Tag Archives: Buy This Thing Please

The Muse is Accustomed to Being Fired


I’ve had to let the muse go due to intense hip, back, shoulder, wrist and hand pain. No longer am I enamored of my patchwork collection, instead I am judging it wanting and a waste of time. It probably isn’t either of those things but the chronic-pain-colored glasses view it as such. Every step I took yesterday hurt my hips like a wide band across my lap, from deep in the joint to radiating outward over the muscles of my thighs. By the end of the day, of course, it was worse and I lost my composure entirely and had a sobbing fit in my bed while the husband and the dog tried to figure out what to do with me.

I suspect my emotional fragility at the moment is partly due to the above and maybe somewhat influenced by hormones (O, perimenopause, you wretched, wretched bitch). While I cavalierly said I didn’t care if I was once again making a collection of things no one would buy, today I DO care about this and perused my Etsy shop just to make myself feel worse. I don’t know why I cling to Etsy when I haven’t the time to devote to keeping it up. It’s the excuse for my thrifting addiction, “I can sell it on Etsy” but no, no I can’t, not consistently. There are times, like today, when I feel like my constant making of things is foolish and sad since rarely do I have an answer to “What will you do with this?” or “Who would buy this?” Earlier this week I was content to simply be creating, happy to be in the process and satisfied by the process and the products. But the process that makes me so happy and satisfied is the same process that means I was in bed crying at 8:00 pm due to pain.

The Shrink and I are working very hard on being in the Now, since that’s the only thing we have any control over. Last night, eyes leaking, my brain kept saying, “Okay, so this is the Now but the Now is horrible and what if it’s the new forever (no, no, forgive yourself for that and go back to now) Now sucks, Now is awful!” Or, as my husband finally put it (canceling out hours of mental looping and self-criticism) “Today’s just a bad day.” Yes. And I have to learn not to then tack on, “And what if tomorrow is, too? Or worse?” Because I don’t know that, and I can’t determine that until tomorrow becomes the Now. It’s a bit of a rabbit hole.

So today is slightly better so far except that I feel like a giant, potentially leaky vessel of tears. I have a massage and maybe that will ease some of the pain. Maybe I will look at my last assemblage of pieces and find it more favorable than I did yesterday. Maybe tonight will not be a night wherein I find myself freaked out about not having pain drugs, sobbing into the dog’s neck and panicking about the future. A future in which I will possibly drown in clothes, fabric, and partially finished quilts.

Collecting. No, Seriously, Hoarding.


I collect a lot of things. Ball pitchers, vintage clothes, vintages shoes, mannequins, tea cups, creamers, buttons, vintage aprons, 50s tablecloths….A lot of things.

The other day I violated several of my restrictions and got a stepladder and hauled down a bin of mystery things. In there I found the rest of my vintage aprons and a very large number of vintage handkerchiefs. They have been in a box for over three years, which means I don’t guess I have a lot of plans for them. Thus, it’s probably time to liquidate it down to only the very most fabulous.

I started today with the white handkerchiefs:

This set of seven. 

These two lovelies. 

Virginal white-on-whites.

The hardest to part with. 

I am really trying to manage this Etsy business better, but the key thing is that stuff needs to sell. Gotta get that part moving.

Allowing Myself to Create


I don’t know about you, but when I was a kid I often felt squelched in my artistic pursuits. Like, the time we had watched some TV show about Scotland and they made blood pudding, and I later drew a sheep with a hole in it and blood squirting out (I suddenly dearly wish I had never gotten rid of that drawing) and a parent shrieked, “WHAT ARE YOU DRAWING?” Or doing a sort of Jackson Pollack free-form thing in crayon in school only to be told, sternly, that it was not “a pattern” (that teacher was wrong, it wasn’t a repetitive pattern, but in third grade one doesn’t know that).

I kind of got trained that “playing” and “making art” were not compatible activities, so I started to take my art REALLY SERIOUSLY and sometimes, even, I took it so seriously that I wouldn’t do any work for oh, a year or two. SERIOUSLY SERIOUS, was I.

Lately, at this advanced developmental stage of 44 years old, I’ve been trying to just “fool around” a little in the studio. Mess about. Today, that resulted in this necklace, which came about as I dismantled a shrug I’d made several years ago that was too “something” to sell here. It was fun, and organic, and I actually like and would wear the result. I might even make more of them just for, well, just for FUN.

Neck Experiment 1 Neck Experiment 2