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Phoning It In

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I admit it, I should have taken the night off last night. Apologies to all who read my blog. I really should have named this post “burning the candle at both ends”, because that is what I have been doing. We are heavily into the early stages of our business, and I signed on to do the craft show which is only three weeks away. I’ve been stressed and worried, and not sleeping well. There is also the issue of my knees. One of the wonderful side effects of all of my knee surgeries is the intense pain that decides to make an appearance in the middle of the night. It happened at about two o’clock yesterday morning. I woke feeling as though the creatures who live under the bed were taking batting practice against my right kneecap. I couldn’t get back to sleep so I wound up on the couch watching The Color Purple at 3:15 in the morning. I fell asleep about an hour into the movie, but then woke on and off until I finally gave up around 6:30. I started my day very soon after, and worked until dinner. I attempted to do an art project afterwards, but quite honestly I was done. By the time I wrote last night’s post I was seeing double. I put in another full day of fairy making today. I found myself really stressing out today, and part of that was this project. I haven’t had time to do much other art aside from stuff for the show. I was missing it. Doing something artistic every day has become a habit, and while I consider my craft work to be very artistic, it just isn’t the same. I made sure to take a little time to do something, and since we are getting closer to opening our business I decided to do something for that. We were working on the business plan today and talked about gift certificates. I made designing that my project for this evening. It may be rough for the next few weeks as I juggle starting the business, the holidays, and my project, but I’m going to do the best I can as always.

The gift certificate has our business name blocked out for the moment, (also I cropped it just a wee bit off for this post) but will be revealed soon enough.#2

Hello, I’m Brian’s Mother

As I said the other evening, I am always honest in my blog writing. Full disclosure here. The very funny remark I attributed to my son last night about glitter being the herpes of craft supplies, should actually be attributed to the very funny Jim Gaffigan. When I told my son tonight that I had quoted him in my blog he was horrified. First because he said if I had told him I was going to quote him he would have told me the line was from Mr. Gaffigan, but I think even more so because I am exposing his secret to the world. Yes, he has a mother. When Brian was a little boy he was very attached to me. So much so in fact that Dan thought Brian didn’t like him. How quickly things change. By the time he was nine Brian was distancing himself from me. How I missed those cuddles with my little boy. It was in those years that the head bob began. This was Brian’s way of allowing me to kiss him. I’m not exactly sure when he passed me in height, but as soon as he did he began the practice of bowing down just enough for me to kiss the top of his head. I had spent years doing an annual art project with Jessica’s class. Brian stopped me by the fourth grade. Things have improved in the last few years. My little boy is now a man. He still doesn’t seem to want his friends to know I exist, but he has grown a little more affectionate with me. About a year or so ago I did him a favor. I don’t even remember what. What I do remember is that when he came over to hug me in thanks, I freaked. It had been so long since he came near me I wasn’t sure what was going on, I could say so much more, but I know without a doubt that he won’t be happy with the little bit of him that I have exposed here. All in love my son

I spent my day making fairies once again, so another ghost of projects past. I took an old flatware box and gutted it. Turned it into a box for pretty writing materials for a friend. She loved it. Hopefully tomorrow I can get back to some art that is just for me.

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Finding The Right Words

There are many nights as I sit and write this blog where words fail me. I can’t quite think of exactly what I want to say, or exactly how to form the sentence to convey the point I’m trying to make. Eventually something comes to me, and for the most part I am happy with the outcome. Last night in my description of the glitter issues that confront my family I consulted a thesaurus looking for synonyms. I was trying to express just how defenseless we feel in the war against glitter. Tonight as Dan, Brian and I sat at the dinner table it became apparent that the glitter was already taking the upper hand. Each of us was sparkling. While that wasn’t surprising for either Dan or I, as we were both in the middle of the mix of my supplies all day in the dining room, but for Brian who had only passed through to be sparkling just proves my point. That’s when Brian came up with the words I was looking for last night. He called glitter the “herpes of craft supplies”. I couldn’t have said it better. I laughed at him and asked where he was last night when I needed him.

