love & squalor designs

Oh Tax Return. Oh Tax Return.

2008-04-09T15:48:00.000-07:00

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways...

Okay so I know that I should spend this year's tax return on debt reduction and building our nest egg and creating a sense of security for my husband and myself so that one day we might have the options with regard to jobs and location and lifestyle. Be practical, I tell myself. And normally, I am.

True, I am not always prepared. For instance, I still don't really know how to change a tire. I don't carry a Tide pen in my purse for spills, and I never ever have quarters for the parking meter. But I am pretty practical, in a sensible flats and wash-and-go haircut kind of way.

I also love my little family and I want us to be secure in our future, to feel confident and comfortable with our choices. So I imagine I will deposit this check and pay off a long-held debt. I will gain a little independence and a lighter heart, sure.

But wouldn't a new sofa from anthropologie just be more fun?

Boys are different.

2008-03-22T09:08:00.000-07:00

Scene: A wife comes in after a long day at work. She puts her arms around her husband and kisses him on the cheek.

Wife: (reeling backward.) Oh my gosh, your ear has been bleeding.

Husband: Really?

Wife: There is some dried blood on your ear lobe and behind your ear. Does it hurt? Did something happen?

Husband: Oh no, that's tomato sauce.

Excuse: Real Therapy is More Expensive

2008-03-18T17:00:00.000-07:00

I'm down in the dumps. It doesn't really matter why. There are reasons, but they are not in proportion to the dumpiness I feel. This is no regular run of the mill moody blues, rainy kind of lethargy that can be solved with a cup of tea and an a quilt-clad pity party for one. No this is bigger than that. And deeper. And meaner. Yes, this is the mean reds as Holly Golightly would say.

In fact, this is exactly what she said: "No. The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?"

Her solution, if you remember, is not to see a therapist. No dream interpretation for Ms. Golightly. No--she shops.

And so do I.

Here are my latest acquisitions:

These letterpress prints from Really Good Things, etc. are the perfect addition to the beautiful red living room that I am decorating in my day dreams. Some day I will have the beautiful red sofa (from anthropologie) that would complement these perfectly. Or at least I'll have a sofa.

Besides, I have always loved letterpress--it's the deconstructionist in me--and I couldn't have found two better prints to inspire an aspiring artist and an aspiring writer more.

So for now I wait for the mail man to bring me my presents to myself. I'm so excited to hang these on my living room wall. And while, I'm curled up with a quilt, a cup of cocoa and a good book, I'll remember that these red beauties staved of the mean reds.

Now that's (retail) therapy!

P.S. If Richard doesn't hurry home with a hug, I am going to own this Queen Elizabeth pillow by Karen Hilton Designs that I have been lusting after since I first found etsy. Chic and cheeky, a fabulous combo.

To be honest, I'll probably own it by the end of the evening--hug or not.

On 'Mothering'...and other failures

2008-03-14T10:12:00.000-07:00

Okay, so no one around here is pregnant. Though yesterday, my sister accused me of the condition when I made her wash off the moisturizer that she was wearing because it made me want to puke. In the nicest possible way.

I'm still nobody's mother and if you asked my husband (and he consulted our current bank balance), you would know that I am likely (though not certain, never certain) to stay that way for a while.

In fact, I realized this week that I am the only woman in his family that isn't a mother. I figured this out when I found out that we had missed "Mothering Sunday" or Mother's Day in the UK. Oh, we had the gifts and cards. They'd been stashed away for an age in the "present closet" or rather the "black hole at the back of the house." But where they addressed? Postage affixed? Mailed?

Absolutely not.

The reason for this was simple. I don't know when Mothering Sunday is. And if I had had to guess, I would have said that it was always the third weekend of March--not the fourth week of Lent. Why would you celebrate mother's day during lent? Why would you celebrate anything during lent? Or so my own mother--the preacher--wondered when I told her that I discovered we had missed it. No presents for Rich's mom. No phone call. Nothing.

Sure, Richard should have remembered, but in our family the division of labor goes like this:
Rich--dishes, laundry, vacuuming. Rach--holiday celebrating, bringing home the big bucks, looking pretty. Not sure that this is a formula that I am willing to mess with too much at the moment.

I might have remembered Mothering Sunday if I were British. Unfortunately, as much as I feel British on the inside (and I've drunk enough tea to make it so), I understand that this just doesn't count. Other evidence that betrays my alien nature: I hate marmite, ribena and branston 'pickle,' I always always look left-right-left when crossing the street, and I still laugh nervously when people say, "toilet" instead of "restroom."

Maybe I would have known about the day if I were someone's mother. I might have gotten a card and a well-wish or two from across the pond myself. But childless is tantamount to holiday-less. And being the only woman in the family who isn't a mother makes me, like the fourth wife in the Joy Luck Club, beholden.

Luckily, I have been forgiven. Someday, I'll know how important this holiday is. Or maybe I won't. After all, I am only an American.

So I am off to the post office to airmail my well wishes to the mothers in the family and there will only be the gentlest of weeping on the way.

P.S. Here's the gift I picked out. A sweet posy ring from Anthropologie (or Anthro as those in the know--aka Richard the employee--say.) What I lack in grandchild-production I make up for in funky-ring gifting, no?

We know we were away a LOOONG time...guess where you'll find us next?

2008-03-04T18:17:00.000-08:00

That's right.

We're doing our first craft fair on March 15--rain or shine (and this week we've had both here in sunny Austin.) We're hoping for shine. With all our might.

Back to the future...

2008-02-26T06:22:00.000-08:00

We've been away for ages.

We're back and we've got soooo many new selections to be listed.

And we've got even more plans for the future.

This is an exciting time for us.

How is 2008 treating you?

just kidding around in 2008

2008-01-01T07:48:00.000-08:00

Happy birthday to me! happy birthday to me! happy birthday dear girl-who-can't-believe-it's-this-time-of-year-again! happy birthday to me!
In honor of my first 27th birthday, I have created a short tribute to myself--ha! Also I am sick and have been lying on the couch all through the New Year's festivities so tributes to me are all I have to amuse myself. Bear with me.

Still a kid at heart, can't you see?

Happy new year to all! I hope 2008 finds you each happy and well. If you stick around until next year, you will see me turn 27 again!

Gifts to reduce the waste, increase the love...

2007-12-14T06:35:00.000-08:00

I will confess that I am what my mother generously calls a "gracious gift giver." That means that I want to find the very best, most perfect present for the ones I love--and even the ones I just know. A great deal of energy goes into producing these perfect gifts. A G*R*E*A*T* deal. Why do you think I am so tired all the time?

The best gift that anyone can get me...an oooh and ahh when I reveal the gift that I have either:

a) Scaled Kilamanjaro

b) Sold my left kidney

to procure.

Not really, but you get the idea. I guarantee I have laid awake at night wondering if I did the right thing and I have probably cried anguished tears of self doubt, knowing that whatever I bought, made, scaled a mountain for could have been more perfect if only I had thought about it a little bit harder and cared a little bit more.

I have just described one downside of the condition. The other is that I kind of expect other people to care the way I do, so when I open a random gift of lima beans or mustard-colored wellington boots, I am more sorely disappointed than any self-respecting adult should be. My attitude is something like, "Yes it is the thought that counts. Where was the thought?"
Terrible.

This is a disease.

I believe it is hereditary, but not contagious.

You should be fine.

In this holiday season, I am working on worrying less, buying less, using less.

My family will not be receiving an assortment of gifts, each wrapped in coordinated papers chosen specifically for the person by considering their tastes, age, and what they wanted Santa Claus to bring when they were three.

They will be receiving gifts of use--most handmade, many of them things that used to be other things. WHETHER THEY LIKE IT OR NOT.

And how could they not with options like these:

Lorena Barrezueta creates these containers (and lots of other shapes and sizes) from molds of take out containers and other disposables. I think they are brilliant and the perfect reminder that when we rely on a throwaway culture, we miss the opportunity for quality and color in these yummy glazes.

This darling print is by Arian. Is there any sweeter way to represent the principle of fair trade? I am dying to hang this in my office--but I won't blame you if you get there first.

Talking Squid made this purple pillow from recycled t-shirts. I have mentioned before that my husband likes to wear his until they fall from his back. Now he knows that even the scraps can be useful. And in this case, they can accent a chair beautifully.
He may never give up his old ts.

And speaking of t-shirts, look at this darling reversable(!!!) dress for baby by Texas North. It is made from recycled adut t-shirts and solves the age old problem of the spare outfit--at least in some cases. Brilliant!

