confessions of a dog person ...

I have a confession to make.

I do not really like cats.

I think this is true of all dog people.

I trace this uncomfortableness with four legged felines

(I am oddly not bothered by three legged cats, probably because I haven't met one yet)

back to the many cats my family raised while I was growing up who were

1. totally neurotic
2. totally destructive and
3. totally determined to BITE

(hubs and I once had a cat named Snowy who got out and got herself so high up a tree that we had to literally dislocate our necks or lay flat on the ground to see her. My daily pleadings with the fire department went on for 22 days

-they said she would come down when she was hungry - she didn't-

before they finally agreed to come over with their ladder truck. It took the firemen an hour to close my street and set up their ladder and then about 30 seconds to drop Snowy the 120 feet to the ground when she tried to scratch the fireman's eyes out.

Luckily she landed in some bushes. Unluckily she ran off and was not seen for another 22 days while I scoured the neighborhood nightly with my daughter, banging on cans of cat food with our spoons and calling her name.

One night we returned home to find her on the front porch calmly licking her front paws. She ran into the house and proceeded to down 6 cans of Fancy Feast

-my guilt over my role in her near death experience making me buy her the "good stuff" while she was missing-

in about 22 seconds, poop the entire 6 pack into her litter box and settle onto my lap to be petted and fawned over and then attempt to bite me)

But when my brother and sister in law asked me to care for their zoo 5 cats and 2 birds while they went on vacation this week I didn't hesitate because

1. they never go on vacation and really needed to get away and

2. they smartly asked me very late on a Saturday night hoping for an Absolut-soaked bad decision on my part

Anyhoo when I began my twice daily trips to their house, I arrived to find some rather complicated laminated "instructions"

including which pets listen to which radio stations, which are allergic to which foods, whose plates are whose, peanuts to be thrown under one tree for the squirrels (and oh yes, there is a family of squirrels in the attic), birdseed to be thrown under another tree for the robins, where which cat would most likely be hiding

(they are somehow under the delusion that I am going to stick my hands under a bed to remove a cat, somehow forgetting that I might need to end the week with all fingers still intact)

who gets petted under the chin and who on the head, etc, etc, etc
And the instructions for the cockatiels are even more precise and intimidating.

The birds have their own room and obviously it is very, very important that the cats (who live for an opportunity to put one over on an unsuspecting babysitter)
DO NOT GET INTO THIS ROOM.

Also there is such a thing as nightflight where the birds could throw themselves around their cages and die if the cats scare them

by doing something like banging on the door for example which seems to me rather likely to happen given the fact that it seems to be their life work to get into this room

(I have multiple cats at my feet when I try to slip in there - I have to fight the urge to punt them like fuzzy soccer balls)

so I have been up all night imagining the horrors that could be going on over there when I leave the little killers cuddly kitties alone in the same house with those poor birds.

I have 4 days to go before they return -

everyone please keep their fingers crossed for me that I make it through with 5 cats and 2 birds living to tell the tale (although I may have to bribe them to keep quiet about what is actually going on with the instructions sheets)

and 3 days before I delete this post.

how to not put people to sleep (unless they are under four feet tall and have gotten on our last nerve)

Very few people will like our best, most amazing work - the work that makes our hearts sing, the work we are being called to do,

the stuff that will not get done unless we do it

but the more we try to adapt our work to suit a larger audience, a more generic crowd,

the kind of people who will nod and smile at our stuff because it fits their idea of what stuff is supposed to look like

the more we water ourselves down for that - well the more ordinary our work is likely to become.

(Zzzzz - cue the caffeine please)

We will not have anyone who hates what we make, but we will not have anyone who would kill to get their hands on it either.

(yes, we want customers who are wild eyed rabid for our makings - peeps with itchy trigger fingers, hopefully poised on the $45 in their wallets and not an actual 45 - peeps who will tell 2 friends who will tell 2 friends and so on and so on and so on - free locket to the first person who emails me where the hell that tells 2 friends thing is from it is driving me crazy)

Think of crocs

(the shoes not the amphibian/reptile? - my brain has somehow lost access to the animal classifications we learned in 3rd grade, actually my brain has lost access to alot of things these days - I am trying not to let this worry me although every time I start to worry about things I have forgotten I then forget to worry so it is all working out very nicely for me)

they are the butt ugliest things on the planet, but fans are totally rabid for them - entire jewelry lines have been created to bedazzle them for pete's sake..

No one who first saw these things was thinking "Hmm, I like these shoes."

We were either thinking they were the stupidest things we had ever seen or they were freakin' genius and we had to have them and if we were thinking that - we bought them.