Dan as always is my extra pair of hands. He is doing all of what he calls the “grunt work”, but it is of immense help to me as I try to crank out as much work as possible. I  shouldn’t say “crank out”, I actually spend far too much time on each piece. When I stated last night that I don’t charge enough for my work I wasn’t exaggerating. I will fuss over the smallest detail, but I care so much about what I do that I can’t help myself. When it comes to pricing I agonize over it. I’m always sure that I’m charging too much…wait, not enough, but no one will pay that much, I wouldn’t pay that much, but it took me this (insert minutes) long, then there is “There’s always a kid with $5 , I need to have something they could buy”.  Years ago in Chicago I had my own business painting murals. My first clients lived a half hour drive from me. They wanted their “Hey, Diddle, Diddle” border reproduced on the nursery wall in a much larger scale. Get ready to groan, shake your head in disbelief, have your jaw hit the floor, I charged $250. That’s all. A week’s work, an hour drive daily, including supplies, for $250. Dan tried in vain to talk me into a price that was reasonable for the amount of work I was doing, while being fair to the clients. I couldn’t do it. As I explained to him, the wife was a social worker, and the husband worked at a grocery store. He tried to talk some sense into me, explaining that they hired me, that it wasn’t my problem what they could and couldn’t afford. I didn’t change the price. Apparently I have many issues, and much in the way of my favorite scapegoat, Catholic guilt.

We had other company in the dining room. Our cats are particularly happy. There are many small items for them to steal and bat around, or string to run off with. Mia loves it most of all, so much in fact that she likes to join us in the center of things, like the middle of the table, in the middle of my supplies.image

Tonight another upcycled project. One I like so much I may never sell it. An old box that I bought for a few dollars. Painted, decoupaged with one of my photos from France and some scrapbook memorabilia. Acrylic paint projects (12)

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IMG_2177But then again, I need the cash…now if I only knew what to price it at…

It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like…

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It’s beginning to look a lot like…a stripper named Ginger is renting my spare room. It’s that time of year again. The time when the men in my house look like they’ve just left a gentleman’s club. (I certainly don’t get that name. Nothing gentlemanly about it!) Glitter, everywhere you look, glitter. Dan has left this house with not a trace of sparkle only to find himself glistening at a business meeting. I try hard to keep it contained but it is as if it is a force unto itself, just like the hair from my three cats that I fight on a daily basis, glitter is resistant to all cleaning methods. Anyone who steps foot into my house in the months of November and December can expect to leave just a little shinier than when they walked in. My apologies in advance. As long as I’m apologizing…Dear Father Karl, I am sorry that when you left our house in your nice black priest attire your back was white with cat hair.

In my efforts to help with the family finances I am participating in a craft show in December. I generally don’t do shows. I hate, hate, hate, sitting still for hours. I never sit still. I can’t even watch a movie without reading a magazine. I don’t do much crafting. I believe I have mentioned the “toilet paper cover” art that I have seen at some of these shows. The number of ways people can come up with to disguise a roll of toilet paper is incredible. I think my favorite have to be the crocheted ones with the doll’s head on them. I’m not a germ freak or anything, but has anyone given any consideration to how many germs clings to that yarn? Yuck. There are of course plenty of soda can airplanes, and hideous garden ornaments, but there also some really nice things as well. I try to bring a little something different to these shows. My most popular item is a fairy made from deconstructed silk flowers. I’ve been making them for probably fifteen years. They have evolved over the years and are really quite nice. Two years ago someone asked if I could make a mermaid. I said yes, although I had never tried, but it turned out to be quite successful. One night doodling on a napkin I came up with a zombie. Everyone needs a zombie on their Christmas tree. In these days of unemployment I am hoping to pay for Christmas. I also want to say this, I have been open and honest in all of my blogging. This blog is a blatant plug for my etsy shop. (I am jackiez59) I am shamelessly promoting myself. I will begin listing some of my ornaments and other items tomorrow. I also will do special orders. Hopefully by next week it will include cards and prints. If you like my stuff, and are in any way in the holiday spirit, please take a look. As always I put my heart and soul in all I do. I can guarantee quality under-priced work. (Again, it’s the Catholic guilt thing, and maybe the “not good enough” thing as well. I never charge enough)