Proof enough that lots of things can be reinvented...even my Christmas consumer additude.

A new me

2007-12-12T18:37:00.000-08:00

On the 26 thousandth day of Christmas, my true love (the computer) failed me and I couldn't keep up with the daily features. But now we are both back and how.

I thought maybe it was too late to offer you any buying advice. However, judging from the hopping nature of our etsy store (thank you thank you, one and all!), people are still buying holiday gifts. You might ask why I am surprised. After all, I have a long list left to buy and I started in APRIL. Yes APRIL. In fact, the first Christmas gift I bought this year was also the first thing I bought on etsy and the beginning of the journey toward a Love & Squalor store that keeps me up late at night--in a great way. Here was my inaugural purchase:

It is from a series of photographs by Alicia Bock, entitled Sing a Song of Distant Shores and in about a week it will be given to my brother-in-law, who lives near and loves a very distant shore. I am not a fan of the beach, but this photograph makes me want to love the things that do not come natural to me--like open, empty, boundless spaces, like salt and light and golden skin, like fearlessness and grit and solitude.

Tonight I had every intention of writing a blog about gifts that recycle, that make new. But as soon as I saw this photograph again, I was made new. I was transported. And on the 26 millionth day of Christmas, when my list of things to do and buy just surpassed neverending, I needed the renewal. And the grit.

For the RECORD, these are great gifts...

2007-12-06T20:24:00.000-08:00

On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...no CDs. That's right. These lovely gifts are made from those things called records that some of you may remember. If you were not born in after 1991, like most teenagers. (Seriously, i don't feel that much older than I was when I was seventeen. Well, my internal monologue hasn't changed much. But I must be older because I was born when Mr. Rogers was not only alive, but only middle aged.)

But back to our regularly scheduled program. Each of these little beauties is made from an old record. Just look what incredible things a creative mind can do with a piece of vinyl. Music lovers, I think the words you are looking for are "shock and awe."

JaK Random Art and Design

Love the vintage, toile-ish feel of this cuff in combination with the more rocker vinyl base.

Definitely know a couple of people for whom this combination is heaven.

ReFabulous

Aren't these the height of cool?

I am imagining my teenage brother-in-law, a university student who is very sweet AND the height of cool (seriously, he's 6'5''). Wouldn't these look great with snacks on his coffee table during parties? Wait. He is in college. What do you think are the chances that he has a coffee table? Or party snacks?

Retro Grandma

What time is it? Same time as always. Time to ROCK n' Roll.

ooh ooh...as an added bonus, check out this fab listing by Retro Grandma. Now this little beauty knew Mr. Rogers when he was just a boy.

Retired Records
I've said it before and I'll say it again, but this is A-MAY-ZING.
I don't think there is a better gift for the connoisseur of music--or wine. Again, I am reminded of my in-laws. They know lots about all the stuff I know nothing about. I may know how to recognize cool, but like this wine rack, they just know how to be. And that is cool.

What a Card! (a brief pseudo-diversion)

2007-12-05T22:01:00.000-08:00

Okay okay. It looks like I have abandoned my holiday gift guide march to Christmas day. But looks can be deceiving. In reality, I am providing a gift for those of you (read: me) who might have yet to send (read: purchase) holiday cards for your nearest and dearest (read: the thronging masses.)

It turns out that on the 5th day of Christmas--this girl realized that she had better get it in gear if she wants to update the whole world on her comings and goings this year AND offer warm wishes of love and happiness. Or the thronging masses could start reading this blog.

On to the guide...

Young & WithIt Industries

I have loved this card for ages. I have been waiting for the holiday season so that I could feature it. That is how much I love it.

Heidi Burton Illustrations and Prints

I found this card when I was in the etsy forums, offering people the opportunity to be featured. I had lots of people respond. Heidi's "Tonttu" card, featuring a Finish version of a Christmas elf, was love at first sight. I can't ever resist pig-tails.

Kiss 'n Tell Handmade Correspondence

What an appropriately named shop to be selling this mistletoe card. Love the sentiment. But this one goes to a more discriminating audience. My darling husband--yes. My aunt Edna--no.

Pepperina Press

Pepperina press is a perenial favorite here. Love the colors. Love the sentiment--though cold, it ain't, here in Austin. Love the whole image!

CarolLeeDesigns

Because some years you feel like a grinch. Some years you don't.

For those who are feeling a little KOI...

2007-12-04T18:32:00.000-08:00

You know who you are. You don't blink. You bat your eyelashes. You aren't shy. You're koi. I mean coy.

Sunny Rising Leather Love You

Have you ever seen something like this?

Orange Rhino

Because some babies are shy and some babies are koi.

Elyssa & Heather

Okay, I know this is a shark, but it's a pretty cute shark and that is a feat in itself, no?

Ebornaments

The scales are added individually!?!

Amy Giacomelli

Simple, elegent, a bit of a suprise....koi.

For the foodie (or anyone who enjoys eating sweet treats)

2007-12-03T23:23:00.000-08:00

On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me... felt food, of course. My two-year-old nephew loves to "cook" and grocery shop. I have included some things he might soon find in his cart or his kitchen.

And then, I also feature some meal related jewelry because...well, it caught my eye. Personally, I don't have anyone to buy a utensil bracelet for but I do so hope that someone does. It's awesome.

Posie and Me

Mermaid Sparkle

MissyCakeLand
(I l*o*v*e the vintage button "frosting" on this brooch)

LillyBean

(this one is richard, the vegetarian's, favorite. yay for veggie pitas! yay for felt pitas, too!)

And finally...

Told you it was awesome!

For the PRICKLY people in your life...

2007-12-02T20:31:00.000-08:00

On the second day of Christmas... our holiday gift guide suggests gifts for the more prickly people you know. Be honest. You know who we're talking about. Everyone has a somebody in their lives who is just a little bit...spikey.

Hope you enjoy!
Eclu

Zesty beads

Mary Ink

Sleeping Forest Studios

The Black Apple

(Don't you love a diptych?)

L & S Inaugural Gift Guide

2007-12-01T19:54:00.000-08:00

Welcome to the Love & Squalor inaugural gift guide. In the spirit of the old advent calendar my sister and I loved when we were kids, we'll offer you a few treats for the 24 days leading up to Christmas.

Today, gifts for your Golden Girl:

Willarie: a modern take on children's clothing

Sojourn Curiosities:
wearable journies of the mind, body, and soul

Modern Printed Matter

and finally, our inspiration for this first edition: the original Golden Girls

that's right, all four lovely ladies are here thanks to Kezzaroo

E.A.S.T. is Eden

2007-11-19T09:37:00.000-08:00

The East Austin Studio Tour or EAST took place this weekend and it was fabulous. (Yay Austin!) I thought that nothing could top STITCH last weekend, but EAST is a horse of a different color.

First of all, it is organized so that you can wander through neighborhoods in East Austin and peek into more than 70 different working artists' studios. They work in every medium you can imagine. They are organized. They are messy. They work on scrap paper. They tear whole sheets. They are funny. They are deadly serious. They are artists.

Of course, STITCH had artists too. In fact, I saw these slip cast ceramic cups (in an alluring rainbow of colors) at both events. But I think the thinkg about EAST that is fascinating is that you get to see the work and the artist in its natural habitat, that is the studio. There are no booths or tables neatly wrapped in brightly coordinated tablecloths. EAST is not a fair or a shopping experience. It has the grit of plaster and sawdust. It tastes like charcoal and oil. It smells like sweat.

In a city that is "divided" by geography (and economics and the color of skin and a sense of culture), it felt radical to walk the neighborhood and wave at everyone we met. In a country "divided" by so called culture wars, it felt radical to celebrate art while drinking beer in lawn chairs. EAST was just a little bit of heaven on earth.

STI*TCHin Good Time

2007-11-14T12:46:00.000-08:00

This weekend (yes, I know it is Wednesday. yes, life is occasionally a little overwhelming.) I attended the Stitch Austin Guerilla Craft Bazaar at the Austin Convention Center.

Like lots of people I know--well, lots of etsy people--I am trying to complete a large part of my holiday shopping by buying from independent artists and sellers. Like lots of etsy people I know, I have been trying to talk up this plan with friends and family who are yet to catch on to the handmade revolution.

Stitch was heaven for an independently minded buyer.

