bekka

from crafter to businesswoman

Devoured Craft Inc.: Turn Your Creative Hobby Into a Business (2007) last night/this morning. It's probably the best book I've read on the subject.  Loved its cover; it's so mod. The fonts, graphics, and colors inside were fabulous, as well. And that meant a very aesthetic read. Ilasco's tone was nice and easy, yet informative. And who knew? I've been reading her blog for months and didn't connect the two.

There's a quiz you can take to test whether you are entrepreneurial material. I answered all questions correctly except the first one. It asks your approach to snowboarding. Would you (1) sign up for a class ahead of time, (2) wimp out and go sledding instead at the last minute, or (3) throw caution to the wind and go for it? I picked the last answer, but the first was the correct one because entrepreneurs aren't reckless and are always knowledgeable and skilled. Or some such.

Anyway, Ilasco covers all the basics and then some specifics. So it's the perfect book for those just starting out, or crafters needing to find their way out of a pickle. Or those wishing and dreaming for a creative job where they could produce and sell their handicrafts. Kind of like me.

Here's a list of what all she covers (and much, much, more): work space, your business identity, naming your business, marketing, the role of blogs, legal structures, record keeping, mission statements, market research, protecting your work, vendors, manufacturing, pricing/line sheets, trade fairs, consignment, retail shops, advertising, marketing, publicity, salespersonship, dealing with huge orders, burnout, balancing your business with parenthood, and quitting.

One of the features I appreciated most about the book was her Q & As with successful craft-to-businessfolk like Lotta Jansdotter, Jill Bliss, Sunshine's Scarves, Denyse Schmidt, In Fiore, port2port press, and Jonathan Adler, among others. And there was a bit of variety in the questions she asked each businessperson as well as variety of medium, so it wasn't like they were all tote bag makers or ceramicists, or jewelers. Although, I would have really loved to read answers to questions specifically dealing with designing, producing, and distributing a line of fabrics. Too bad she didn't interview Amy Butler or Heather Bailey.

One of the errors I found was in regards to Amy Butler's fabrics. You may recall the hubub surrounding copyright laws and use of fabrics that swarmed the crafty blogosphere a while back. Page 65 reads:

For example, Amy Butler's Design web site clearly states that her fabric is for noncommercial use only.

When in fact, her FAQs read:

Can I use Amy's fabrics to make projects to sell or use in manufacturing finished goods?
YES.

So. But those kinds of mistakes are easy to make. You know? Books go to press months in advance and a minimal change such as this cannot always be corrected. Also, at the back of the book, Ilasco includes

confessions of a button thief or, whose got the button?

Bought a sweet short-sleeved vesty-blousy thing at one of those chain stores that sells designer clothes on the cheap. Didn't try it on though. Didn't look it over well enough until I got home and discovered that one of its buttons was missing. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, except that there are seven buttons on this thing and the likelihood of my finding one matching one was...whew... impossible. And I didn't want to spend weeks searching for seven matching buttons, either.

Ian said I should return the item to customer service and let them deal with it. But I really wanted to keep the thing and I suspected that they'd make me give it back instead of presenting me with a replacement button and I'd be out this cute piece of clothing. And they'd be stuck with a shirt/vest with a missing button that they'd likely not send back to warehouse central, but put back out on the floor for some other hapless sucker customer to find, and buy, and be stuck with finding a matching button.

So, I returned to the store and I found a shirt like mine and took it into the dressing room along with a few other items. Tried on that shirt, pulled scissors from my purse, and cut off the button. Dropped it and scissors into my purse. Sewed it on one morning and I wore it Tuesday.

Am I evil? I honestly didn't think that customer service would serve my interests. It's a huge chain. I felt justified in my minor theft. No. Wait. I paid for that button when I bought the shirt.

But, do you think they'd make me stand out front of the store (it wasn't the evil W, btw) and wear a sandwich board reading "I am a button thief?"

a quilting we will go

Made this doll quilt for Rose because I drew her name in the Doll Quilt Swap II. Sometimes sewing is not a positive experience for me. This time it was and was not. Problems with my Singer abounded. I almost ran out of thread. I had to fiddle with my bobbin innumerable times.

Cutting out the quilt pieces was enjoyable, especially since I replaced the blade on my fabric cutter. But then after a while I decided that cutting out those pieces was odious and I only wanted to get on with the sewing.

My approach to arranging my fabric squares was based on Sudoku. Not so much, really. I mean, there weren't nine different patterned fabrics. I just didn't want like next to like. I accomplished that for the most part.

