Christmas Wishes

Hello, dear friends,

For almost a month now, I have been living at my new place. I like it here: it's clean, simple, and quiet. I have access to all the necessities - such as hot shower, kitchen, and laundry facilities - and there is also internet access, but without a computer, it is not much use to me. I look at it as a hidden blessing: no internet - no distractions... It only took me a week and a half to finish a stitching commission once those distractions were eliminated - and that 's saying something in favor of just working and concentrating on the task at hand.

Work is steady, busy - but not overwhelming, and I am grateful for that. I like working, the feeling of being useful, productive, necessary to the process. I like my time off too, though, it gives me a chance to be productive on my own terms, in my own life: moving along with stitching projects, goals, things to be done...

Some time ago, an acquaintance asked me, "So how does it feel to start over at the age of 38?" I thought, "Start over? I am not starting over, I am moving on." Indeed, starting over would have to mean time rolling back, children back in diapers - in need of a sitter on a daily basis, - and me - yes, younger, but also without all the acquired experience of the past 14 years. It is because of life experience that I do not consider these years wasted, and I would not give it up for the place in a younger age bracket.

Today is my day off from work, and I decided to go to the library and write. Except - I forgot to bring my "Stick" drive, so there is no way to save what I would have written - on anything...  Darn you, memory. That's what I get for wanting to try out a new accessory: something crucial is always left behind, in the "old reliable" handbag.

On Friday, my daughter and I went to see "Collateral Beauty." Vera wanted to see it because "Will Smith is awesome" and because of the story. Originally, I voted for "Beasts and Where to Find Them" - to get my "Harry Potter junkie" fix - but "Beauty" in the end was a better choice. In life, when we face the Three Abstractions, we are often too absorbed in the problem to notice when these very Abstractions materialize in front of us and lend a helping hand. When we do notice - and take their advice - life improves... hopefully. In any case, we learn, and, as de Laclos wrote, "education is never a loss."

Christmas is almost here. This year, I am getting my loved ones what they need - and reward myself with the gift of their company. I am looking forward to making the memories, for experiences and memories are the only real things that we possess. In the end, these are the things that make our life richer - and we can take them with us wherever we go. So, this Christmas - and New Year's - I will meet with the people I love. May we come together in the New Year - and may our bond grow stronger with Love and Time, and never be broken - not even in Death.

Until next time,

Parenting Questions, Trust and Honesty (Attempt at Self-Therapy).

Hello, dear friends,
Today I have a day off, - a day to relax, think and feel whatever I want, do (almost) what I want, without being rushed.
During the past week, I finished a stitching project and started a new one. (Sorry, no pictures at this time). Went on the "work-home- stuff to do-things to clean- things to stitch" merry-go-around. Today is the day I can get off and reclaim some of myself.

I am sitting here, thinking that I need a strong cup of tea - possibly with milk - and wondering: am I a good parent? My partner of 13 years "dropped" this on me (about our separation), and it stuck: "As for the kids being happy, yeah, they're happy, no more of having rules, mom turned into their best friend, I am sure it will all turn out fine, unless one day you actually make them be responsible for something."

While my first reaction was to consider the source - look who's talking, some example of stellar parenting, look at your own sons etc., etc.... But - it did bring up one question: am I a good parent - or not? How do I know?

In the past four months, I had to say "no" more times than I said "yes" to my daughters, and often they got upset. They are teenagers, and teenagers don't like to hear the word "no." Well, nobody does, really. But adults - hopefully - have the strength and the skills to control their emotions, while teenagers often show you all they've got - all the upset, anger, disappointment - and all the other negative feelings they have had stored, and you get to be the unfortunate recipient of all that garbage - because you said no. Surprisingly, I have had strength enough (sometimes barely) to deal with those tantrums. I was strong and unwavering: "No, you cannot get a new dress. No, there will be no going to any sleepover until after the chores are done, the laundry is put away, the homework is finished..."

Yet, at times I said "yes." Yes, you can walk home with a friend. Yes, you can stay after school for practice. Yes, we can go out to Subway - at the end of the week... And occasionally, I even changed my "no" to a "yes" - because the chores actually got done...