Not only was I able to procure a He-Man necktie for Katie's brother (will definitely post pics if ever i get my hands on any), but I was also G*I*V*E*N TWO awesome bumper stickers, one for me and one for Katie, that said:

Don't blame me, I voted for Etsy and My handknit sweater is an honor student at www.etsy.com

I have a very well loved car that is currently completely free of embellishments. I think that one of these is an appropriate first. I will pass the second one along to someone else who loves etsy--and drives all over town.

Another highlight was when I met Fort Cloudy in person.

Well, actually, I swung by her booth, told my husband, "Oh my god, that is Fort Cloudy. I recognize her from the etsy forums," hid behind him like a I was that a kid who is both scared and excited to see the cool babysitter coming, and finally browsed her racks. He had a nice conversation with her about her participation in Stitch and other craft bazaars.

Fort Cloudy had a wonderful assortment of garments for grown ups and little people. I particularly liked the bibs for babies with an imagination. Fort Cloudy has the ability to create an image that is almost cliche--and then completely upend one's expectations. The perfect example is the mer-bunny on the bag pictured. As Fort Cloudy says in the listing, "Don't let his fangs scar you. He's swimming his way right out of the seaweed bed and into our hearts."

The whimsical embroidery was refreshing after seeing lots of (admittedly amazing) silkscreened tees. The He-man tie had totally depleted my budget for the evening, but I have a feeling that I will be back by the etsy store sometime soon to complete my Christmas shopping.

Rarely does my husband express interest in a piece of clothing. When he does, I have to seize on it--and seize on the chance to replace any one of the holey (or is it holy?) t-shirts that he has been wearing since he was 12. Just kidding. Of course, I can't get rid of these treasures.

I guess I will just have to learn to S*T*I*T*C*H.

A Quickie...

2007-11-08T05:08:00.000-08:00

Players: A young man and woman. They are married.

The Scene: a family room filled with "well-loved" furniture. The whole room has a broken-down, lived-in look. The girl inspects a package that has just arrived. She opens the outter box.

Girl: (Gasping). I think that this box is from Tiffany's.

Boy: Really? Who sent it?

Girl: (reading a small card) It's a belated wedding gift from K----.

Boy: Well, that's nice.

Girl: (holding the signature blue box up, marvelling) Seriously, I don't know that I have ever seen anything from Tiffany's in real life. Not ever.

Boy: (shrugging) Well, I guess I better put this frito bag down before I touch it, huh?

Confessions of a Methodist Princess

2007-11-05T20:49:00.000-08:00

Things at Love and Squalor Designs are changing dramatically.

(It is okay to gasp.)

For nearly three years, Katie and I have worked together (some of the time in a tiny cubby hole that we shared with three other people) and it has been an experience full of love--and squalor too.

It was not "love at first sight" if you will. (Not like the other person I am married to, see post below) In fact, I was terrified of Katie for the first several weeks that we worked together. I avoided her and even went out of my way to schedule my lunchtime so that we would never happen to run into each other in the cafeteria and feel compelled to sit together. (I am a nice person, really. See additional post below about possible anxiety disorder.)

Like a scene stolen from a great chic flick, I found myself trapped at a lunch table with her and to my great surprise, I found one of the great soul mates of my life. We work long hours together. In fact, at the end of one 80 hour week she did say, "I have absolutely nothing left to tell you about. You are caught up on my whole life. I have to have a chance to go out and live a little bit more, just so we have something to talk about again." She laughs at the same stuff--actually, she's much funnier than I am. Maybe most importantly, she cries about the same things. Her heart breaks over the same tragedies. And she has been the best kind of friend.

Last week, I left our shared workplace.

I will be working for the United Methodist Church. I'm a double preacher's kid with a sister who is applying to seminary too. Richard calls the church "the family business" and likes to say that I'm a Methodist princess instead of the Mafia type. Starting this new job is a wonderful opportunity for me.

Also it has a kick-a** title--Director of Congregational Excellence. Doesn't that sound a tiny bit like a euphamism for the inquisition?

To celebrate my new role, I bought myself some beautiful notecards from Natural Historie.

They feature two gothic spires and a rose cathedral--the likes of which Richard Wilbur wrote about when, in his poem For C, he described consolation as, "'A Passion joined to courtesy and art, which has the quality of something made, like a good fiddle, like the rose's scent, like a rose window or the firmament."

The masters who built cathedrals used stained glass to tell the wonderful, mysterious stories of their faith. They built those gothic spires to show the world their passion and their skill. In the detail of their art, they captured something celestial here on earth.

Personally, I think everything in Natural Historie (and its companion blog, A Field Journal) is pretty heavenly too.

As for my confessions, here they are:

I hate pot luck dinners. I can't stomach any kind of mayonaise salad. I'm not even in love with fried chicken. This is difficult because Methodists love pot luck dinners. The more mayonaise salad, the better.
When I was a kid, my sister and I always fought on our way to church. Often, we still do.
My dad always asks my opinion about his sermons. Then he tells me why I am wrong. It's our Sunday tradition.
I am really glad to be leaving my old job.
I am really sad that I don't see Katie every day.

At First Sight

2007-11-03T13:33:00.000-07:00

The following ad appeared in the most recent edition of the "shot in the dark" section of the fabulous Austin Chronicle :

Library Help?

@ Pinnacle campus, you were tall slender

with english accent in library.

Had trouble finding a book.

I was studying by the window.

We met eyes before U caught the lift.

Fancy a coffee sometime?

You: man. Me: Woman.

Hmm...

I happen to know a tall, slender English guy who studies at the Pinnacle Campus for his teaching certificate. He was at the library on the date in question. And here is the clincher...he often has trouble finding things!

Now, some women might be threatened by the fact that their husbands were just "called out" in a personals column. Some women might worry. But not me. I ooze self confidence.

And I *also* happen to know that my husband has never fancied a cup of coffee in his whole life.

Seriously, though, I know that Richard wasn't making eyes at this poor girl. And I do feel for her. In fact, I know exacty how she feels.

When I met my husband, I knew immediately that I wanted to be with him for the rest of my life. He stood in a doorway, wearing jeans and a yellow t-shirt. He was indeed tall and slender with a beautiful accent. I loved him at first sight.

I spent this morning thinking a little about the woman who saw my husband and liked him enough to write a shot in the dark ad. I spent the morning thinking (and shopping) with love at first sight in mind.

I found this pair of hedgehog hair clips at Meeting Street Designs. Their names are Harry and Heidi and it was love at first sight--according to their maker.

I love Heidi's lipstick and flowery hair bow--or is it quill bow? As my sister and I often quote, "a lady needs a few things." Even a lady hedgehog. I think that any little lady would be lucky to own these darling hair clips.

Next, I ran across Annie and Olive, an adorable shop with an adorable name. I love everything in this store, but particularly liked the idea of the Surprise Heart listing. Annie and Olive list a number of small heart pendants, some in pretty paisleys and others in bright corduroy. Purchase this listing and Annie and Olive will send you a heart in a surprise style.

I just love this idea. On one hand, it is such a romantic notion--the surprise of a unique gift sent just for you, a small heart winging its way from another part of the world. On the other, it seems quite practical. Anyone who has loved another person knows that each heart is full of surprises.

Even married people find something new in each other sometimes.

When I read the ad seeking Richard out to him, he hugged me and said: "Me: man. You: woman in my arms. Fancy a life together?"

I met him and it was love at first sight. I followed him across Western Europe to win his heart. Now, that we're married I know that I would go to the ends of the earth. And so would he.

Twenty-Four Hour Potter People

2007-11-01T07:02:00.000-07:00

Fight like a Girl.

2007-10-29T12:13:00.000-07:00

Gentle Readers,

Perhaps you've wondered where I have been recently. Perhaps you have even missed me in my absence. Or perhaps you did not notice the absence. If indeed the latter is true, resist the urge to tell me so.

I took a break from blogging last week to start spending some free time AWAY from the computer or the television or any other appliance that could be enjoyed by sitting down. I got up and got moving.

Here is the proof:

Let me remind you that exercise does not come easily to me. I am neither lithe nor limber. There are no long, lean muscles in my arms or legs. In fact, I am fairly convinced that the strongest muscles in my body at the moment are indeed all found in the seat.

However, this month is Breast Cancer Awareness month. (Yes, I am catching the tail end of it, I realize, but unfortunately my powers of organization are about as well developed as my tricepts. Besides, breast cancer awareness may be highlighted each October, but it is a subject serious enough to warrant action year round.) Lots of studies suggest that moderate exercise decreases one's risk of breast cancer dramatically.