I was pleased with the colors and patterns I put together. Ahem. Don't think I did that. Really, I cannot take credit. The ladies at my quilt shop sold me the six or eight fat quarters tied in a handy bundle. I just picked it out and bought it and brought it home. I sat on said bundle for sometime, completely unsure what to use them for. Then this opportunity appeared. I love the oranges and brown, but c'mon, I wasn't going to keep all that pink for myself! However, lest you think I'm completely without fabric coupling skills, I selected the back from my stash. It's a darling white fabric dotted with brown birds and their hatching eggs. And I have at least a yard or two of that left!

Ummmmm. What else? There were a few mishaps. But I discovered them after the fact when addressing those problems would take way too much time and possibly destroy the quilt. Sure, it's filled with imperfections.

the back (love these little brown birds!)

And that's the worst thing about all this making of things: I want everything perfect. I expect perfection. Then when I don't produce perfection, I get all grumpy, because I'm better than that. I should do better. I can do better. I should be more careful and pay better attention to what I'm doing.

Usually I get over the perfection expectation quickly. Because I am human. And there are always mistakes. Isn't it the Amish quilters who leave in at least one mistake because taking pride in a perfect quilt is sinful? Then there's the bit about comparing your quilt to the quilts that others made. That's when I see how pitiful my attempts are and realize how truly average my endeavors are. Why go on? Oh my gosh. All those other quilts are really something. And mine is just like white bread or something. No jam. No butter. Not even toasted.

The binding was a mess. That's when my machine went rogue and needed service. Then finishing it a few days later...well, my process was interrupted and somehow I failed to re-engage with the quilt. So the binding looks raggedy. From a distance it looks pretty pulled together though. That's something, right?

Oops, I only noticed the dreadful smudge on my camera lens a few moments ago. How careless of me. It's gone now.

the quilt that Patty made

Anyway, here's the quilt sent to me from Ohio. Patty made it. She is blogless. I love it just the same. Its colors are so vibrant, yet classic, and patriotic, of course! Mostly I love those ladybugs. They aren't the typical ladybugs that are too cute for words. And believe me, I've collected a lot of ladybug fabrics of late in hope of starting a ladybug project for a ladybug lover, so I know.

Methinks I might try another quilt. This wasn't such a bad experience afterall. I have lots of quilt pieces I cut out and didn't use, though they're probably not enough for a bed-sized quilt, they might do for smaller quilted projects. But I might could manage a larger project. I get so discouraged with large projects though. I have a serious need to see progress and have a finished object in hand.

walk this town inside out

Tuesdays equal so many levels of frustration. First, there's just the feeling of misery I have each day when I drag myself out of bed and go to work. I have a peachy job. That's my mantra. It's boring though. And so lacking in creativity. Mind-numbing.

But that's beside the point. My main frustration at this moment is that I can't get Walk Score to tell me how walkable my house/neighborhood is. Their website relies on Google Maps and they are only allotted a certain number of look-ups on GM per hour. Anyone who knows where I live understands how un-walkable my city and neighborhood are. I'm deep in the heart of the ever-sprawling southeast. Besides all that, this is how they come up with your score: They assess the walkability by calculating how close you are to bars, schools, stores, parks, restaurants, libraries, and all that.

Oh, there it went. Out of 100, my neighborhood/house scored 25. So this could be a great tool to use should I ever want to move to a walkable neighborhood or a city that I know nothing about. So my score means that I have a Driving Only neighborhood. Here's how they define Driving Only neighborhoods:

Virtually no neighborhood destinations within walking range. You can walk from your house to your car!

In a perfect world I'd had multiple public transportation options at my toetips, or at least live in a foot-accessible neighborhood. How'd I end up living this life that I don't want? I don't want to drive my car everywhere. I don't want to use plastic containers. Vogue (yes, that's Winona gracing its cover) has an article about increasing rates of infertility in men and women. Much of those increased rates are attributed to chemical exposure, primarily through plastics and personal care products.

got colt?

As usual, couldn't wait to get away from work on Friday. Viva the weekend! Went to the stables just to hang out and groom and graze Dually. Saw Rebekah straddle two horses bareback and ride them around the barnyard. She loves riding bareback and says you really must learn excellent balance. Getting on the horse is no problem, but getting down can be dicey. I aspire to bareback riding. Rebekah is half my age and so much more accomplished than I. She works at the stables five or six days a week, at least through the summer and then she returns to school this fall.

