This morning I woke up with The Beatles singing in my head ("I'm so glad that she's my little girl/She's so glad she's telling the whole world..."), and even though it was much too early and I was having a hard time finding something both clean and work appropriate to wear, it was a good morning.  Come to think of it, it's been a fairly good week or so.  Not great.  Not horrible.  But ok.  This year I'll take it.

Christmas with my family is usually a good time.  We have a lot of family traditions, from decorating on Christmas Eve to opening stockings on Christmas morning, doing our family presents a few days after Christmas, and going to go see a movie together on the day we open presents.  All the traditions can make the days between Christmas Eve and New Years Day something of a marathon, but it feels good.  It's like we wait until it's really Christmas to celebrate, and then we do Christmas with all our hearts.  It's been a bit of a subdued Christmas this year - we can't help remembering, and missing Jacob so much - but it's been a good one.  I got some lovely presents, and was able to finish Boy-O's socks just in time (I was working on them literally up until the last moment, weaving in yarn ends as we came back from the movie before opening family presents), and he likes them.  Mariah gave me a gift certificate for dancestore.com, which means I'll finally be able to get new dancing shoes (my current pair have large holes in the soles from dancing on carpet every Monday at the UD Swing Club).  I also got the awesomest pair of black velvet pajama pants, which I've been wearing almost non-stop ever since (so comfy).

I should also mention that Sunday was my parents' 40th Wedding Anniversary.  Yeah, you read that right - forty years.  One winter's day in 1969, my mother stood at the back of the church in southern Ohio where I was later baptized, 20 years old and scared to death.  She wore a white a-line mini-dress with a triangle of white lace for a veil, and carried white poinsettias.  When she finally stood next to my father, she whispered in his ear that if he wanted to he could back out right then.  Thankfully he didn't, not then nor in any of the troubles they've faced together since.  They've been through a lot together: births, deaths, moves, health issues, money problems.  But through everything they've stuck together, always working together to make their relationship better.  I was thinking the other day what a blessing their example is to me.  So many of my friends have never seen a marriage like this, don't really believe that it's possible.  I know that it's possible for two fallible human beings to love one another the best they can through everything that life throws at them because I've seen my parents do it.  For forty years.

Now we're getting ready for New Years Day, and Big Annual Family Party.  This year I'm encoring the Chicken Parmigiana I made for Boy-O's football Seniors, and making Spreadable Crack for part of the hors d'oeuvres.  Both Johnsy and Ani are coming, though I think the most anticipated guest will be Sparky, the Duchess and Indy's friend from Philadelphia.  Both of my sisters have talked about this guy so much that I think it would take a superman to live up to the expectations.  I'm looking forward to meeting him at last.

I had this idea for a Wordless Wednesday post this week.  I was going to photograph a pile of crumpled up tissues, lovingly lit, exploring the rich depth and texture in all the soft nooks and crannies.  It could have been a lovely photograph.  Unfortunately, it would have taken actual energy to assemble the tissues and photograph them, exactly the thing I've lacked for the last four days.  It seems it was my turn to get clobbered again by the Plague House, and I got clobbered good.

I'd been feeling run down for a little while, but I'd been hoping that it was just the usual stress of the season.  Then Tuesday morning I woke up in the midst of a ferocious sneezing fit.  My throat was on fire, and my head so muzzy with fever that just picking my way cautiously to the bathroom and back made the room start spinning.  I took decongestants and aspirin, gargled some salt water for the throat, and went back to bed.  I pretty much stayed there for two days.  The throat started feeling better after a day or so, but the fever didn't want to leave.  Last night I left the house for the first time in three days.  It wasn't the smartest thing I'd ever done - just the effort necessary to take a shower and put on normal clothes left me rather wobbly.  But I had promises to keep, so I went.  This morning the fever was up again, so I called in sick, but as the day has gone on I've been feeling steadier than I have in days.  I think tomorrow I might try to return to normal life.  We'll see.