But parenting is not just the list of "yes" and "no" answers, is it? Things could look wonderful and perfect (or near perfect) on the outside, and yet there still would be problems...  Just look at Mia from "Californication" : a perfectly well-behaved 16 year old girl, a respectful daughter- who also happens to be... a slut and a manipulator. Yet, her father is blissfully unaware.

I know that my daughters are far from perfect. I am aware that one of them is arrogant, the other could be lazy. But it is up to me to stay alert and to notice when these "bad" qualities rare their heads - and point it out to each one of them as effectively as possible. Does it work? I can only hope. Just like I can only hope that I am doing a decent job at this whole "parenting" thing. In the end, time will tell. Some five, six, or ten years from now, when I look at my daughters, I will get my answer - probably in a single moment. Until then, I will have to wait for that moment as patiently as I can, and do the best job as I can.

One thing I have (I believe) on my side is honesty: I have never knowingly lied to my children. And in return, they don't lie to me. OK, they lie - about things like feeling sick so they can skip school, - but not about the big, important things. (Right now I am thinking - boy I wish that what I am writing is actually true, and not my own delusion). Well, at the very least - I know they trust me with real problems. There have been times when one or the other - or both of them - came to me for advice when they did not know what to do, how to handle things, or "just to talk" (which usually means the problem is bigger than just "what to do" and may require a few cups of tea with cookies - just to start discussing). I think - I believe - this trust between us is the direct result of mutual honesty.

This, of course, does not mean that I am certain of anything, or know what I am doing, or "permanently comfortable" with my decisions or actions. Every decision involves questions, doubts, and often - after making it - the "after"-doubts: did I make this one right? Could I do it better? I try my best to be honest with myself, so that when I do make a mistake, next time - hopefully - I can avoid it.

This brings me to the (hopefully) last topic of this post - trust. Trust is built on honesty like a house built on a foundation. If there is no honesty - there will be no trust. There may be an illusion of it, but the truth eventually comes out, lies get exposed - and the whole house crumbles and falls apart - and then you discover that there is no foundation, - there is no honesty. So, when my partner says, "I know I lied in the past, but trust me, I will not do it again!" - I can't. In fact, I can't even process it. How can you demand that I just build this "house" of trust with no foundation? It's just not possible.

Honesty - with others and with oneself - is the most important quality of them all. Being honest with myself - for me- means knowing what the truth is - and being able to face it, admit it, say it to myself. If I am not honest with myself, how do I even know what is the truth - and what is not? So, when someone says to me, "I lied to myself for the past (x-number of) years, but I want you to trust me, because I am getting better" - I think, "I am glad that you are starting to work on that, but if you have been lying to yourself for so long, how do you even know when you are telling the truth?" In this state of mind (I suspect), one is capable of believing anything: if one believes it, it must be the truth. And if one chooses not to believe it - then poof! - it never even existed. Magic...

Trust is the direct result of honesty. There are people out there that I do not particularly like, but I would trust them with my life - because they have always been honest with me. Then again, there are people I may like very much, but as much as I like them, I know not to trust them - because they lied.

Now that I have typed my brains out, it's time for a cup of tea...

Until next time,

A Home Within

Hello, dear friends,

Once again, it has been a while. All the life changes have taken me away from this blog and from sharing. Most of my days are filled with job search, interviews, online and paper applications, and talking to various workers. Add to that public bus system to rely on, stitching at night and on weekends, plus cleaning and cooking - and you have the picture. A swirl of new experiences...

On May 1st, it will be three months since my husband and I separated. All the news - and changes that come with it - hit me all at once, so I had to focus on immediate survival needs first. My soul went into shock, and every time I wanted to think about what happened - and what I learned - the voice inside my head would say, "Not now, a little later, when the basics are out of the way." I did not cry - or, at least, not in plain view. Occasionally, I would start tearing up in the shower - but those "waterfalls" did not last long. I would not let myself dwell on "all that" because, frankly, I was afraid to come unglued. I suspected that, once I started "addressing" everything that went on, I would start crying, screaming, cursing, and  then - who knows when I would stop... Nervous breakdowns need to be handled in a controlled atmosphere, such as the therapist's office, mental health clinic etc... Coming unglued in the middle of a work day - or a job interview - is not beneficial to anyone.

