Thursday, February 2nd

I hate it when I write a whole paragraph, and then switch over from HTML view to Visual, and there’s a missing quote or attribute and the whole thing disappears.

I also hate it when things explode in the kiln. There’s nothing I can do about it, but it still distresses me.

See the brown mugs on the right side? Those will soon be filled with men’s shaving soap, and I’m hoping to be bringing those into the shop by mid-to-late February.

Topping my toast in the morning with lemon garlic spice may be the best thing ever.

This post is totally random. Can you tell?

I was finally honest with someone the other week when they asked me which of the many open knitting groups I go to, specifically with the Sunday Stitch ‘n’ Bitch. I don’t go to any of them. Why? Mostly because when I was going to them, right after Hanks closed, people knew I used to own a yarn store, and that at Hanks I used to “happily” sit and give help for free, for hours. I was constantly asked at SnB to help people… to the point where it was difficult for me to just sit and knit and enjoy time with my friends. You know what? I don’t work for free any more. I don’t want to go to a social gathering where I don’t get to be social. That’s not fun for me. Now I meet with some friends twice a week, and while we wouldn’t turn anyone away, we don’t make a point of posting about it everywhere. I’ve occasionally been asked by passers-by if I could teach them, and I’ve gotten stronger about saying that this meeting is more about being social for me, but if they’d like to set up a quieter time and space in which to learn, that I am available for one-on-one lessons. Nobody has ever gotten back with me about that. I’m OK with that.

Behold the cute new sugar bowls to go with the cute creamers at Wild Iris! Also behold the three gator planters, which have been there since before Christmas and haven’t sold. I KNOW, RIGHT?

Today is one of those days where I am extremely grateful to my grandmother for passing on this skill. And grateful to my family for raising me in an environment where it’s not strange to be creative as a job. And grateful to my husband for his support of and faith in me (as an aside, this and this gave me a good laugh, and Tim spent a good portion of yesterday calling me “hey, girl!”).

It makes me angry when friends of mine are shit on for no reason. I want to lay down some ass-whooping. Is that what a parent feels like when their kids are bullied?

Maybe I should have done this post in bullet-point form.

OK, back off to work. I have more yarn to wind!