Tonight I am sharing some fairies, a mermaid, a zombie, and my favorite, The Wizard of Oz.  No two are alike, and just for old times sake…Sr. AloysiusAmelia (1)

Brianna (2)

Elizabeth #10 (3)

Zoey (2)

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Dorene (3)

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A Distant “Goodbye”

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As the day draws nearer to my Dad getting the keys to his new place, I find my mind returning to thoughts of he and my Mom. I won’t get a chance to say goodbye to their home. I live too far away, and well, if you regularly read my thoughts, you know that money is tight. Going home isn’t an option. Tonight as I prepare dinner it is just Dan and I. The kids are grown. Brian is still here, but as young men often do, he is out more than he is in. We are in the kitchen/family room together, Dan watching the television and reading, I am cooking, painting, and writing all at once. There is a comfortable silence wrapped around us, one that two people who know each other so well, and love each so much can be content in, like a well-loved blanket. From time to time one of us speaks. A comment from him, or me asking his opinion on the piece I am working on. Satisfied to just be with each other. It makes me think about my parents. I’m sure they had evenings like this in that house. I am also sure that since my Mother died my Dad has longed for those evenings. Life moves, and although all of us moving through it have emotion, there is no emotion in time. Even though Mom has been gone for six years, the finality of her house no longer there for me to return to makes me sad. In a way it is like losing her all over again. But again there is time. It is time for life to continue there, another family will move into that house, another family who knows nothing of us or who we were as a family will make new memories there. For them it will be a new place, for me it will be the last place my Mother lived. One thing I have learned, particularly in these last few years, is to value these moments, these quiet evenings, because they won’t always be here. Each of us will have those moments of great loss, remember to hold on while you can.

On a less melancholy note, I am just about finished with my clock/bookcase. I say “just about” because I need to cover the back of the door, but it is a detail that isn’t important for tonight, and I need to add one more piece of trim to a shelf. What I am thrilled about is how it has turned out. The vision in my head is complete. I have so often mentioned that I love to do things for children. This is one of those projects. I’ve written so many posts that I don’t recall if I have ever written this before, so please forgive me, but then again it was one of the greatest compliments of my life. My Mother told me that she wished I were her mother, because of all the things I loved to do for my children. I am me because of her. I want to do things for as many children as I can. I am so excited about this project because there isn’t a doubt in my mind that when children come to our shop and see the enchanting world inside the clock, they will love it. When I had finished the clock face I was happy with it. However, the inside of the cabinet was empty. What to do? I had in mind all along the “Hickory, Dickory, Dock rhyme in my head. Inspiration struck. Why not a secret mouse house in the clock? First floor, the garden. Second floor, the main house. What to do on the third floor? It came to me last night. A bookstore, just like the one I will be opening. The mice are made of Sculpy, and the rooms are full of things I found in the garden, or leftovers from other craft projects. There are a few things that I think every child needs: discipline,love, and imagination. I want to spark a little magic in their minds.IMG_2118

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Finally, tonight a piece of work that isn’t mine. My friend, Gabby asked me for an art lesson. I’ve mentioned Gabby before, she is nine. I have been asked to teach before, but never felt comfortable passing on my “I’ve never had lessons, have a million bad habits, don’t really know what I’m doing, flying by the seat of my pants” art. For Gabby I’ll make an exception. We did a lesson in watercolor. Gabby’s Waterlily.IMG_2087Gabby did a beautiful painting.

It’s Almost Time

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Scrambling to write at the last-minute. I spent the entire day again working on my grandfather clock project. I couldn’t be happier with how it is turning out. I’m not quite ready to reveal it yet. I have some final touches that I will take care of tomorrow. I want to thank everyone who reached out to offer support after reading my post of a few days ago. I am very nervous heading into business, actually incredibly overwhelmed, but I think it bears repeating that with Dan at my side we can do anything. I have so many thoughts about how we should do things that I’m finding it hard to rein myself in. I guess what it comes down to is that I am terrified but also very excited at seeing our dream come to fruition. This piece I have been working on is just an example of how much I care about what I do. I want every detail to be perfect. I just have to move past this fear of failure. I don’t really blame myself. We aren’t as young as we use to be, and it will take very penny we have. It’s a difficult decision to put everything on the line.