Eventually, I found a good therapist. I expected for things to start pouring out of me, but - they did not. I still have not cried, although sometimes I felt like it. Perhaps, my body does not want to switch from "defense" mode - after all, I don't know that person very well yet, it has only been - what? - two weeks.. He is just another guy with an opinion. So, even reactions to his suggestions are delayed; I noticed that I would say, " I will think about it," store his suggestion somewhere in the back of my mind, and then, about 24-48 hours later, my actual response would start forming... Sometimes it's as simple as "you've got a point," other times my response is "mind your own business." I know one thing: if I make any permanent changes to my situation, it will come from me, and I will do it if and when I am ready.. (Currently, it feels like "when" rather than "if", but I am certainly going to take it one step at a time - because in the end, I am the one who will have to deal with the consequences).

One realization has hit me through the whole experience: in all this, I am all alone. Especially I feel it when people tell me that I can rely on them, that I am not alone, that I have support. Don't get me wrong, I do have support and help - from Social Services programs, from the Job Center, from my therapist, - and I am grateful. I get professional help. On a personal level, though, I am a lone warrior. And it feels like in this aspect, I am different from anyone else I know.

Most of my "friends" and acquaintances - here in town - have family and friends. That means, if the proverbial shit hits the fan and they feel they can't deal with life any more at some particular moment - they have a safe place to go to. If life gets to be too much, they can hide from it. Not me. I don't have a place like that in my life, come to think of that, I am not sure I ever had. Last time I felt I could "go somewhere safe" was when I was about 3 years old, and the place was (of course) Grandma's. Since then, I have felt on my own. There is no unconditional love in my life; I may feel it (for my children, although I try not to get carried away), but I doubt anyone feels it for me. If I "lose my cool," no one will run to the rescue. If they do, they will have their own - often deeply hidden - reasons. "When the rabbit cries, the fox comes a-running - but not to help."

Perhaps, that is one single reason I keep myself together: I know that deep inside, nobody really cares. The people that do care - my children - will get affected by my "meltdown" in such a way that may be irreparable.. and it won't help anyone, especially not me.

I am alone, and that is a fact. I don't have a home - I live in a house, but it's not mine, and has never been. Most importantly - I don't have a safe place in this world, a place to call home. On the inside, I am homeless. And that is, unfortunately, also a fact.

Perhaps, when I am ready, I can start working on building that safe place for myself - on the inside, and (who knows?) - on the outside, too. It's all a process.. One step at a time.

Until next time,

Day Two and Three and the Good Old Days

Hello, dear friends,
For the past couple of days, I have been stitching on the "Twelve Days of Christmas." This is where I was on it two days ago.

The picture does not do the colors justice. I blame the weather: it's so gloomy and cloudy... And when I take a picture without a flash, it looks like it's been taken in the dungeon; when I use the flash - it wants to "flash out" everything to bright whites.

Here's one of the "dungeon" photos. I am stitching this with three threads over two, using Nancy Turner's home dyed threads.

Over the past week, I have also been listening to books: "Breakfast of Champions" and "Help". Each book is mind expanding in its own way. I keep thinking about the phrase "the good old days": "In the good old days, we used to..."  Or, "Those were the good old days!" I don't think that "the good old days" ever actually existed. Every year, every day in history past and present is filled with so many events, most of them are disturbing and troubling. The only place "the good old days" exist is in our minds. The more open our minds are, the less comforting the world feels.

A few days ago, I spent the whole day stitching and listening to an audio book. Nothing else existed but the project and the book... It was very comfortable. I only accepted what I chose to accept, believed what I chose to believe. Anything I did not want to exist, did not. And it was so pleasant... No worries, no troubles. No questions...

That is how it must be for someone with a closed mind. When you believe only what you choose to, know exactly how things are - and don't feel you need any additional information. You know everything you want to know. Nothing else in the world matters.

Next day, though, I had to get back to reality. I found out that on my very comfortable "good old" day, several things happened. First, David Bowie passed away. One of my friends is getting a divorce. The package I sent out got lost in the mail, and the kitchen sink got over full with dishes.