One more reason to tie those tennies and hit the pavement.

Please note that my newfound (nearly week old) commitment to exercise did require several new outfits, including the one pictured above--appropriately pink, I think!

In fact, shopping is another great way to fight Breast Cancer--one that comes much more easily to me than a couple of sets of jumping jacks.

Lots of great etsy sellers have created special listings with profits going to Breast Cancer research and treatment.

I bought this art card from Stiletto Heights:

She did a series of several for charity and I was lucky enough to grab this one. I love the vintage screen queens--like Garbo and Monroe and Hepburn (both of them--actually) and this original art card really captures their glamour and mystery so well. This card is even more beautiful in person. I can't wait to frame it. If only this exercise would lead me to that kind of hourglass figure!

Nevertheless, any good workout ends with a nice cool shower. This soap by Kopah is the perfect way to scrub down for a cure.

This soap is appropriately pink grapefruit scented and couldn't be a prettier reminder of the need to be aware. I love grapefruit and after sweating it out at the gym, I really appreciate a fresh clean scent. I think these are the perfect way to pamper yourself just a little! Oh and don't forget that just before or after a shower would be the perfect time to do a self exam.

Finally, I want to highlight Paws For Beads--a shop that typically donates profits to animal welfare charities, but which has created the following ornament for Breat Cancer Awareness. I love the gold leaf!

Is there a more beautiful way to remember that Breast Cancer effects women in all places, at all stages of life, in all the months of the year? I don't think so.

In all the Halloween hoopla, I hope you don't forget to hug the survivors in your life and hit the pavement (and the stores!) for your own health.

Give it up for Halloween!

2007-10-18T10:27:00.000-07:00

me and my sister performing Under the Sea, 1991

Candy corn and make-believe--what's not to love about Halloween?

My mother (who routinely worked sixty hour weeks outside the home, who cooked our meals and never missed a school program, who went to the grocery store every single day though she hates the grocery store, who still laughs at all my jokes--even the really bad ones) made my halloween costumes. With a sewing machine.

For those of you in the etsy community, this will seem like no big deal. After all, the revolution is handmade, no? But I am not from a family of crafty people.

My grandmother's great loves: matching accessories, gold purses, shopping bags, clearance sales.

My grandmother's hates: needles of the knitting or sewing variety, working from home, following a pattern.

And the mother doesn't fall far from the tree so to speak.

However, each year my mom got out the singer and got to work on the costume of my dreams. I was a gypsy. I was a genie. I was swaddled and sometimes stuffed into costumes of satin and sequins, felt and fake fur--and always love.

As happens more and more in my adulthood, I find that I am not quite up to par with my mother. I am more laid back, more lazy, maybe even more tired than this woman who is apparently totally tireless. Also I have no sewing machine. So this year, I bought costumes for my nephews who live in the UK.

I made a mistake though and now I have an extra costume. You see, I did learn from my mother and from my grandmother before her that everything should match. (See my grandmother's loves above). After twenty-six years, the impulse to put two related things together is almost pathological.

Etsy and Katie are slowly breaking me of the habit. Note that we are big on coordination in the shop and we don't worry so much about actually matching. But it takes time. Meanwhile, I bought my infant nephew a lion costume, but couldn't find one for his older brother. Even after a hunt worthy of a Hemingway short story, I couldn't find a tiger. Or a zebra. Or a four legged animal of any kind. So I went back to the drawing board and bought the toddler a darling octopus costume and got the baby a matching goldfish swaddle.

Now, I have this lonely lion costume:

It comes from the Children's Place and is a brand new 0-6 month costume with a body piece that you could wear over a shirt, a matching head piece, and two booties. Unfortunately, you can't tell from the picture that it is new because in my haste (before I knew how hard it was to get a second safari animal costume) I took it out of the packaging. If you know a little lion in waiting who is without a mane or tail at the moment, leave me a comment. I will be conducting a raffle Saturday morning for this costume and will send it to the winner priority mail, so that it will be sure to get there in time for Halloween festivities.

To be honest, I am not even sure whether they do trick or treating in Wales the way we do it in Texas. I get the impression that British people are willing to buy their own candy and don't need to resort to begging for their tootsie roll fix. But I could be wrong. Anyway, I bought my nephews their costumes not because they needed them, or even because they would particularly appreciate them (they are really only babies), but because it allowed me to slip into that Halloween world where anything is possible and everyone is transformed.

For one day a year, you can be a fish or a bird. You can be a plane or you can be Superman. You can be the wicked witch or you can wear the ruby slippers. That is the homemade magic of Halloween.

What a Wonderful World...

2007-10-15T09:09:00.000-07:00

Today, bloggers around the world have committed to taking up the cause of the environment. I decided to post some photos that Richard and I took while visiting the Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago. We took them so that we could send copies to our 2-year-old nephew, Kai. (Unfortunately, Auntie Rachel has been busy and Kai is yet to see them.)

He's going through a phase in which he is fascinated by photos and since we live on the other side of the world (Kai is a native of Wales), he sees us far more often in print than in person. Actually, there was an unfortunate period in which he had me a bit confused with Al Gore. Thank goodness it was mostly in the name and not in the look.

Don't get me wrong--I think Al Gore looks pretty good for a middle-aged man who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. But while I am somewhat flattered that my nephew confused me with a Nobel Prize winner, I do want Kai to think that I look slightly more--feminine.

Apparently, the confusion was never about look but about sounds. The names Rach-el and Al Gore sound a bit alike to a very clever young Welsh boy. I don't really hear it myself, but I have a hard time making my own voice or the voice of my interior monologue stretch to a Welsh accent.

Oh I hope that Kai someday understands what work Al Gore has inspired, the work that is yet to be done. I hope Kai lives in a world where we value the future--his future--as much as we value our own creature comforts. I hope Kai lives in a world where all the creatures pictured still exist.

After all, I may live on the other side of the world from my nephew, but it is such a small planet.

Come on Eng-a-land.

2007-10-13T16:05:00.000-07:00

Today we practiced the other other religion--RUGBY.

Richard, Lizzie (my sister), and I headed to Fado, a local Irish pub that claims to have the best Guiness in North America, for the England v France semi-final game of the Rugby World Cup. For our part, we stuck with lager and ale. None of that Irish stuff today. We were channeling England all the way.

Before the game, Richard gave Lizzie a long tutorial in the rules. Before the game, I tried on four different outfits until I landed on the one that a) best represented the flag of St. George, the symbol of England and b) did not make me look fat. Hence, I still don't know the difference between a prop and a flanker. Nor do I appreciate the significance of the 22 yard (or is it meter?) line.

But, I am sure that Lizzie and I were the cutest ones in the pub.

Before you get worried that I have developed a big head, please understand that there were maybe 5 women in the place because most wives/girlfriends/sisters of the rugby fans at Fado would probably not have been caught dead in the mosh pit of men, sweating and screaming, "Come on England!" One guy scootched past me and the ripe stench that hung on the air after he was long gone suggested that he had been playing International Rugby, not watching it in an air-conditioned pub.

Even my darling mild-mannered husband transforms into a hooligan when it comes to Rugby. Once, when we were dating, he screamed in anger at my flatmate who changed the station while Rich was watching the rugby. I had run upstairs to put on a sweater and by the time I got back, Richard said, "Get your coat, Rach, we're going home." In that moment, he was Clark Gable or Humphrey Bogart--some classic Hollywood leading man, taking charge and taking care of the little woman. It might have been really romantic. Except I was already at home.

Today, Richard encouraged his team in his usual sweet way--most of the time. He was the only one in the pub saying, "Good play, lads. Keep it up" But when a Welsh man dained to cheer on France at a pivotal moment, I heard my darling husband yell back: "Traitor!"

I must say that this is not his normal attitude. In fact, we got home from the game this evening to find that a gift we'd bought for our newest nephew, Finnlay--who is a native of Abergavenny, Wales--was waiting for us in the "post box." Charlie and Sarah created this custom long-sleeved onesie for the little guy using a block printed design from their British Flashcard collection and I couldn't be happier with the way it turned out. I plan to buy a matching one for Rich soon so that he and one of his favorite Welsh citizens will match.

Finn--just remember that you may be "mini" now, but someday you'll be bigger and when the time comes, we'll be happy to watch you play rugby, even if you do play for Wales! (Well, at least Auntie Rachel will...)

