Patternreview.com's 13th birthday party. We toured the McCall's pattern company, and there was fabric and wine and conversation and cake, and more fabric, and more wine, and a good time was had by all.
I treated myself to Amtrak home because I didn't feel like spending 2+ hours on the bus, but the train stopped somewhere around Trenton and I still ended up spending 2+ hours getting home, just in slightly more comfort.
I always look forward to going to New York, because I always go for some fun purpose: a play, an exhibit, a meet-up with friends. And I always come home grateful that I don't live there.
Manhattan wears me out. Too many people, too much traffic, too much noise. Too much much. Every time I go, I come home a little less hostile about Philadelphia, at least for a while. Here I may only be 4 feet from my neighbors, but it's better than 4 centimeters while trying to cross a street. I think New Yorkers have a bad reputation simply because they're guarding what little precious personal space there is left in that teeming city.
It usually takes a day or two for my brain to settle back down, to a point where I can hear myself think, to be able to write or come up with anything out of the ordinary.
I know people who live there. I know people who did, and wish they still did.
I will never be one of them.
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Thursday, November 13, 2014
|Take time to breathe|
But it’s really reinforced the fact that I don’t want to be in an office anymore.
Which is not to say that I won’t do this again, when funds are low and I get an offer I can work with, but I've discovered that getting by with non-traditional jobs is much more up my alley.
Mario and I recently did a homesteading workshop in upstate NY, and one of the things that I found most interesting was that the happiest people seemed to have no “traditional” jobs – the woman who ran the workshop has a small farm, a popular blog, has written several books, and teaches archery part-time at a local resort. She lives a small, local existence with barter (of goods or of her time) being a large part of her personal economy. Another presenter teaches, but also raises pigs, does pig roasts, writes and does lumberjacking. Other presenters also have several smaller income sources that add up to almost enough to get by, and that seems to satisfy them.
After 30 years of doing a job I never particularly enjoyed (but whose salary I was very attached to because of the life it gave me), I’m over it. Each year I worried about getting a good raise, and about whether or not a co-worker who didn't work as hard, but who was less prickly, was making more than I was.
But you know what? It doesn't matter what she made (though yes, it still irks me that she was paid more for doing less) because what I was making was more than enough for the life I wanted.
I’m currently making about half of my old office salary, and before you ask, yes, Mario does contribute to some household bills, but until his own house sells, he’s paying a mortgage and utilities on a place he’s not living in – and there’s no current tenant, either. So the bulk of the expenses (mortgage, utilities, food) is coming out of my income and savings. Things will even out at some point, but for now, it’s all good.
My main takeaway from how much my life has changed in the last year or two is this: What is my time worth? What do I need so badly that I’m willing to trade my time to earn the money to pay for it?
How we spend our time is how we spend our lives. I’m choosing not to spend mine trapped in a place where I’m not happy, not contributing anything and certainly not making anything.
I know everyone’s situation is different, and not every can – or wants to – walk away from a good 9-5 job, but this is where I am right now, and it works for me.
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
The buyer contacted me and said she's been keeping this sweater of her dad's since the 1970s and could I make two bears from it, one for her and one for her sister. She also included two monogrammed hankies, a pair of cuff links and two fire department sleeve patches, and told me to use whatever I chose out of the lot to make them special.
All the stories I get with these custom requests are touching, but is there any better way to get straight to my closely-guarded soft spot than a 40 years dead firefighter dad, and you're still holding on to his stuff?
I don't think so.
These will be special. For me as well.
Monday, November 3, 2014
First, a bear made from an argyle sweater. The buyer wrote to me and said that she lost her husband a few years ago, and has two small children. She and her husband were active in the youth ministry at their church, and children he mentored are now old enough to marry and have children. There's a baby due soon who is being named after her late husband, and she wanted to have a bear made for them from one of his sweaters, complete with monogrammed bib.
The two little bears are for her kids, because I remember how much it sucked to lose my dad, and at least I was old enough to have memories of him. These kids won't, but at least they'll have bears.
Lastly, a set of 3 bears. The purchaser there said that her mother was a very elegant, tasteful woman, and to prove it she sent me two of her mother's jackets, a dark purple and a black one. Very tasteful, very elegant. Very dark. I asked if I could add a third fabric to break it up, and chose a small floral that kept the dark tones but added enough light that you could actually tell the other two fabrics apart. Lilac bows and embroidery for the nose/mouth finish the brightening.
Saturday, November 1, 2014
Thursday, October 30, 2014
Although the kids' costumes can be cute (though how can there be that many girls who want to be Elsa? I counted at least 35), the dogs are my favorite.
Dogs have little enough dignity to start with. Once you dress them up, it's over.
There was a white French bulldog in a pink tutu, but I didn't get a photo. I think he was too embarrassed; every time I raised the camera, he slunk behind something. Other dogs weren't so modest (or perhaps self-aware).
My favorite kid costume was the brilliant version of Edward Scissorhands, complete with gloves that rattled and clanked every time he tried to move. But he wouldn't pose for his picture without them -- or without the Tootsiepop lodged firmly in one cheek.
It was a good day, sales-wise, but even better after several days of rain, it was bright blue and sunny and breezy. A perfect day to spend outside.
|The family that costumes together . . .|
|Everybody Loves Lucy|
Thursday, October 23, 2014
We talked shop a bit (she makes jewelry and we do a few shows together), and caught up on each other's news. I told her that I had gotten an agent for my book, and how hard it had been to take a chance and send out those query letters, and how good it felt to not have that fear holding me back anymore.
One thing I realized as we spoke -- we've known each other for five or six years, and during that time, I've gone from single and working a job I didn't particularly like, sewing for myself, and with a book hidden inside my computer, to married, (mostly) self-employed sewing for others, and with an actual honest-to-god literary agent.
If anyone had told me at 45 that my life would change this much in 5 years, I wouldn't have believed it.
Sometimes you just have to get out of your own way.