But, until I chose to learn of these things, my day was perfect. My life was perfect. I think our comfort in life depends on our level of acceptance of things. The more we accept, the more we learn - the more troubling our existence becomes. That is why life for an open minded, educated person is so much more complicated than for a closed minded one. It's a matter of choice, I suppose. And a matter of influence. How many things that go wrong are in our control to correct?

After two hours of frantic phone calls, I was able to locate the package and verify that it's on its way to the recipient. I washed the dishes and straightened up my kitchen... But David Bowie is dead. And my friend is still getting a divorce. I have to keep reminding myself that it's not my battle, not my problem. There is nothing I can do, and even if I could, it's not my place. Not my battle.

Kurt Vonnegut's "Cat's Cradle" is the next on my listening list. I can only imagine what kind of thoughts it will inspire.

Until next time,

Happy 4th of July!

My dear friends,
Happy Independence Day!

Design by Nancy Turner

I hope you have a wonderful time with your family and friends. Originally, I had big plans about cooking- and eating, but my DH has to work all day, so- instead I will just go to the gym, then stitch and cook dinner. Oh, and hide my cats away from the fireworks.

Still, even with my children away (girls are visiting family) and having to work, it's a special day. A day when the colonies decided to do "their own thing" and declared their independence from England. Ever since I came here - about 20 years ago - I felt that doing one's own thing is the main theme, the corner stone of this society. Becoming independent and making one's own decisions, becoming an adult is what the colonists have done as a country, and now perhaps it's their spirit that calls each one of us to do the same thing - on an individual level.

So, barbecues and fireworks aside, today I will be thinking about - what it means to be independent.

Have a wonderful holiday! 

Egyptian Zodiac - and More

Looks like it has been a month since my last post. Time for an update!

First of all, stitching news... I have been working on the Gemini pattern by Julie Hasler, from her Fantasy Cross Stitch book. My daughter is a Gemini, and I want to finish it in time for her birthday.

This is the most recent progress pic..Since it was taken, I have already stitched more. Some day I will stitch all twelve Zodiac patterns from that book. They are the best ones I have ever seen.

In addition to that, I have several work-related projects going... These mostly are exercises in patience and self-development... the first one I am running extremely low on.

Now on to the "more" part of the post. Even as I was typing this, I had to pause - where to start? It's like a great big concrete wrecking ball that keeps hitting me and knocking me down, all the problems and feelings about the problems tangled and solidified together and turned on me.

The short story is - I am depressed. (In my head, a voice immediately pipes up, "Who isn't?") Nothing special, right? In our day and age, every other adult and - seems like - every third child - has that. I am just one of many.

Of course, telling myself this does not help dealing with it. Not having any friends does not help, either. I feel invisible. Nobody comes, nobody calls, nobody cares. ( A voice hackles: "You are not alone - you have "Nobody.")

I do have a social life. People talk to me online. Several online friends with the shared stitching passion ("addiction," the inner voice quickly adds) send online messages. A wonderful "pen pal" lady friend from Denmark writes regularly - and I respond, also regularly. Individuals from other states talk to me about stitching projects. I even have a magazine subscription.  All the connections, all the projects, all the messages and letters say - you are not alone, you do have friends - and a full life.

Then I look around me - and no one is there. It is as if all this busy life I live has been imagined. Except the letters - and the magazine subscription - I have no tangible proof of it. I have never met most people I converse with face to face, and the ones I have - not in the past 20 years. In the back of my skull, a thought is knocking, waiting to get out, "Is it real, or is it all in my head?"

The answer to this question has been given to Harry Potter by Dumbledore (or by J.K. Rowling): "Of course it's all in your head. But why should that mean it isn't real?"

I have noticed that for several years now, when my depression gets bad, I want to re-read ( or re-listen) Harry Potter books. For a while I thought it was because of the "magical world" and witches and wizards... But the last two books of the series seem to have less to do with magic - and more with loss, depression, death... The "comforts" of the magical world become more of an accessory to the real problem of the heroes - dealing with death, and the reality of dying.
I have suspected this for a while (except I always substituted "death" and "dying" with "reality of life"), and when I saw a long interview with J.K Rowling about creation of Harry Potter books, I confirmed my ... suspicions. Perhaps this is the reason I choose the series when I feel the worst - I can relate to the characters's fears, panic, numbness... Plus, there is no patronizing in the voice of the narrator - so often present in many other works - and other people.