But back to the game...after 80+ brutal minutes, England won! This is the face of a boy who has just pulled his wife to him in excited revelry (nothing to do with the beers he had--absolutely NOTHING):

I am now quite the fan of Rugby, myself. Anything that makes a man grab his wife like this has got to be good. Next weekend, we'll be back at Fado's for the finals and I'll be screaming, "Come on, England" with best of them.

-----

P.S. I know that I married the right man because of the following conversation:

Me: That number 11 guy is pretty hot!

Rich: Who, Josh Lewsey? Yeah, he reminds me of the guy on the Gilmore Girls that you are in love with.

What do you think?

I know why the caged bird sleeps.

2007-10-10T20:22:00.000-07:00

My father says that I am like a little bird--not, mind you, because of my bone structure or my peckish little bites. I wish. Unfortunately, nothing about me is delicate, mostly because I am indeed often quite peckish.

No. My father says that I am like a caged bird, one that needs her caretakers to drop a black cloth over her cage so that she knows it is time to sleep. When I was in high school, he felt it was his job to lower the darkness each night. He went around the house in his red bathrobe, turning off all the lights and then he would say, "All the lights are out. Everyone else is in bed. It's okay for you to go to sleep now."

You see...my dad understands the reason I don't like to sleep. I hate to miss out on anything. I don't want you to have fun without me just because I'm getting 40 winks.

As I am still reminded, one of my first (and favorite) sentences as a toddler came in response to my parents' entreaties that it was time for a n-a-p. "But," I said, "my awake." Note: pic to left is me, circa 1982--standing near the bed and demonstrating just how bright-eyed i can be.

Tonight, I am dead-dog tired, but have I put on my PJs? Started my nightly ablutions? No way. Everyone else is up, so my awake too.

And as I most certainly am awake, I did a quick search to find some of my favorite etsy bird items.

I love these cards from JJB Studio. The original line drawings are darling and the details are great--especially the songs made of antique sheet music. Maybe if I buy these, I can write little love notes to friends and family next time I am trying to while away the evening hours (tomorrow night.)

Kitty Empire also has this fantastic messenger bag featuring a freed bird. I'm a big fan of Kitty's work. I recently featured another vegan friendly messenger bag from this shop in my laundry treasury (for a pic check out my previous post) for etsy.

I think I have a new favorite from Kitty's shop.

Finally, I want to highlight this amazing brooch from Wired called "First Frost." I recently bought a similar one in a different color pallette (love the muted, winter colors of the one below) for a member of my family--one of the few family members that I am hoping does not keep up with this blog!

It was more beautiful in person and could not have been an easier transaction. Craig--the artist behind Wired--was so so nice and completely went out of his way to make a piece that was not just good enough, but perfect for my loved one. I can't recommend his shop highly enough.

Okay, it's taken me an hour to complete this post and no one in my family has made a move towards sleep. So here I sit, anchored to the couch and holding my eye lids open. Still awake and still shopping!

The Jig is Up!

2007-10-09T00:49:00.000-07:00

So I don't think that I can say that our products come from a pet-free environment...

This photo was taken moments after Richard tried to entice the cat with a pair of shoe laces. See how well it worked?

Kitchen Confidential

2007-10-08T07:58:00.000-07:00

In my house, it's biscuits and butter--the old fashioned kind that are made with baking soda so they are a little bit salty. And chocolate cake with cinnamon and pecans. And potato soup with lots of black pepper. All from scratch.

By the way, isn't scratch a wonderful word?

These are the ordinary family meals that our lives are organized around. (We're carb people!) My great-grandmother made the biscuits first. She fed them to her children for as many meals as they could tolerate during the depression.

My mother made them for her own children as a special Saturday morning treat. At our house, they were served with butter and jam and syrup.

Now my husband makes the same biscuits to go with his soups. They are a part of my favorite evening meals--the ones that bring comfort against the cold or solice at the end of a difficult work day.

Life seems to happen around the kitchen table and it is those most ordinary moments that I also bring me comfort and solice when my world is rocked.

Today I am listing a new memory board in our etsy shop. I think it is totally darling in a bright kitchsy sort of way.

I already want one for my kitchen--one to hang up reminders, one to hold our memories, one to recall the laughter and love we've already shared together, so often in that very room. I look forward to the special Saturday morning breakfasts and the birthday parties to come. I want my own children to know that despite our sometimes meager means, we are rich in the things that matter--chocolate cake and love. And these are the recipes that will be their most precious inheritance, the thing that links us to those we've loved and lost.

I often think that when I am older, I will be able to look back on the tapestry of my life and find that the common thread that binds my memories together is baking soda biscuits.

The Other Religion

2007-10-06T21:04:00.000-07:00

Here in Texas, we have two things that sustain us--faith and football. Faith in Football. Even better.

It's October and the football season is in full swing. My sister and I took Richard to his first Longhorns game a couple of weeks ago. It was a rare treat. They even won! Unfortunately for Richard, we cared more about how we looked in our burnt orange regalia than we do about the rules. He had to make a friend in the guy sitting in front of us just so he could follow the game.

When I see the event through his foreign eyes, I can understand what a spectacle it must seem--80,000 fans screaming from the stands as a live steer watches on the sidelines and a cannon goes off each time the team scores. Everything really is bigger in Texas.

It's also hotter--a lot hotter. And though football season has begun, we're still waiting for the weather to catch up here.

So I've decided to feature a few etsy items that are part of my fantasy football season.

The first store that I want to feature is See Also. I love the color and detail in these mittens, particularly the swirling brown loops on a fresh green mitten. Don't they match the new look of the blog well? I think they would be mine if it weren't so summer here.

And the "mismatched" pair in blue and brown is so fun. When I am a grown up, I want to have the kind of unanticipated coordination of this pair of mittens, unexpected and yet fitting as they are. If anyone could make mittens look sophisticated, See Also can. Besides, I noticed that the shop is located in Canada. Personally, I think Canadians know their mittens.

At my dream football game, I would walk through the stands, the crunch of autumn leaves beneath my feet and a cup of hot cocoa in my be-mittened hand. I would yell like a cheerleader (and look like one too!). With all that yelling, I'd need a nice scarf to keep my throat warm and in prime cheering condition.

For this, I'd turn to Little bit funky's store for this little number. As you can see, I love the chocolate and aqua combination. In fact, this fantasy scarf would look great with my fantasy mittens!

I also like the width and the slightly open weave. It has a real unisex feel. In fact, Richard would be grateful to have a new scarf I think. I "knitted" one for him one winter when he was in London and I was in Texas. Suffice it to say that Little bit funky has a little bit on me in the knitting department.

Finally, I think every couple attending a football game should have a blanket to snuggle under. Like I said, the rules of the game don't mean much to me. I know that makes me a football agnostic or something, but it's true.

I'd take snuggling any day.

For my favorite blankets on etsy, you would have to go to Lindy Lou. These patchworks of coordinated Amy Butler fabrics in muted blues and greens are right up my alley. Seriously, check out my store and understand why Lindy Lou might just be a soul mate. (I have my eye on some pillowcases in her store too!)

The major catch here: these blankets are for babies and at present there are no babies that reside in my house. But then this is my fantasy.

Maybe someday, Lindy lou will make blankets big enough for grown ups.

Maybe someday, I'll have a baby to wrap up in one of her blankets.

I certainly hope so.

Dirty. Dirty. Dirty.

2007-10-05T15:07:00.000-07:00

Well no, not really. My latest treasury at etsy is devoted to laundry day.

To be honest, I haven't had to participate in laundry day at my house lately. I have a stay-at-home husband at present and he is kind enough to take care of this routinely. I am a very lucky girl.

So in honor of him--the man who refuses to use anything but a clothesline, much better for the environment that way--and in hopes of passing along my good karma, I am featuring several sellers with laundry related products.

Some of them even make the process look fun.

The Buy and Replace Debate

2007-10-04T12:24:00.000-07:00

For those not familiar with etsy (and seriously, if you aren't...click the link and discover the wonderful world that awaits), the phrase "buy and replace" probably makes absolutely no sense.

Oh what wonders await you at etsy. (click the link. click the link.)

The Buy and Replace concept works like this: a list or treasury is made with a number of sellers. If you buy something from one of those sellers, your shop replaces theirs in the list or treasury.

Some people love BnRs (as the etsians say). Some people don't. I have been putting us forward in them a bit lately because I am doing a lot of my holiday shopping on etsy and I might as well get us some publicity too.