Now we probably can't be so specialized that we appeal only to eco friendly gardeners who grow zinnias in Nebraska (do zinnias grow in Nebraska?), but we have the whole wide world to market to now and eco friendly gardeners who grow zinnias sounds about right to me for the size of a marketplace we can RULE.

Many years ago I bought an industrial embroidery machine

(later I bought another one and I still have these 2 gigundo machines in our extra bedroom - they come in handy for overnight guests who want to add some monogramming to their bathrobes during their visit)

it was at a time when they had become sort of affordable

(with an emphasis on 'sort of' - this business was mostly a giant money suck for me - I will have to post about that sometime)

and numerous people were getting into machine embroidery. I met alot of people during my time involved in that industry and I can tell you that everyone I know from those days who is still doing it specialized in their best, most amazing work.

The girl who only embroiders baby bibs that she makes (and has 3 babies), the couple who go to horse shows and only do that (they have 2 of their own so know what horse people need), the guy who only does vintage car enthusiast caps (and of course he has a vintage car, too) - well, they are all still stitchin' away.

All the people who thought that more is more and tried to do everything for everybody is gone, closed sign in the window, outta business, machines gathering dust and rust in their spare bedroom .... (ugh).

The stuff we are called to make - the stuff that makes our heart sing - the stuff that keeps us up at night - the stuff that won't get made unless we make it is probably very, very specific stuff.

This is the stuff that has grown from our own life story

We just can't deliver our most powerful work when we try to appeal to everyone (cue the politicians in on this one) - we will only succeed in putting our audience to sleep - and unless that audience has been driving us nuts all day and is currently wearing footed pajama bottoms - this is probably not a good thing.

* be yourself print - art by erin leigh

repurposing vintage finds - we really don't need those colorful whoseewhatsees from Target

Just a quick post today while I finish up some orders and family stuff this week

(is family stuff ever finished ...)

before I get back on track next week with a SUPER cool giveaway and a new marketing series for makers.

I took some pics around my house of some easy-peasy repurposed vintage goodies. The key to being able to flea market is to use the stuff you can't live without.

1. Vintage sifters make great silverware caddies - I have these out all the time, although it may not be practical for everyone - they would be great for parties.

2. Gumball machine turned dog treat holder - Olive comes running from anywhere within a 2 mile radius when she hears the handle turn - it is also a great way to get her to do some work around the house since we charge her in nickels

3. Grater turned magnet board - perfect for recipes - if you would like one of these adorable magnets just pop me an email - I have a few left over from a party I would be happy to send one your way for free

4. Birdbath turned bathroom/dressing room caddy - perfect for appliances, towels, soaps, etc

My other tip is my stop at 3 rule - which means my collecting must stop when I get to 3 pieces - so I do not end up on Hoarders until I am really ready to be there

(ie glassy eyed expression, chin hair, knee stockings, pissed off children)

I am about 75% there this week .... still need those knee stockings.

the journey of energy into matter ...

I have always been surrounded by big dreamers - people who think big

(and sometimes this thinking big results in the kind of craziness that has someone proclaiming that they invented Facebook because they said to their college roommates in 1987 that there should be a way to keep track of who is single and who is dating - electronically)

but maybe don't always take action.

I have never found the expression 'the well planned job is half done' to be ... well, true actually.

There is a whole lot of space between the timeless buzz of a dream and the time-filling demands of actually giving birth to it.

Because the action part - the journey of thought to form, the journey of energy into matter - no matter how many affirmations are said and positive thoughts are thought

(and I know these things do help with our intention and focus ie attention, but have never actually gotten anyone off the couch)

is pretty much the key to the whole thing - nothing actually happens until well, until something actually happens.

Anyhoo, our saga with David for anyone who has been following it at all closed a chapter a few weeks ago when he went awol, relapsed, got violent in a social setting he should have never ended up in and landed himself in jail.

He is probably going to get out next week, still untreated by anti-psychotic meds for his schizophrenia and looking to come back to our house.

(or maybe just looking for us to say he can come back to our house so he can get out of jail - it is hard to say and there is no lasting truth here anyway since the disease outruns any chance of finding it)

But our house isn't the same place he left. The windows are still peeling and the stairs still squeak, but being inhabited this summer by one person broken open and one person closed down from the experiences of the last six months doesn't create a whole lot of healing energy for anyone else - so much has been expended without an equal amount of anything coming in that things have become unbalanced.

(when I first started meditating again after a long lapse, I noticed that although I could exhale for what seemed like hours, my inhalations could never keep up - a sure sign from our bodies that we are putting out more than we are taking in)

And the dream work - the turning energy into matter - part of our journey has become as splintered as David.


* was it all a dream print by joy st. claire