Other people - the ones that know what I am dealing with - have been coming up with suggestions.
"Get out more."
"Meet new people."
"Do things."

From the end: I already do things. There are no new people here, and they have nothing I am interested in.  Why????

Indeed, there are no people - let alone groups of people - near me that share my interests. See - it's not a matter of being "unfriendly" or mean - it's just after the first ten minutes we would have nothing to say to each other. So - why waste my time (and theirs) - just to say hello?

I am making my life and my friends. Unfortunately, they just happen to be thousands of miles away. I feel like I live on a deserted island - and, for all purposes, I do. I am isolated from people that may be close to me in spirit - by distance, and from people that are near me - by the non-sharing of interests. Complete and total isolation.

If you have read this to the very end - thank you. Until next time, I will be on my island, stitching.

Book Thoughts...

Just a quick post about my activities besides stitching. Right now it's tax return time, which for us means paying bills, buying necessities and loading up on books for the rest of the year.
For some time now, I have wanted to read the new book by J.K. Rowling. After the Harry Potter series, she wrote "The Casual Vacancy", a novel for adults. Unlike her previous, magical books, this one is very real-life, down-to-earth, serious and in the end tragic story about life in a small town. As the characters get introduced, described and developed, each one of their situations is woven into the whole picture, making it more tangled and complicated. Neighbors and friends scheme against each other; relatives deceive each other; children lie and scheme against their parents - and each character is wrapped in own illusions, lives in his or her custom world, until a real tragedy happens and two children die. Their deaths strip the pretense off the rest of the town and force the real colors to come through the appearances.... In the end, everyones' lives are   changed.... whether they realize it or not.

   (One strange detail: somehow through all the tragic events of the story I kept wanting to drink tea. Every time I started a new chapter, my hand would almost automatically reach for the teacup and then some cookies. The novel's story is anything but cozy, but J.K Rowling's descriptions transport one into that small town, with its cobblestone square, tiny tea and coffee shops, deli and restaurant, with all its smells, sounds, talk and gossip. Tea seems a necessity in this atmosphere, not unlike when watching "Midsomer Murders": small cozy-looking square, people bustling around, then - there is a dead body! Oh no, how horrible! Would you like a spot of tea? )))

   The most surprising - horrifying? - part of the story for me was the circumstances that led to the death of a 3-year-old boy. He was left unattended, walked over to the river and drowned - a tragic.. accident? Yes, of course. But it was not the moment of his death that horrified me - that was the final strike, the blow that gave the shock, but not the feeling of horror; it was the behavior of the people around him. The entire time, this boy was surrounded by people, by adults. He was seen marching to the river, straight to his death, as it turns out, and none of them asked themselves: why is this boy alone? Where are his parents? Why is he so dirty? Maybe I should stop him and call someone? No, these townsfolk - friendly and proud of their home and full of "community spirit"  - did not  even pause to do anything for one of their own, the smallest and the most helpless of them. They simply chose to - ignore him and go on with their lives. Their  behavior, in the end, is what caused the tragedy. Under the warm glaze of community spirit and smiles there is the cold, hard indifference, and the realization of that sends chills down my back.

Image from MTV.com

   Well it was meant to be a quick post, but when I start on books, there is no stopping me.. I will end this (soon) with a suggestion: if you have not read this book yet, then do - it's going to make you think... And  if you already have, then let me know your impressions.

Stitching and Family Update

Hello, here I am! I know it has been about three months since my last post, but I promise you - I am alive and well.... Busy, tired, often sleep-free, but basically well....
So, what have I been up to these past three months? Let me see.... Mostly stitching! Here are the new things I have stitched - for myself and for my shop...

Looks a bit like mismatched puzzle pieces, doesn't it? That's what my head feels like, too. After several months of order stitching my dreams got filled with cross stitch; my nightmares consist of broken needles and ripped threads; every time I look at anything, I automatically see it as a chart.... 