I'm not the only one sick at our house these days.  Our kitten, Baby, has joined me on the sick list.  We're not sure what's wrong.  Suddenly, although he had been immaculately house trained for weeks, he started throwing up and pooping all over the place.  At the same time, he's been shrinking.  When he came to us he had been a starvling little kitten, scrawny as all get out, with his bones practically poking through his skin.  It had been very satisfying to see him become almost pleasingly plump, an adorable little butterball.  However, in the last few weeks he's been slimming down alarmingly.  He's not as scrawny as he was when he came to us, but his bones are much more apparent.  Ani keeps talking about taking him to the doctor, but hasn't been able to.  On top of her own medical bills (including that trip to the ER, and missing a month and a half of work), a big vet bill would be devastating.  In the meantime we worry, research kitten illnesses online (does he have worms? an allergy? something else?), and hope for the best.

I've gotten remarkably little accomplished since I've been sick, but I'm pretty pleased with the one thing I actually got done.  I finally found the notebook with Boy-O's measurements in it (his feet are 9 1/2 " around and 10 1/2 " long, in case you wanted to know), and got started on his Christmas socks.  So far they're coming along nicely.  I'm about 5 1/2" in, about halfway through the feet.  I'll keep knitting until they're 9" long, then turn the heel and keep going until I run out of yarn.  I'm knitting the socks two at a time on one long circular knitting needle, so hopefully this will go quickly.  As of today I have ten knitting days in which to finish them.

So there's a little piece of news I've, sort of, um, neglected to mention for a little while now.  This was partly because while it was good news in a way, it wasn't particularly happy news, so I didn't want to talk about it.  Also, there have been other things to blog about.  But it's time for me to come clean, so here it is: I'm moving out of Johnsy's house.  And, yeah, this sucks big time, so I hope you'll permit me to whine a little bit about it. 

I don't want to leave.  I like living with Johnsy.  And, yes, I know, we'll still be in the same general area, and we're also rather fond of one another, so I'm sure we'll see each other quite a bit, but it won't be the same.  Seeing each other will involve planning, and going out into the cold, and putting on suitable-for-public-consumption clothing rather than schlepping down the hall in your pj's to vent about something, or inquire if the other person is perhaps available for a spot of West Wing viewing.  Plus, now there's Ani too.  Before she moved in this summer, I barely knew her, and now she's one of the best friends I've ever had.  I don't want to leave her either.  Or Baby.  What will I do without that little trouble maker?  And let's not talk about the garden....  The other thing is that I hate moving.  Really, really hate it.  At one point I decided that I would rather be single than have to move again in order to live with a husband.  There's so much disruption, and you can't find anything (sometimes you never do find it), and everything is chaotic and awful, and just the thought of packing up all my books?  Horrible.

However, the sad truth is that I cannot afford to live at Johnsy's anymore.  Money has been dreadfully tight for some time now.  My hours at work got cut in half in August, and since I'm not in class right now the student loans that I would have used to bridge the gap aren't available to me.  I've been trying hard to cut corners, make a little more money however I can, but it's not enough.  The ends just won't meet.  By moving, I'm cutting my rent by 2/3, and in one stroke will suddenly be able to actually live on the amount of money I make.  I know.  What a concept.  As much as I love Johnsy, I have to be able to pay my bills.  So I'm moving.

The good part of moving is that I'm going to be living with Rosie and Johnnycakes.  Rosie is my youngest sister, Johnnycakes is my favorite cousin, and I'm delighted to be living with them.  I enjoy both of them very much, and I think we'll get along well together.  However, until last night I wasn't exactly excited to be moving.  The room I was moving into was an unfinished room in the basement that only recently had electrical outlets installed.  I was trying hard to focus on the great workroom I was going to have in the upstairs solarium, but that basement room... it was discouraging.  I tried to think or it as a Hobbit Hole, which helped a lot, but still... not thrilling. 

