Monthly Archives: March 2013

True Story

It was a dark, damp, creepy morning.  Braving the elements I crept outside, giving my all, to make sure my faithful canines were well taken care of.  My Belgian Malinois on one side, my Australian Cattle dog on my other side.  Carefully we made our way down to their yards, cautiously keeping our eyes peeled for any sign of trouble.

Quickly it leapt from the shadows, some mysterious creature, with fangs a foot long, dripping with crimson.  I could tell it wanted my precious four-footed friends, and I was prepared to stop it.

I leapt towards it, as it snarled at me, grabbing it’s gnarly, slimy fur in my fingers.  I pulled and pushed, as it slashed at me with its dagger like claws.  I punched, and jabbed, as it fought back.

My canines faithfully snapped at the horrific creature, as it fought me with all its might.  But I commanded them to stay back out of harm’s way.  The creature pounced on top of me, crashing me to the ground, its rancid drool, hanging dangerously close to my face.  I closed my eyes, preparing to deal it one last brutal blow.  And with all my might I shoved my fist deep into it’s gut, sending the rabid creature screaming into the woods.

{I swear that’s what happened yesterday.  Honest to gawd and such.  That’s why my leg is all black and blue.  That’s why I can’t move any muscle in my entire body.  Honest.  Because we all know my husband’s lovely dog is so well-trained that he would never run after a damn shadow and knock me into the air, to land square on my back.   Ugh.}

The end.

 

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~Free Stuffs~

I’m in the middle of stepping up my “goods” on Etsy.  By stepping up I mean my arms are falling off from working on full sized blankets, cable knitted scarves, and snazzy things that take lots of work.  And all of this takes oddles of time.

While I’m taking oddles of time to make all of these detailed, anal retentive type objects, I’m working away in the mornings on basic items to fill my shop.  Because you can’t sell things if there’s nothing to sell, and yada yada yada.

And this is where the Free Stuffs come in.  While all this madness is going on I need to still consider promotions, getting my name out there and stuffs.  ‘Cept between everything else I seem to be running out of “free” time in which to promote.  So I’m turning to you, and waving free stuffs in front of your nose.  😉

I have these:

headband

 

That are getting ready to enter my shop soon.  They are 100% cotton, hand knit, workout/yoga headbands.  Less than 2 inches wide, these are more like the nylon ones you’d buy at the store, than the big thick ear warmers you normally see.  The cotton is gentle on hair, and absorbs sweat, while fully washable.  The cinch part can go on the top of your head, or at the back of your head, depending on your tastes.

I’m looking for a few bloggers who’d like to try one out in the color of their choice, then blog them up, and possibly (possibly meaning reviews and blogging them up with no giveaway is fine too) give one away to their readers.  You don’t personally need to pick one out for you!  It can be for your daughter, grand daughter, whomever.

If you’d like more information please feel free to contact me at jemily383 (at) gmail (dot) com.

Thanks!  *hurries back to work*

I’m Cancelling Summer

flowers1

I couldn’t be more excited.  I’m cancelling summer!  Yup, you read that right… I’m cancelling the whole dang thing!

Okay, so I’m not actually cancelling the season known as summer, that would be crazy talk, and it’s my favorite season.  I’m cancelling MY summer, my demands, my expectations, my normal go-to plans.

I’m calling off the usual spring rush of starting seedlings, and buying new chicks. I’m calling off summer camp for the boy.  I’m calling off the massive dreams of finally fixing up our yard.  Done.  Deleted.  Ain’t gonna happen.

I’m letting the sunny days free fly around here.  We’re gonna do, or we’re gonna do not.  We’ll sip lemonade, and not worry about catching that dang bus for summer camp.  We’ll roll in the grass, and practice our taekwando moves in the sprinkler.

I’m going to play in my garden, and flip the bird to the dang drought we’ve been predicted to have, once again.  No buying seed, no buying plants.  It’s a season to create pretty walkways, and fences, and dance with the kids.

We’ll doodle in notebooks, and color with chalk on the driveway.  We’re gonna grill, and burn our tongues on marshmallows.  That ugly coop, it will get finished someday, and when it does, we’re gonna paint murals in it, with finger paints… because we can.

I’m going to create.  And I’m going to have that date with me, under that big shade tree, while I throw that stupid to-do list into the bonfire.  Because I am cancelling summer.

 

 

 

What If

I’ve been thinking a lot lately.  That’s the kind of thing that happens while you sit at your desk, knitting until your fingers and wrists go numb, watching millions of images load ever so slowly on your dino-dial-ups for Pintrest.  There’s been topics fluttering in my mind, words to mash out on this blank screen… but knitting doesn’t work well with typing.  You loose your count and your train of thought all at one time.  Trust me.

And it’s hard to work on this, when you need to work on that.  Priorities wrestle with wants.  Needs fling mud at desires.  Options and choices wrestle in the jello pit that once was a functional brain.  Everything fights you, time, budgets, noises, small people wanting things.

It’s like the first time I looked into selling handmade goods on Etsy, they say, “Choose one medium”.  Choose one.  Like that’s possible for me.  I can knit, crochet, draw, paint, sew, quill, carve, stamp, shape… not that I have valuable skills in every form, but choosing one is like asking me if I want to keep my right or my left leg… um, all please?

I want to do it all, because what if I choose the wrong one?  My hobby is hobbies.  But I want one to be mine.  Or at least three.  Maybe four.  My hard limit is at nine, honestly.

And somehow this all links back to writing.  What if.  I mean really, what if?  What if while I’m busy training dogs (or not so busy, thank you economy), and knitting my fingers off to pay the bills, supporting my writer friends, promoting them, blogging about nothing, chasing kids, trying to make a garden/homestead on a rock bed, pretending I know how to sing for the fake band… What if, deep in my computer’s files, laying in wait, is the next big thing.  And in my interview with Ellen (because Oprah erks me to no end) she asks how long it took me to write this book, that instantly sold out, and the movie rights were bought before it was even published… I have to say, twenty years.  And I have to admit that for 19 of those years it was sitting there in my computer’s memory, because I was too friggen scared/hard on myself to even try.  And she’s going to laugh and call me cute, while holding up one of my washcloths and make some cute joke about loving Jesus and drinking beer.

Okay so I doubt that’s how anything would unfold.  But what if?

But where’s the time?  And where the frick, is the confidence?  Because all I know is that them washcloths will not make themselves.  And sitting here, typing about what if’s does not pay the bills.

*pours more coffee*