I had to do something, and I did. I took a couple days off, and I stitched a small piece from Little House Needleworks - her free Christmas pattern. Just what I needed! 

Here it is...

Originally it had more hearts, and the saying said "Happy Hearts", but hearts is not usually my favorite motif, so I changed it a bit... Stitching it felt like drinking hot cocoa - warming, sweet and relaxing. I will make it into an ornament, and next year it will be on our tree.

My Hogwarts Crest and my Mansion  are still in the WIPs pile, to my shame... I will have to leave them for the next "mini-vacation." When is the next.. International Hermit Stitching Day? 

Now, about my family. I am a very proud mother this year, because my daughters - both of them - received medals "For Academic Excellence" at their school... Ironically enough, the day after the ceremony my youngest daughter brought home a note stating that, because she forgot to turn in her homework, her "academic performance may suffer." I thought I'd let this one slide - so she won't be the best of the best, but only the best by a little bit, so what? We can live with that. ))) 

Academic Excellence and Attitude in one great package

Also, this year my youngest daughter turned ten... She wanted to decorate the cake herself, and this is the result. 

Mixture of Picasso's technique with Van Gough's Starry Night.

   All in all, I wish I could spend more time with my daughters. Last year, when we moved to this new bigger house, they convinced me that changing schools would be "very sad and traumatic" - all their friends were at the old one, all their favorite teachers were there. So, I agreed to let them stay for one year - next year Rita is going to Junior High anyway, and Vera can go to the new school as well. Now, with a little over three months of school left, I count the days until I can switch them to something closer. Why? 

   First of all - mornings: they have to get up earlier to get there on time, and often that is... a problem. Did any of you, my friends, tried to get a pre-teen girl out of bed in the morning? Let me tell you - it's not easy... 

   Second - after school time: before we moved, after school my girls went straight home (where else?); now, because we live farther away, they go to their grandmother's - she still lives nearby. Then she drops them off to me in the late afternoon... So, even though I do not work as much as I used to, it still feels a lot like work schedule: not enough time with my kids. It feels even weirder, though, because in the afternoons I am alone in the big house, - the big house that was supposed to be for them.... Yet, they are someplace else. 

   Maybe it's me: my daughters are getting older, they don't "need" me as much, and I am getting older too... I feel less useful sometimes - here I am, out of work, alone at home while everyone else is doing something - working, going to school... But what about me, what am I doing?

   Stitching, that's what! I stitch. I should probably cross stitch the banner for myself - "I STITCH". This is all mine, it is the job I chose and created for myself, nobody can take it away, no one can fire me or lay me off from it. It gives me strength to know that I am working towards something long-term and very real - towards creating my own job, my own business, something that will stay past my "hiring age." 

Happy stitching, my friends! 

First biscornu I ever made - "Snow Queen."
Original design by Lubov Kolpakova

A Professional Student Experience

As many of you know, I have come back to school to get a second degree - this time in Accounting. What associations do you have with being a student? Just thinking about it... A day becomes longer, and the nights shorter  - not because of daylight savings or the sun coming up earlier, but because I don't go to bed until all work - regular, house - and home - is done. Getting up in the morning becomes impossible without a cup of strong - really strong! - coffee.... In a nutshell, being a student for me always meant more work and less sleep. Why would someone want to stay a "professional" student unless he or she is into self-deprivation?
Then, a couple of months ago, my husband started working in San Luis Obispo. The kids were visiting with family, and I decided to take advantage of the opportunity and come to Kreuzberg in SLO. Kreuzberg is a restaurant with a "student" theme - mismatched chairs and tables, photographs and paintings on the walls, and piles and piles of books everywhere...
I had a few assignments to do, so I ordered a cup of coffee (with WiFi service included) and went on to work. Three hours went by very quickly, people came and went - all the same type, students, well dressed and happy, -  music was playing, and although it was loud, it did not bother me. When breakfast time came, the bagel with smoked salmon and kippers - with exotic name "J.D Salinger" -  was added to the coffee; a while later, at lunchtime, "Albert Camus" - an ahi tuna salad with honey mustard - or was it raspberry vinaigrette? - sauce arrived on my table... I kept working on my homework, and it was done, but at the end of the day what I remembered was the food and music experience. For the first time in my life I understood why some people prefer to stay "professional" students. If I was eating like that every day, I would not only enjoy it, I could also lose weight... and get my homework done, too! What could be better???
Naturally, living a good "student" life is expensive. Most of us (including me) probably could not afford this luxury on a regular basis. The meals I described earlier - the exquisite salad and the salmon bagel -were not cheap... For me, it was a once-in-a-while treat. As for the cafe regulars - most of them are students, children of well-to-do parents that don't have to work, don't have to do anything, really, but go to school and get decent grades. From the conversations I overheard while sitting there, I could understand that the speakers had but theoretical knowledge of the world around them, as someone would when observing it through the safety of a glass... What a charmed life it is - a life of professional student! For a moment I became part of it - and everything began to look so right, so logical and regulated. So... chaos-free. Just like it used to feel and look when I was a child. It must be pleasant to keep that illusion past the teenage years.
Then my husband came to pick me up, and it was time to go home - back to real life with jobs, bills, children and never-ending chaos. Back to reality.