Here are some Buy and Replace opportunities that you can find us at right now:
http://www.etsy.com/treasury_list.php?room_id=10527
http://www.etsy.com/treasury_list.php?room_id=10573
http://www.etsy.com/treasury_list.php?room_id=10579

Check us out there and tell me what you think of the Buy and Replace concept.

One day at a time...

2007-10-01T01:35:00.000-07:00

So as I type this (ignore what blogger says at the bottom of the post), it is nearly 2 AM on the morning of October 1.

We're celebrating 10/1 over at etsy by offering our photo mats one at a time--for the first time.

Check out our store as we will be listing quite a lot this week.

So far--we've sold one of these funky monkey mats this evening (or morning). Wahoo! When I first saw this fabric, I thought it would fly out of our hands. Not so...yet. My sister says that is because some people love sock monkeys and some people are afraid of them. I am in the former category. She is in the later.

Question of the day: (in her best newscaster voice) Where do you fall on this crucial sock monkey matter?

Seriously, What's that Smell?

2007-09-27T08:21:00.000-07:00

I called in sick today.

As Katie said--yeah sick of this place.

Call it a mental health day. Call it lying, if you must. Doesn't everybody wake up some mornings and think, there is no way that I can get up and go through with the normal routine today? Most of all, I have no interest in pretending my coworkers are funny. (Though Katie really is funny.) I can't stand that fake baby voice that one of them speaks in when she wants to be particularly condescending. And I don't feel inspired when I am making copies.

Instead, I am hanging out at the house today. I've got some cleaning to do--lots of cleaning actually. Yesterday, my sister--who lives with us--walked in the door and said, "this place stinks."

"Stinks like what?" I said, sniffing mightily.

She wrinkled her nose, "like--human."

She's right. Once she pointed it out, I noticed the smell of lived-in-too-long. Some people might call it stale, but to me, stale is locked-up and untouched. This is the smell of running in and out to work and school and meetings. It's the smell of family meals that don't start until 10 PM. It's the smell of burning the candle at both ends.

So my job today is to make this house smell less like human and more like comet. And while I am home, I'm going to fulfill our latest order (thanks jennynucity!) and if I get a chance, I'm going to stop and smell the roses, the ones in my very own back yard.

Hello. My Name is Rachel and I am a Televisionaholic...

2007-09-26T11:37:00.000-07:00

Okay. I admit it. I am the TV addict in this duo.

Katie is pretty take-it-or-leave-it about TV. When I ask her, "What did you do last night?" She has answers like: went for a jog, saw Bill Clinton live, did a little bit of casual sky diving.

Yeah, but did you catch the latest episode of America's Next Top Model?!?

Lately, though, I have been renting a lot of DVDs of cable television shows. For one thing, I get tired of watching ANTM and CSI and SVU. (Note to self: Rachel, crack open a book or you will lose the ability to spell real words.) Cable does do it better. But I am cheap and poor so I only rent a single show at a time, instead of paying a lot for a few shows at once.

Watching TV via DVDs is great because:

1. I definitely get to see new, edgy stuff.

2. I get to watch them over and over and over again. I can fastforward through parts I hate and hit pause when I need to get up and find something. And I start to memorize stuff so that I don't really have to pay that much attention, but somehow the electric hum of the familiar show brings me comfort.

The second scenerio happens often as I particularly like to watch TV while I am crafting. Hope this doesn't blow your image of the angsty artist who shuns mass produced products of society like fast food and pop music...and cable TV. My husband is that guy. I am the girl who loves handmade stuff with quality and character (like you can find at etsy) and I like TV; in fact, the TV I like most is also cut from a different mold than the average stuff and has fabulous characters.

Here are the top five television shows (in no particular order) that I love to watch--or rather listen to--while I make new stuff. (Bear in mind that I have not included any of the British television shows that I love, mostly because they are often crime dramas staring little old ladies and I have to know you better before I reveal my full nerdiness.)

5. Dexter. For one thing, Michael C. Hall is brilliant. He needs so little dialogue to convey such complicated emotions. I love him for that. I just plain love him.

Also, this is great when I am really just listening to it because I don't have to see all the gory scary bits if I don't feel up to it. I just put my head down and focus on the photo mat I am making.

4. Gilmore Girls. I know. I know. My aforementioned husband really doesn't understand my love for this show. What can I say? The heart wants what it wants.

3. Big Love. What I like best about this show is that I really really am rooting for Bill. I believe that he loves all of his wives and I want him to succeed in making his polygamist lifestyle work

An accomplishment, I think, given that if my husband decided to be a polygamist--he'd be a polygamist living on the curb.

2. Weeds. It seems to me that this is a show all about grief and since my mom has always called me The Queen of Tragedy--it's right up my alley. Plus, it can be absolutely hilarious.

1. Six Feet Under. I lied when I said that these were in no particular order. Six Feet Under is my alltime favorite show. I love the Fishers. (I am the Queen of Tragedy, remember?) I love Michael C. Hall. I love Nate and Brenda and the way they never, almost, always find each other and get lost at once. I love the creepy funeral home flowers and the way that Ruth braids her hair. To be honest, I don't watch the DVDs--though I own them all--much any more because it depresses me that the series is over. I know everything ends, but maybe I don't like reality TV, even when it is as good as this.

It turns out that television is the real soundtrack of my life.

***

p.s. Katie does have a new secret obsession with The Batchelor, but don't tell her that I told you that.

My Aunt is a Long Lost Iranian Princess...

2007-09-25T10:59:00.000-07:00

My mother's youngest sister is five feet (and one half inch, she adds) tall--much much shorter than the other women in our family. For instance, I am 5'3'' (and a half). Also, she has tiny little feet and deep green eyes. The rest of us are brown eyed girls.

Sure these differences may seem small and easily explained, especially with a basic working knowledge of genetics and recessive tendencies. But when my aunt was just a little girl, my mother convinced her--based on what she considered to be damning evidence--that my aunt was the long lost daughter of the Shah of Iran, switched at birth with my grandparents' baby boy.

Far-fetched? A little--but my aunt Susie was born in Tehran during the heydey of Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi's rule of Iran. My mother was five years old at the time and had to climb out the window to get the attention of someone living in the compound who had a car and could take my grandmother to the hospital. The family (which also included my mother's middle sister, Judy) spent three years there while my grandfather served in the navy.

Susie was granted duel Iranian citizenship at birth--a fact that made her a foreigner according to my 8 year old mother and means that she could never return to the country for fear of detention.

Neither Susie nor her sisters remember very much from their stay on the other side of the world. Many of my grandmother's memories are steeped in a sense of being desperately isolated and always afraid. It was a difficult unstable time in America. It was a difficult unstable time in the world.

Not much has changed, really.

When Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad gave a speech at Columbia University this week, I couldn't help but think of Susie, who will never see the land of her birth, and of three little faces that stare out at me from my favorite photograph of their childhood. When will we live in a world where we are not so afraid of each other? When will we live in a world where difference is finally tolerated? And borders are not so defined?

I think when we do, it could be ruled by an Iranian princess who happens to live in Dallas, Texas.

This Just In...

2007-09-21T15:42:00.000-07:00

Katie just created this absolutely gorgeous decorative organization piece. It's available in our etsy store. Don't know about you, but I spend WAY too much time looking for my keys. Now, I'm going to be staring at this beauty and thinking, "My god, my friend is talented!"

Stay tuned for more great products in the next couple of days!

I HEART AUSTIN!

2007-09-20T15:27:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, Richard and I went the Austin City Limits festival at Zilker Park.

Our ACL experience started out with a bang (and a lot of smoke) as one of the beer trailers caught fire. It ended with Bob Dylan and even now, his voice is no whimper.

Along the way, we saw:

Joss Stone
Kaiser Chiefs

Queens of the Stone Age

The Killers

Spoon

Indigo Girls

Muse

The Decemberists

Blue October

Damien Rice
Devotchka

Amos Lee

Lucinda Williams

Ghostland Observatory

Wilco
LOTS of friends we hadn't seen in ages. Isn't it funny that in a crowd of 60,000 we managed to run into people we know and love?

Things we didn't see:

Fire ants (Richard was particularly happy about this)
Arctic jackets--cooler festival than usual, but still on the warm and humid side
The aforementioned Pete Yorn
Shade

And KATIE!! Even though we were at many of the same concerts.

Thus, I am left to believe that sometimes you find things you didn't know you missed when you aren't looking and sometimes, you miss the things you like the most even when they are right in front of you.

