" and help Jo and Dylan celebrate the 200th post on their blog...in honor of this momentous occasion, Jo is doing a giveaway, so follow this link and you can add your congratulations and be entered in her giveaway simultaneously!  You will recognize her unique and whimsical pieces if you read Cloth Paper Scissors (she was featured in the Jan/Feb 2009 issue), and she has an Etsy shop as well, named, aptly enough, cartbeforethehorse.  The giveaway runs through October 1st.  Congratulations, Jo, from a new follower who plans to visit often. :)

Now about the stack of work that is waiting: let me begin by saying I am a "process" person.  For me, it's all about the journey; the destination is secondary and often not even on my radar.  This translates into pieces that I've finished the "art" part of the work, but it needs something more to move from UFO to saleable/giveable/hangable art.  At times, I am very prolific, so I tend to have a LOT of UFOs.  This is the pile to which I am currently alluding:

 

"Bubble Fish"

These are bead embroidered pieces on handmade wool felt that are all done EXCEPT they need a backer and/or a hanger to be finished.  I keep hoping that elves or fairies will visit me in the night whilst I'm sleeping, but so far, no luck.   Maybe the wee folk are on strike.  It appears that I am on my own, so I have vowed to get these finished off and listed in my Etsy shop (The Beadfelter's Bag) by the end of the coming weekend.  

I am also working on this blog and will be making the rounds of my favorite blogs to hopefully round up some readers/friends/followers (i hope i hope!) cuz it's berry berry lonely without friends!  

Okay, enough of shameless self-promotion for now.  :D  If you've come by, leave a comment please!  I very much look forward to hearing what you think.  About most anything!  He he he :)

Today we (DH, girlchild, & me) went to our local antique mall, just a short drive down the road from our house, and spent a very pleasant couple of hours browsing.  It's funny, so many of the "antiques" there were things I recognize from my childhood!  OMG, I must be an antique too!  Strangely, I don't find that too disturbing.  Girlchild and I spent quite a bit of time going through the vintage clothing, especially hats.  She is into hats big time, and for a paltry 5 bucks she left with a cute little white fur hat and she was THRILLED.  She will feel so special wearing her pretty fur hat this winter...she is very into the Gothic Lolita look that is very popular in Japan, in fact she would love to go to Japan and work for Tokyo Pop someday.  At age 12, she is something.  Really something.  I'm proud of her.

I left with a little doily for $4.00.  It has a significant stain that I didn't notice so much till I got it home, but that doesn't diminish its humble charm one little bit, as far as I'm concerned.  It looks to me that it's hand-tatted by someone, and that is worthy of my respect.  Besides, I bought it to put bits of it into artwork, and it will serve nicely for that.  Here it is:

 

  

I've been saving all kinds of velvet, velveteen, and velour clothing over the years from Girlchild's outgrown clothing, and something in that pile is going to call me, I know it.  So my little doily was a good find.

Time for sleep.  I'm behind in my reading, since the latest issue of Cloth Paper Scissors arrived in the mail 2 days ago.  I can barely sleep after I read it!  My head will be so full of ideas it'll be hard to drop off...but try I must.  

Night, yall.

Nightowl On Board

The scene: the living room of a quiet house, everyone asleep but me.  My favorite time of day.  Tommy Petty and the Heartbreakers hits playing.  I have one window open, a blessing of cool air coming in, following a number of hot, humid nights when the AC was a necessity. 

I've been piddling around trying to define what it is I want to do with myself: artistically, life-wise, in writing.  I've been floundering around lately.  I keep coming back to one theme in all of those areas: living a simple life in a sustainable way.  Making art from what I already have on hand or from recycled/reclaimed materials.  Writing about things I know, things I'm passionate about, things that interest me.  Oh, and one other thing: laughing.  Laughing at life's absurdities.  Laughing at myself.  Laughing about the things we all come across every day that are just plain funny or ridiculous, whimsical, or that tickle our funny bones for whatever reason.  Because if I can't laugh at something, then I've lost my perspective and my compass.  God likes humor.  Really. 

So I think I've got something here that will give me a jumping off place for my art and writing and just possibly keep me sane.  Although I'm not entirely committed to that sane thing.  HEHE.

Nightowl out.  Sleep tight, yall.