Business-like thoughts

At the beginning of the school year my daughters came home from school with "exciting" news: their field trips are no longer sponsored through school, they can only go if they collect enough money - through fundraising. Fundraising is not my favorite activity: I firmly believe that children go to school to prepare for college, not to acquire rudimentary selling skills. So, fundraising was a "no."
Instead, I made a different deal with my children: for every item I sell on Etsy (at my online store), I donate $1 to their class, cash. That way, everything I gave to school would actually go to the classroom, and, additionally, it would not put a squeeze on our already overstretched budget - since the money comes out of the profits.
Well, it's time to pay up. As of today, I have made my 11th sale on Etsy. In addition to that, I have sold some items on Tophatter - an auction site for anything and everything, handmade and not. My children have earned about $20 - fair and square.
Of course, for many people out there 20 sales is not much. I see shops on Etsy that have hundreds and thousands of sales. But - for me it's a milestone. A good start. Something to hope for. And - a way to contribute to my kids' classrooms without having to buy things I don't need. In the times of financial strain, every (seemingly) little thing makes a big difference.

For the Love of Stitching is still developing and taking shape. It will be a while before I can call a business in the official way. But every new visit, every new sale, every suggestion brings it closer to the goal. Please visit and let me know what you think. All feedback is appreciated, and constructive criticism is welcome.

Blankets and Biscornus

Happy Sunday to all! And not just a Sunday - a Hermit Stitching Sunday Weekend, as I found out from Chris't post. Makes me think of hot tea and sweet pastries... and stitching, of course!

As for stitching - I have been doing a lot of it lately, and even selling some, thanks to online auctions. Here's the new biscornu I stitched just the other day.

Starting a business (if what I am doing can even be called that) proves interesting, but very different from what they show in movies or even teach in business classes. When they talk of "business" in class, I imagine an office with computers, printers, and office workers. Business plans, advertisements, lawyers...

I think, though, this idea is based on the experience of an employee, someone who comes to work at already established place. Any new business starts with you knowing how to make something. Then, after making it for a while, you say, "I can make it really well! I wonder if I can do it for ____ (insert anything of value, essentially - not for free)". Then you try to find some people that might buy the thing you make- through social outlets, web sites, acquaintances, friends, family... anyone and anything that is available.

Advertisement campaign is just a fancy name for a person going from one place to another - be it physical or virtual - asking: "Want to buy what I made?" So, that's what I do now. Thanks to Internet, I don't actually have to go door to door, but just post my pictures online, and thanks to online auctions, occasionally I make a little money. Is that how other business people start? I think so, although I do not have any definite proof. Well, maybe I do - there's a story I heard on the radio about a man who had to borrow $25 a week from his secretary and who was always broke - until his idea became famous and popular. Once it did, he made his dreams come true and married that secretary, and they lived happily ever after. His name was Walt Disney.

One day my dreams will come true. In a way, they already are - I am making something real, something that will leave a memory of me. That brings comfort to my heart.