For tonight I am posting an older watercolor. Talk about fear, this is a painting I did from a photo I took while sailing with friends in San Diego. I hate the water, I can’t swim, I have taken lessons twice and failed both times. That isn’t surprising considering my lack of coordination, and that I don’t like water in my face. Dan says I remind him of a cat. I did go willing on this sailing trip, as long as I have a life vest, I’m good. I love taking photos on the water.

Tomorrow my finished clock. It’s almost time…get it? I know, it’s late.Watercolor

Off Kilter

Did you ever start a project that seems so simple and straightforward, but then it turns into a never-ending nightmare where things keep going wrong? It happens quite a bit when you fly by the seat of your pants, and when your brain is a little muddied with stress. Feeling no control in you life when you are a very controlling person can really throw you off your game. I’m also one of those people who never measure. I eyeball everything I do. It drives Dan crazy. He measures and then measures again, and then he will recheck his rechecked measurement. I just do it and if it doesn’t work out I do it again. This of course leads to multitudes of nail holes, lots of wood putty or spackle, and lots of sanding. Twice as much work just so I don’t have to use a ruler. (I swear it’s because of math. It ruins my life) I spent the day working on my grandfather clock/bookcase.  It’s coming along, but as always it’s not quite right, but I like things a little off kilter, just like me.

Not ready to reveal the clock project yet, my entire day seemed to be a series of mishaps, but I did do a watercolor for this evening. I will say this, when I paint the stress melts away. Just another of the many reasons I should do it more often.11 9

Hanging On

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Standing on the edge, afraid to jump. That’s me. We went to look at commercial rental properties today and the enormity of our dream slapped me in the face. I’ve been dreaming of opening my own business for more than twenty years, and now that it could become a reality I feel the ghost of “not good enough” filling my brain with doubt. All these months of planning, and suddenly I feel clueless. I started the morning excited and ended it feeling nauseous. I think it’s time once again to have a good talking to myself. It certainly isn’t the work I’m in fear of. I strangely enjoy physical labor. It isn’t that I don’t have the intelligence or qualifications, and it isn’t that I have any doubts about working side by side with my husband every single day. I’ve spent so much of my life making sure everyone around me is happy. I have spent very little time or effort trying to do it for myself, and here it is, my dream, my happiness, my future, and I just don’t know how to do it. I started this post with “standing on the edge”, I think I feel more like I’m holding onto the edge and afraid to pull myself up. There is the chance of failure on the other side and I think that’s what I fear most. This project was the first baby step towards building a life for myself now that my kids are older, but when I think about opening our business it begins to feel like I went from first steps to marathon running. I’ve spent the day worrying, which I know won’t solve anything, but at least I know I’m good at it.11 8

Not much in the way of art tonight. My brain is in a state of panic. Just me hanging on and hoping to pull myself up.

Nonsensical Doodling

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I’m a smart woman, an obviously talented woman, there isn’t too much that I can’t figure out…well OK, perspective, dancing, reading instruction manuals, my singing voice (if you can call it that), and football. I can however still manage to draw, to follow Dan on the dance floor to a certain extent, granted I may bruise a few of his toes, read the instruction manual twenty times until it sinks in, manage to sing along to Carole King or Carly Simon when no one is listening, and identify knee injuries when football players get knocked down (six knee surgeries, what can I say, I know a torn ACL when I see it). There is one thing I just can’t get a handle on. I’m ashamed to say its fourth grade math. My friend Gabby is nine, she is a very smart little girl. This morning she was stumped on two problems from last night’s homework and asked for help. “Sure”, I said, confident that I could help. Then I looked at it. Oh no, fractions! I have helped Gabby with homework before, it is always math. It usually goes something like this.

Gabby:  “Jackie can you help me with these problems?”

Me: “Of course I can.” Then I look at the problems, tell Gabby how to do them, and then…

Gabby: “I don’t think that’s right. I think this is how you do it.”