Biscuit (or Easter) and Jim

My Netflix queue is western-heavy. Finished watching disc two of Lonesome Dove Saturday night. Earlier in the day, during my lesson, I asked Jim whether he named his stables Hat Creek Farm after the company in the book. He said yes. And he recommended the book over the movie; said the book was better. More trotting for me and a small bit of loping. Also asked about Bingo being apart from all the other horses. Bingo is the youngest colt at the farm. He's just over three months old and being weaned. He's a pitiful thing. He whinnies when animal or human nears the barn he's isolated within. But, he's got a goat in a stall to keep him company. Sure hope nobody gets his goat.

An Appaloosa

Didn't spend as much time at the farm as usual on Saturday. Dually's owner, Julie, had him saddled and took him out on the trail. She told me that Dually felt like he had bad luck that day because he was put to work instead of being pampered by my attentions.

Plus, I had to rush home to meet our lawn-mowing lady who was to come discuss landscaping with us. While expecting her call, or appearance, I cut down our nandina bushes in front and waited and waited. But she never called or stopped by. Ian and I ran errands and went to the grocery store. Then we met Ian's parents for dinner. They brought our nephew Mick. He was well-behaved, except for the time when mean old Barbara asked our server to take Mick's pacy to be dipped in hot water. Mick cried. Then he stopped when server returned freshly washed pacy. Ian and I shopped some more and then came home. He went to work. I finished the binding on my doll quilt. Hooray! The service charge for my sewing machine was not so bad. But I hate Singers. I'll never buy another. I only have eyes for Bernina.

Blogless Amy and I went junking on Sunday. First, we drove from Bristol to Kingsport in her convertible. Such a pleasant day, pleasant drive, in a pleasant car. Instead of having my hair whip around, I wore a tightly-crocheted cloche. When I removed it, the stitches transferred to my forehead. Lovely. Just one of the hazards of hat-wearing.

Lots of countryside to see. A few cows, even fewer horses. We had a late lunch at a Mediterranean restaurant downtown in Kingsport. The falafel was way spicy.

button bounty (or booty)

The we visited P&J Antiques. They had lots of great booths. Most were junk-free, which is not my normal experience of antique stores. I found two Ball jars filled with buttons.

Colt, or Filly, 45

And a colt. At one point the owner came around and asked if she could take my purchases up to the counter. I gave them to her and she mentioned something about my little dog.

"Colt," I called after her. "It's a colt."

What a sweet little colt. I want to take him with me everywhere. But wait. There is no genitalia on this horse. It could just as easily be a filly. Either way, I want to tie a thong to him/her and wear him/her around my neck. Wonder how that'd work out?

1920s-1930s Hohner

Then we returned to Bristol so BA could show me the accordion sitting in the front window of Grand Antiques on State Street. I was tempted. But its bellows mechanism was off. And when I pressed the piano keys down I got very little noise from it. And the price? Oh $425. That's way more than I paid for mine. Mine works. This one doesn't. This Hohner is smaller than mine. Nice straps though. And I wonder whether its keys are ivory. I emailed Linda and sent her this photo. She said it was a 1920s-1930s model. As well as this:

I really don't want it at half price.  Those accordions are not fun to play.  Ben Byers gave me one in much better condition, but it still is hard to play as the bellows are not tight and the edges of the instrument are sharp.  As far as real ivory keys, I don't think so.  I think they stopped using real ivory for pianos by 1900.  The real ivory keys I've seen are more transparent.

Sunday evening I hung out with Kelly. I brought my knitting just in case she was up for a lesson, but she was coming down with some sinus sickness. Instead, we ate tilapia and watched Man vs. Wild. It was my first time. The one survival tip my mom drilled into my head was that I should drink my pee if I was stranded without water and became dehydrated. That's what moms are all about: Ensuring the survival of their offspring.

goodbye week of troubled sewing

Last week was filled with sewing mishaps. I worked on my quilt for Doll Quilt Swap. And got it almost finished when disaster struck. My needle ground to a halt. I hate that wicked grinding noise. Had to take misbehaving machine to get it serviced. And getting it to come back home was difficult. Machine made friends with other worthless Singers and they wanted to band together in a wicked group so they could terrorize sewers everywhere. Trying to keep my composure in light of machine's ugliness was tricky. So finished up the binding last night and now have to figure out how to do a quilt label, as that is one of the requirements of the swap. Then I'll get that quilt on it's way to Washington tonight. Will be glad to have that monkey off my back. And then no more swaps for me. I want to concentrate on my own projects for months and months.