Good Intentions

2007-09-18T10:23:00.000-07:00

But when she arrived in the new country, the immigration officials pulled her swan away from her, leaving the woman fluttering her arms and with only one swan feather for a memory. And then she had to fill out so many forms she forgot why she had come and what she had left behind.
Now the woman was old. And she had a daughter who grew up speaking only English and swallowing more Coca-Cola than sorrow. For a long time now the woman had wanted to give her daughter the single swan feather and tell her, "This feather may look worthless, but it comes from afar and carries with it all my good intentions." And she waited, year after year, for the day she could tell her daughter this in perfect American English.

--Amy Tan, The Joy Luck Club

I am exactly one week late in blogging about September 11 and what it means to me. I had every intention of weighing in on the subject last Tuesday--but I didn't. The day passed me by and then several were gone with it and, to be honest, I barely felt their passage. Life has a way of interupting all my best intentions.

Six years ago this week, I was in the midst of preparing to fly across the Atlantic. I cried at the airport and even at twenty, I clung to my mother. Know that I love you, I begged her. She didn't make me get on the plane. In fact, in the wake of September 11, it would have been easy to get a refund on my ticket and some of the girls that I went to school with did just that. They cashed in their junior year abroad for a chance to mourn and process at home. I will never know what it was like to live in America in the days that followed that first September 11.

I spent that autumn in England.

I was afraid to get on the plane--and so was everyone else. (It was the most polite flight I have ever been on. ) But I was more afraid to stay behind. I thought that it might hurt my academic career to show up at college three weeks late. And I was sure that someone would know the truth--that I was absolutely frightened for my life in that first few weeks abroad. But the thing is that I was always frightened, even before the events of September 11.

Leaving home--what is more frightening than this?

On the morning that I arrived in London, I had three cups of coffee and accidentally brushed my teeth with Benadryl cream.

And then I met my husband. He was standing in the doorway of the hall's communal kitchen. He wore a yellow skirt and had a commanding presence when he demanded, "Where have you been?"

Now he claims that he was asking out of concern, that he and other British students had been warned to be considerate of their American counterparts in this difficult time. I like to think that the rest of that question was...all my life.

Yes, indeed, where have you been all my life?

On that first September 11, I knew as I watched the replay of events at Ground Zero that this would be a defining time for my generation and I imagined telling my children that I would never forget where I was that day. (...in a bed and breakfast in Denton, Texas suffering from serious food poisoning while on a short break with my mom...)

I did not know that in the weeks that followed I would meet my husband. I did not know that only a year later (to this day), he would write a letter that professed his love and changed our lives. I did not know that four years after that we would be married--and facing a mandatory seperation because of our different nationalities. I did not know that on September 11, 2007, my husband would finally be welcomed into my country as a permanent resident. A temporary permanent resident--actually.

I did not know that our lives would be constantly touched by the red tape and suspicion that has marked my country's response to the attack.

I did not know that we would live through other crises that struck closer. (A bus blew up outside the school I had previously attended in July 2005; my inlaws were on the last plane leaving Heathrow for the US on the day that several planes were grounded there because of a thwarted terrorist attack--they were on their way to our wedding.) I did not know that we would make a life together, one that seems inextricably linked with the way the world is today.

We are a family with ties around the globe. We live in a small world and we live in a world that seems more frustrating and more scary than it used to be. This is what I will remember and what I intend to tell my children, my children whose world I can yet hardly imagine:

In the midst of one of the most fearful times of my life, I found just that. I found life.

In the years since, my naivete has been reduced to rubble. The ivory tower of first love is gone. I met my husband six years ago this week and in that time I have known the best and worst of him and of myself because that is what life is like and life always prevails.

There are so many things I did not know six years ago as I cried on my mother's shoulder. I thought that I was leaving home--maybe forever. How could I have known that I hadn't even found it yet?

It's alright. It's alright, cause you're saved by the...

2007-09-10T18:29:00.000-07:00

I'm a nerd, a real lover of homework and pop quizzes. I prefer an essay to multiple choice any day of the week. I'm the kid who always has her hand raised. And my least favorite part of the day--recess.

But I hate the first day of school. No matter how old I get--or how many years of schooling I put behind me--the first day makes me seven years old again. I'm the new kid, the one who gets tripped at the door by a mean girl whose scabby knees are not hidden by the folds of her smocked lilac dress. I'm the one who has to sneak in during the pledge of allegiance because her parents are not morning people. I'm the one who doesn't know where the bathrooms are and is too afraid to ask.

The first day makes me sick.

When I was in college, I mentioned this to a friend. My exact words were something like this: "No I don't drink orange juice on the first day of school because it makes me puke. You know what I mean?"

My friend suggested I just might have an anxiety problem. Ahh...perhaps.

Here are the things I am worried about (in no particular order):

I will be unmasked as a fraud. This will be the day/the class/the year that people will find out that I have been pretending to be smart or interesting or informed. I will be totally unprepared.
I won't make any friends. I was the new kid--several times. Once, my teacher pointed out to the class that she wanted them to be quiet like me. She didn't understand that was quiet because I had no one to talk to.
I won't know where the bathroom is and I will be too afraid to ask.

Tomorrow evening, I am starting an informal class at the university extention school--four weeks of photography lessons. This is something I have wanted to do for some time. I only hope that I can force myself through the door.

Oh, I also hope the girl in the smocked lilac dress doesn't show up. I can't stand that kid.

-----------

...BELL (as in Bellview)

an update on my photography class

What exactly was I so freaked out about? Why did I need my (little) sister to come into the building with me to find my room as if it were my very first day of school? Why did I not realize that this was going to be the kind of class where the person with the biggest, fanciest camera was also (always, inevitably) going to be the person who thought that the whole class would be devoted to teaching her which buttons to press? (Big round one on top.) Why didn't I see her temper tantrum coming? The screaming and stomping of feet when our teacher said that not every one had the biggest, fanciest camera and so he had to focus on theories of photography. The evil look she gave him when he suggested that he was more than a human instruction manual. And the hysterical near-tears fatalism of it all. Next time, I think I'll offer to let her use my point-and-shoot.

The Inspiration of Plain Jane

2007-09-08T22:47:00.000-07:00

I just saw Becoming Jane in the theater this evening. It was a lovely, loving little flick and one that any self-confessed anglophile (see post below) should see.

I believe that I may indeed be in love with James McAvoy now.

I know that I am in love with Jane Austen.

Several years ago, I visited her adult home at Chawton. The house was a postcard idyll. The seventeenth century cottage had sash windows and creaking wooden floors and wide door ways and ancient trees. It was romance and tradition at once. It was also drafty and rather small.

And the smallest thing in the whole place was Jane Austen's writing desk. No oaken behemoth, the desk instead resembled one of those desks (antiques by a Texan's standards) from my elementary school which was basically a chair with a tray attached, a tray about one inch wider and longer than a ledger sized piece of paper--the kind of desk on which you can't write and rest your elbow at the same time.

On this cramped desk, in this rather ordinary home, Jane Austen wrote some of the best novels ever written in the English language. And she wrote those novels when the form was just that--novel.

If Jane could change literature forever, if Jane could change expectation forever (after all, she was a woman who could write as well as a man...gasp) while writing on this tiny little desk (and answering the door and serving tea), why should I ever feel discouraged?

Comparatively, my pursuits are small and my resources are vast. My opportunities would be unfathomable to Jane. I never, ever have to serve tea. (Good thing, too, my british inlaws would probably tell you.)

This week, Katie and I made some elaborate plans about the future of our store. I was exhilarated by the brainstorming as it happened, and then immediately wracked with worry and doubt. But the dreams we have are within our means and the space we have to maneuver in is vast enough for all our visions. At least at the moment.

This is what I learned tonight: when I grow up, when I really grow up, I want to write like Jane Austen--and look like Anne Hathaway.

Top Ten Reasons I'm an Anglophile

2007-09-07T09:27:00.000-07:00

Today I finally made a treasury over at etsy that I am very proud of--so proud that I am devoting the blog to the same topic as my treasury: Anglophilia. Specifically, my deep, abiding case of it.

The treasury has a bunch of great items that are either related to my love of Britain or made by British crafters. See the world. See my treasury. (For those who don't make it over before the treasury expires, I will be posting some of the great items so that you can admire those sellers as much as I do.)