Me: ” You know what? You’re right.”

I don’t even know why she’s asks me.

This morning was no different. I saw fractions, visions of Sister Aloysius popped in my head, and I panicked. I grabbed my phone and called in my mathematical “go to guy”, Dan. I explained my dilemma. After he finished laughing he told me how to do the math. It’s pathetic, and embarrassing when you are my age and can’t help a nine-year old with their homework. It makes no sense to me at all. I don’t understand how an intelligent adult can’t do fourth grade math. I am sure however that there are plenty of math geniuses out there who can only draw stick figures. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

I had a very busy day planning for business. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do tonight. I’m tired. My body is still protesting the falling back of the clock. It is actually refusing to listen to the clock. As a result I have been up before five every morning this week. I think my body clock and my brain need to have a conversation about how tired my eyes are. I also think that the fractions caused some temporary brain damage. I sat after dinner and played with my pens. A nonsensical doodle is the result. I started drawing with no idea of where I was going to end up. In the end I began to think that it looks a little like a Dr. Seuss. The drawing looks like it is running from the page. Maybe if the Cat In The Hat needed a book-plate…

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Not Music To My Ears

I’ve been known to air a pet peeve or two here on this blog. I do it for a number of reasons, the first of which is that I sometimes get tired of myself. I began the blog a little on the “woe is me” side of things. I realized that I could only continue to feel sorry for myself for so long. I was boring myself. I wanted to give the people who were kind enough to follow along something interesting to read, and finally because as I pointed out a long time ago, this is my blog I make the rules. This gives me the right to yell to the world about what in life I find annoying. As always I add a disclaimer. This is my opinion, and for me that makes it right. I firmly believe everyone deserves the right to feel what they feel, and I have the right to feel that they are wrong (just kidding…sort of). Today I think I may stand the chance of being agreed with by all. Why? Because today I am going to rant about music. I love music. Not all music. I really hated Country for a long time, but more and more cross over artists have swayed my opinion just a little. I still really dislike some of it, but the torch has been passed. Reggae now reigns supreme in my most hated music category. Can’t stand it, nails on a chalkboard for me. In general my biggest issues tend to be not with the music (except for Reggae, I hate everything about it), but rather the lyrics. I’m a word person. I really listen to the words. When my daughter was a teenager I lectured her severely on the purchase of an Eminem CD. I read the lyrics and was horrified. She received a long lecture on the history of the Women’s Movement, the sacrifices made, rights earned, and how she as a woman should be outraged. I’m sure in her mind she was rolling her eyes, but I felt that strongly about it. What started my little rant today was a phone call that Dan made. He called about an electronics product that we had repaired. The repair isn’t the issue, it was the horrible music he was forced to listen to as he waited. I’m not one that enjoys the loop of the “We will be right with you” robo voice, but I think I would have rather have listened to that. Several weeks ago I was in the Ladies Room of a national restaurant chain, forced to listen to the lyrics, “She got red so now I got the blues”. Kill me now. And in the bathroom no less, no escape. Earlier in the year I actually complained to a very high-end clothing store, again a national chain, because the lyrics I was forced to listen to while on hold were so offensive I wrote them down in order to repeat them to the operator. Does anyone listen to the tracks they are putting on these phones? I’m sure some people would assume I’m a cranky old lady, I’m not. I think I’m the only Lady Gaga fan in the house. It’s just that I want to choose what to listen to, not have it forced on me by some anonymous computer. I also again respect your right to listen to what you want while you drive, but could you turn it down at the stop light? Please? Aren’t those the songs that become the “ear-worms” that you can’t get out of your head? So now I have that rant off my mind, but there is still that song stuck in my head…She got red, so I got blue. Can you hear the sounds of me smacking the side of my head?

My pastels were still out on the table from last night, and I had some beautiful sunflowers from Emily, so Ta Da!  (or is it Ta Dah? who knows?) A project for tonight. A pastel and pencil sketch of my flowers. Perspective is questionable as always, but then it wouldn’t be mine if the perspective was perfect, would it?

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