Haven't taken any photos of the quiltmaking process. Mostly because I thought about how contrived those photos would be. While it's quite natural for me to have a camera in the kitchen and snap shots as I cook, somehow it seems unnatural to do so with sewing or knitting. The styling and posing of fabrics or yarn at each step of the way is terribly contrived and time-consuming. I don't like being false in that manner. But when one blogs, sometimes unnatural things become standard. I remain ambivalent about it. Will eventually share a photo of the finished doll quilt, but must forewarn you that while I strive for perfection in my projects, they undoubtedly disappoint me. With the quilt, it seems smaller than I hoped for. And the binding looks awful. Grumble. All I've done all week is grumble. I'm happy with the colors and fabrics I chose and hope that Rose will be, too.

At least I can be mostly happy that the bag I finished for Cathy came out better than I expected. At least, the felting parts did. And I was happy with the lining, even though that was tricky, too. Ended up cutting it down a few times and splicing together the sides because the pattern I made from drawing an outline around the bag's exterior was quite off. The handles are nice but my placement of them was just slightly off center for reasons I don't want to bore you with, but seemed like the best solution to another problem. But it was too late to do anything about it; once those stitches are in, they're not coming back out. Still, it's a highly functional bag. And I liked the design and ease of felting of the pattern so much that I bought enough cascade 220 to make another. Maybe not for me though. I have someone in mind.

Also bought 2 skeins of Noro Kochoran (color no. 47) at LYS. Wasn't in them market for Noro. But these colorways spoke to me. Entered my mind and demanded I take them home. Plan to make another simple scarf. Those are my standard projects to knit when I'm floundering for a new project and don't want to finish an old one instead.

giddyup and knit

Gosh, where does the weekend go? I knitted! Really, I did, I did.

Had my accordion lesson Thursday. Took fabulous photos of sunflowers growing in my teacher's organic garden while I waited for her to finish up with her piano student whose lesson is before mine. Lots of bees buzzing and an amazing number of yellow finches darting here and there in and out of the flowers. And she has dozens of cool signs peeking in and out of her rows that read "Give Peas A Chance" and "Squash Intolerance." She asked me to come pick blackberries from her bushes soon. And I will. I can already taste the blackberry cobbler.

In riding/ horsey news, I formally learned to trot on Saturday. Clarification: I didn't trot, but Biscuit did as I rode him. Biscuit falls behind on our trail rides and then does the mad trot to catch up and press his nose into Chico's tail. Which Chico, no doubt, does not care for one bit. I'm still learning to keep Biscuit at the right distance. So I've trotted on several occasions, quite without having learned to do so.

Horses make a landscape more beautiful. ~Lame Deer

Anyway, there were three uphill areas where we trotted. Jim told me to gather the reins in my hand, put my weight on my feet in the stirrups and follow him closely. It was fun, and the tiniest bit scary. I held on to my saddlehorn like, yes, like a greenhorn. Eventually I'll figure out the balance thing. And then on the last trot Biscuit's gait morphed into a lope. And I recognized its difference from the trot and was unsure how to adjust my balance to best correspond with Biscuit's movements.

In Western riding the terminology goes like this: Walk, Trot, Lope, Gallop. Only we won't ever gallop. Jim says a galloping horse is one who is out of control. But loping, I could like.

Then later on Saturday, after I tried to nap, cause riding wears me out,  I met a few other accordionists at Linda's for an accordion jam session. Imagine it! I met Derrick, who is from the UK, Bob, who got a sweet 32-bass accordion from Idaho via eBay, and Katy, whose father works with Ian at the railroad. I kept up with the others for the most part. But then in some of the last songs I took breaks because I wasn't familiar with the music and didn't want to bring my fellow accordionists down with my fumbling notes. There's talk of us going round to the old folks' home near Christmastime to entertain them. So there's the possibility that I may be a member of an accordion band; my first band-membership ever! Just hope I have some day in naming us.

Yesterday I made a summer squash casserole and we used our new grill for the first time. Also trimmed my boxwoods with a heavy gas-powered hedge trimmer. My forearms and back are sore today. Filled up my bird feeders, cleaned out the bird bath, and raked up the boxwood trimmings. Did four or five loads of laundry. Then folded and put those away. Packed up two shopping bags full of mass market paperbacks to take to the used bookstore so I can give the store credit to my sister. Yeah, if I could actually rest on Sundays, then the day would be perfect. But Sundays are when I catch up on all the things that have fallen by the wayside throughout the week.