Here are ten things that I love about Britain:

1. The accents...and yes, there are many. Everyone seems to have a different one there and they all sound like music to me--especially Welsh ones. Usually, I can't understand what Welsh people say, but I find myself smiling and nodding in genuine agreement as their words up and down and dance all around.

My favorite accent of all time, though is, of course, my husband's. I love the way he says puuh-fect in stead of perfect and s-ree lan-ka for sri lanka and when he's annoyed with me, I'm Ray-chuw and not Rachel. His words make me melt. (They make a lot of other Texans melt too. He gets lots of free food--and a job offer--because of it.)

2. Tea time. Is there any cozier daily ritual? I always feel renewed after having "a cuppa" with my British friends.

3. British people have the best coats. Think about it. They have to wear them all the time. If it was nighttime starting at 2 in the afternoon for half the year AND it rained every single day AND the temp never EVER seemed to top 65--I'd have a great coat, too!

4. They have huge working vocabularies. When Richard and I have children, I think I'm only going to let him talk to them. That way they will learn words like whilst and hegemonic and they will actually use them. All the time. If I teach my kids to speak, they'll say things like yeah, mom and dad, i'm fixin' to do what y'all asked. Which would you choose?

5. Hats. Lots of amazing hats, especially at weddings and when they go to the races. (Sigh...they go to the races.)

6. There are vending machines devoted to selling cadbury's chocolate in most train stations.

7. Last time we visited, my husband had to go to the emergency room. No one ever asked how he was going to pay for the visit.

8. Shakespeare was British. And so was Dylan Thomas. Everyone in Monte Python was British. Nigel from Top Model is British, too. And Twiggy. So are the Beatles. Prince Harry is British. And my two beautiful nephews are British. And so is Winnie the Pooh. (Personally I think the oldest bears a striking resemblence to Winnie--only my nephew is cuter and prefers yogurt to honey.) And Beatrix Potter. And Harry Potter. And Mary Poppins. And Julie Andrews for that matter. I think I've proven my point.

9. I lived in the Forest of Dean, England for the year that I was two. I have few memories of it, except for the taste of cherry yogurt, and a daisy chain that my "child minder" made with me, and the sheep that ate our grass. But I think that it imprinted England on my heart forever.

A few pics from that first year:

I also got into hats whilst there...when in Rome, right?

And drum roll, please...

10. Did I mention that I have the most darling British husband in the whole world? back then...playing the good english boy

and now...

I guess he's always the beginning and the end of it for me.

P.S. here are some screen shots of the treasury as it is about to expire. I think that these great sellers will still be around even if you read this next month or next year. Check them out at w ww .etsy.com today.

Light Lite

2007-09-06T07:14:00.001-07:00

Like someone sitting on the back row at a big tent revival, I am struggling mightily at the moment to find the light. We haven't had much here. In Texas. In August. Go figure.

Last weekend, I committed myself to taking better pictures of our products. They're great, but the photos we have don't do them justice.

Some of them are just too messy. My dining room chairs are on display behind the photo mats. The pink wallpaper is a feature--we've never been in love with that pink wallpaper. Our lives are on display a little and our lives are just a little bit too much for a promotional shot.

I took a second set of promotional pics a couple of weeks ago. My husband built a light box. Thank god I married a man with an inate sense of geometry and an uncanny skill with scissors. Katie has an engineering background--so she does fine when called upon to build light boxes and french memory boards (coming soon!) and homes. Okay. She hasn't built a home yet--that I know of--but I wouldn't put it past her. Meanwhile, I can print instructions. That's it, the extent of my expertise.

So Richard built a light box. But somehow, we couldn't find the light. My second set of promotional shots were too dark.

I know it's not the camera. I took these great pictures with no available light a few days ago while on vacation in Chicago:

I am left to think that outdoor shots of our indoor products are best. Now I have to get the weather to cooperate. Can I blame global warming for this?

Labor Day

2007-09-01T12:12:00.000-07:00

On this holiday weekend, it seems fitting to consider those who won't be going on vacation, the people who can't afford an extra day off, the ones who work so that the rest of us can play. There are plenty of people in this country that depend on minimum wage to buy food and to provide shelter. A three day weekend doesn't really do them much good.

I have spent a great deal of time in the etsy forums recently. Lots of posts talk about needing a sale. I believe these people--mostly because I need a sale too. I would love to make enough in my store to pay for my monthly electricity bill or to make my student loan payment or to build a nestegg so that my new family doesn't live month to month. In these ways, I need all the sales I can get.

And yet, I know very little of need.

The etsy venture that Katie and I began planning for in May was financed relatively easily. We work hard because we want to make our money back and more. But neither of us actually depends on this income and I doubt that we are alone in that in the chatrooms and forums of etsy.

We began because we wanted a different quality of life. Not because our lives depended on it.

There are people in this country and around the world who will be laboring on Monday. Most of them won't even be aware of the holiday. It won't really matter for the ones that do know about it.

There are so many people who work to live. To survive.

Because we aren't in that position, because we feel lucky to have abundance, because we were able to choose to change the quality of our lives, because we don't worry about survival, because we have a world class education (that's what those loans were for), because we have so many options, because we have etsy, because we have each other--we want our products to help others have options too.

When you buy from us, 10% of the purchase price will go to organizations that make microloans to people in the developing world. Microloans are very small amounts of money (to us)--often as little as $25--loaned with manageable repayment terms to start up a very very small business.

Most of the recipients of microloans are women. We kind of like that--women still have a way to go in the world and one more helping hand isn't going to hurt.

The amounts are small. We like that too--our small donations make a difference to someone somewhere.

These are loans, not charity. We are happy to give to charities too and we believe in the great work that they do as well as the deep need for nations and multinational corporations to do their part on the grand scale to make whole countries better. We want more of that, not less. But we also understand that a loan can be equally empowering--when the terms are fair.

When we help change the world (with your help, of course), we want it to be transformed into a world where women everywhere feel the same sense of pleasure at having had the opportunity to earn just a little bit of money, a little bit of respect for the hard work that they do. That has been our greatest pleasure since starting our venture--our adventure.

Learn more about microloans here.

And please do check in on a regular basis to see how much you have contributed to the lives of women whom you've never met. (I guess that is us too!)

The Beginning of the Beginning...or Getting to Know You

2007-08-15T14:20:00.000-07:00

If you are reading this, you have probably found our store at http://loveandsqualor2.etsy.com/. Isn't http://www.etsy.com/ wonderful?!? (more on that later)

Katie and I have spent the last three months planning and the last two weeks stocking our store and now that we've come to the end of the first fortnight--as my English husband would say--it feels good. Really really good. We set out to do something and we did it.

To celebrate that, we are holding a big sale at said cyber-store. Buy any set of 8x10 photo mats and get a second set 50% off. Any set of 8x10s. Seriously...take a look. There are more where these came from:

We're hosting our first major sale because we like to shop and when we shop, we especially like to get things on sale. Aren't your new shoes just a little bit more lovely if they were half price? Our photo mats will be too--although they are pretty lovely at full price.

But we're also hosting a sale because we are grateful. Grateful to have made a plan and seen it through to this point. Grateful to have an outlet for our creativity. Grateful to have an opportunity to get meet up as friends and do something that makes the quality of both of our lives better.

Grateful to be at the beginning--together.

The beginning is something I know about. Together is something that I have learned to count on, especially when it comes to Katie.

At this time last year, I was days away from my wedding. I had a lot of out of town guests. I had a big white dress. I had a very VERY nervous groom. And thank god, I had Katie. Even when I wasn't sure whether my fiance was going to show up, I knew Katie would. And she would have all the stuff I'd forgotten to bring--like nail polish and breath mints.

On the morning of the wedding, Katie turned up in the bridesmaids dressed I'd picked. She wore her hair the way I made her. She did my lipstick. Then she did it again. WITHOUT COMPLAINT. And when I waited, hidden from view, for my grand entrance--and I couldn't see whether or not my fiance was even there--she turned to me and said, "He's there and he's smiling."

In that moment--and in a thousand others before and since--she saved me. She has been there with me in the love and the squalor of my life.

A year later, the quivering bride and the nearly absent groom seem very distant to me. My husband and I aren't those people any more. We're more stable, more familiar with each other--and definitely more casual. But I am reminded this week, that we have made it a long way from the first day and still my husband and I are only at the beginning--the beginning of the beginning.

I hope the same is true for Love and Squalor Designs. I know the same is true for my friendship with Katie.

So this weekend, celebrate with me--with us. Check out our sale. You know you want to.