Speaking of comfort.... 

Nothing brings comfort like a crochet blanket.

Love and Luck to All!

That was my thought when I was stitching this new biscornu designed by Olga Maxden. The whole process took me roughly six days, from stitching out the hearts to attaching the beads to putting it all together. And I loved every minute of it.

In addition to that, when I am not thinking of love, luck and stitching biscornus, I crochet. Right now I am working on a humongous soft blanket. Every Saturday  - well, almost every Saturday - I go to the crochet group at our local Beverly's store and enjoy the company of many ladies with the same interest as mine.... as well as birthdays, baby showers, life stories, and everything that comes with sitting in a large group of women for three hours straight. Surprisingly for myself, I do not mind.

One Saturday, though, I had to miss this "gathering of minds" for one simple and sad reason: I lost my crochet hook. Now when I say "I lost" I really want to say "It was stolen", but I don't have any real proof of that, except for conviction in my head. Who were the culprits? I will tell you, if you promise not to laugh. They were Nargles!

Nargles, according to the Online Urban Dictionary,  are creatures that "are known to live in mistletoe, and they are quite the little thieves." I did not believe in them at first, but the recent disappearances and subsequent "returns" of my favorite items made me change my mind.

Let's see... About a year ago, I purchased a Celtic Autumn chart in Solvang, brought it home, and put it in my drawer to be started at a later time. When that "later time" came, I opened the drawer and could not find it there... I searched my entire office, questioned my children and my husband, but, alas, the chart was nowhere to be found.

Disappointed and sad, I gave up on finding it. Then, about a month ago, something told me to look in that same drawer again, and there it was, my chart, neatly folded and with conversion printouts, just as I left it, in the exactly same place. I was overjoyed.

The next two thing to disappear was my embroidery scissors. Taught by the chart experience, I did not immediately rush to the store for the new pair, but decided instead to wait. It took those scissors a week to reappear... right next to my armchair. Finally, my crochet hook disappeared under unknown circumstances, and reappeared today in my office, right in the middle of the carpet floor. How else can all this be explained? Nargles, of course!

I am sure that, after reading this post, you will immediately start believing in nargles too. But even if you are not totally convinced, or if, even worse, while reading these words you shake your head and mumble to yourself something about a "looney, batty cat lady" who lost her mind or memory... well, that is, of course, your choice. May I just leave you with one thought: there are lots of creatures in this world, some visible, some not, some believed to be purely imaginary. But just because you have never seen something, does not mean it does not exist. And if something exists in my head, does not mean it is not real.

 With that, I wish Love and Luck to All! 

(Note: to qualify for a wish, belief in nargles is not required).

The season for tearjerkers?

Recently, everywhere I go online I find various tearjerker stories: a baby talking to his mother from inside her womb, a little boy who can't afford to buy a doll... In the end, we find out that the baby was getting aborted, and the boy was buying the doll for his little sister so "mommy could give it to her when she goes to heaven...." Each story is aimed at a particular issue: abortion and loss/poverty/giving in these two instances, "daily miracles" of love and forgiveness, and treasuring friends over possessions. The list of topics can go on, and on, and on. At the end of each story, as if to add guilt to tears, the post asks "to re-post if it touched your heart or do nothing if it did not."
I guess my heart is just untouchable, because I never re-post these stories. For one, I do not believe in chain letters, and that's what these stories basically are. The people that posted these did not write them, they just hit "re-post" (or "share") and made it "theirs" for the day. And while hitting "Share" shows them to be sensitive and understanding, what does it do for anyone - except overload internet?
That was "for one"... For "two" (sounds too weird), over the years I have come to recognize all the stories that get posted. It seems several stories - always the same - go out every year around September - beginning of October, they reach their peak around Thanksgiving and slow down right after Christmas. The story about the little boy with the doll was seen by me every year for the past ten years. My once-sensitive heart was aching the first time I read it, but eventually sympathy gave way to cold recognition of a gimmick.

Which is what it is... A gimmick, an advertisement of sympathy and compassion - online, for everyone to see. Instead of doing something real - hit "Like" and "Share" in your corner of virtual space. That's just...

This says it all.