Call me a reluctant felter. Because most of my felted projects have turned out poorly. Boy have I felted. I'm making a Noni bag (Moss & Pistachio Striped Bag)for my Tote Exchange partner. The bag felted up miraculously well. So well that I'm considering making another! The flowers came out like hideous beasts. And this was late Friday or Saturday, can't remember. But when I set about to make new flowers to felt, my LYS was closed, of course. My options were: Drive to Asheville in hopes of finding shades of purple Cascade (which LYS store didn't have to begin with and that's why I used a yarn that didn't felt well) or find something that might work in my stash. Luckily, I had a delightful shade of purply malabrigo in said stash that I bought in New Orleans last June. Knitted up new flowers with that and will felt them tonight and finish the bag in the next day or so and send it north to Ohio. Working with the Malabrigo is just what I imagined it would be like: A Dream. I'm sure it will felt up beautifully. And I'm already thinking of other felting projects I can use my Malabrigo stash with .

And speaking of my sister: Got a text message from her saying that she's moving in with me in September. I'm not quite sure what that means. Will she completely move in? Or just stay through the week? Ian and I chatted about our expectations. Like, she cannot bring her cat, and other things. This means that I've got to clean out that closet and the bookshelf and the dresser thats in the room she is to stay in. Anyone have any recommendations for dealing with 15-years-younger sisters coming to live with them? She'll be 21 in November.

Spent time with Kellie and Jim on Sunday at a pizza place and also at Starbuck's. I sipped iced tea. Coffee doesn't do a thing for me. Almost can't bring myself to drink it. They regaled me with tales from their their expat lives in Doha and Kabul. Kellie tolerated our talk about libraries. She hears it often enough from her DH who is also a librarian. Btw, if you haven't seen or heard about it already, there was an interesting artcile called "A Hipper Crowd of Shushers" in the NYTimes last week. It was one of their most popular outgoing links.

Then last night I couldn't turn off Law & Order Criminal Intent (USA plays episodes back to back and I find them difficult to resist) and wanted desperately to knit something, so I started a simple scarf (like I made here and here). Had enough yarn to get a good start, but then ripped out a fingerless glove for its yarn. Wasn't going to make the mate for it, so it's better that the yarn be used in something else, like another scarf.

And finally, it's down to the wire for my Doll Quilt swap. Lots of pattern ideas and fabric combinations running through my head, but I've put off the making long enough. It's got to go to Seattle on Wednesday. I'll have a busy couple of days after which I can do nothing at all for a great while.

camping horror stories

There's a story I have about a whacko camping experience I survived several years ago, when I still had friends who hiked and camped. They all grew up and moved away. Anyway, if you love camping, you should share your story, too, because you could win a two-person Coleman tent, an acrylic cocktail set, and a copy of a book filled with camping tales, Let's Get Primitive.

Found via 52 projects.

cookie dreams into reality

When meeting Cookie became more of a reality than a dream, I started wondering what I'd wear to our lunch. And then I couldn't find my favorite mascara and I wondered if I'd be plagued by all sorts of other minor frivolities and thus be freaked out by the time 1:10 pm came and I'd meet Cookie in person.

Thursday morning when I left for work Ian told me to tell Cookie hi. He's not worried about me meeting people I've only met online. After all, the first time I met Jessamyn in person was when she appeared at my door after emailing to ask if she could stay a night on her drive cross-country.

And you know what? I think I forgot to tell Cookie that Ian said hi.

Anyway, it was a delightful almost-two hours. I hated to run but had to return to work. Cookie is even more amazing in person than she in on her blog. I could talk to her for hours and hours and still find things to talk about.

Oh, and she gave me some of the loveliest gifts that I've been too lazy to photograph. A gorgeous knitted ribbon scarf, nail polish in a subtle shade (that OPI is fabulous at home as well as at the manicurist's!), a reusable Trader Joe's grocery bag, and a sweet reading journal. She was so generous. Wow. Of course, I had a little something for her, too. A new lip balm and some stitch markers. But they paled in comparison to her gifts.

write myself a letter

The number of first class letters mailed in the United States in 1994 was 55 billion. Last year it was 42 billion. That's a decline of thirteen billion letters.

Sure, it's probably good news for trees. But for people? It must be depressing to open your mailbox and find nothing personal inside. Bills are pretty personal, but besides the occasional card, who writes letters anymore?

I'm good about sending postcards when I travel. I love postcards, I collect them, even.

Occasionally I write an actual letter. Kelli pointed out the letter-writing initiative that the Fetzer Institute is sponsoring. And I started this post on 7/16 and planned to write a letter, then include a photo of said letter simply for illustrative purposes. But haven't found time to do that so far.