Then last night Rosie called.  She had been thinking about the whole room situation, and really didn't like the idea of me sleeping down in the basement with all the dust, and damp, and possible mold (very unhealthy for asthma sufferers like me), and maybe carbon monoxide poisoning from the furnace in the next room.  She asked me if I was very attached to the basement room, or if perhaps I might be interested in having the sleeping porch upstairs instead.  And interested?  I was thrilled!  I love light and air and being able to see the sky.  Sleeping in a room full of windows, even if it is unheated and I'll have to go through Rosie's room to get to it, is right up my alley.  Of course, I'm going to have to invest in a space heater, and a lot of curtains, but I don't care.  Sky and light and air = bliss.  Also, did I mention that the room has its own fireplace?  I don't think it's functional, but still.  My own fireplace!  I'm so excited.

I should also mention, while I'm on this news-telling kick, that it seems that we are still the Plague House.  While Ani seems to be slowly but surely on the road to full recovery, Johnsy has lapsed back into full on flu badness.  She's pretty miserable, so if you could say a prayer for her, that would be much appreciated!

I am baking bread, and the most delicious sour, yeasty smell is flooding the downstairs.  I can't wait to try this bread.  It's sort of an experiment.  I don't know when I stopped using recipes to bake bread, but sometime in the last two or three years it became more a matter of stir yeast into warm water, add flour until it looks right, knead, etc. rather than following a recipe step by step.  This latest loaf started started with half a teaspoon of yeast stirred into some flour and warm water yesterday morning, and left to ferment (with additions of water, salt, and whole wheat flour at various intervals - read: when I happened to look at it and notice that it might need a little feeding) until this afternoon.  I kept the dough wetter than I usually like it, inspired by a blog post I read recently about artisanal bakers working with wet doughs to get a superior crumb, and then baked it in a preheated Dutch oven at 450.  I turned it out onto the oven rack about ten minutes ago to brown the bottom crust a little more, and I can't wait to take it out of the oven.  I have no idea how it's going to taste, but if the smell is any indicator, this bread is going to be amazing.

All in all, I'm feeling pretty good about life this afternoon.  This is a nice change for me.  For the last while life has felt like one long series of discouragements, disappointments and personal failures.  Lately, however, I have begun to feel somewhat encouraged.  This is partly because of things that have happened, and partly because of some life changes I've made.  It's too soon to tell if my luck has turned, but as things are right now, I think I feel... cautiously optimistic.

One of the encouraging things that have happened was the craft fair this past weekend.  After the last craft fair, I really needed this to be a positive experience.  I knew that this was a different kind of event - much more focused on art and artists than discount items and cutesy wooden Santas.  Also, Indy had agreed to help, and decided to contribute some of her own items (some of the most adorably covetable pincushions, teacup candles, and button barrettes I've ever seen).  I loved our location - in the corner by the stage, right next to the old vault door, which I covered with garlands.  I wasn't expecting to make a ton of money, but I needed enough sales to make the thing, well, worthwhile.

At first, things looked bleak.  When we closed up Friday I had not sold a single item.  Both Indy and my Aunt B (also sharing our booth) had sold things, but not me.  We had lots of people coming in, looking at my things, commenting on how adorable/cute/clever they were, but then leaving without spending any money.  While the appreciation was nice, I needed actual dollars.  So when I went back Saturday I bit the bullet and lowered my prices.  And then things sold.  Half an hour into the second day, I had made my first sale of the weekend.  It was glorious, and such a relief.  The rest of the day continued to be moderately profitable, and by the end of the day I had covered my booth costs, and matched Indy's sales for the weekend.  It was great.

One of the things I'm discovering is that selling things in person is so different from selling things online.  I don't know if it's any less work (another crafter was saying that she justifies lowering her prices for craft shows because she doesn't have to do all the work of photographing, listing, promoting, and then shipping the item) since you still have to transport everything to the location, set up your display (which you had to spend time/money making), man the booth, then tear everything down when you're done and transport it all back home again.  You definitely can't get as much for the same item.  Every crafter I talked to said that while they could get one price online, if they priced things the same in their stalls, customers wouldn't buy.  I think part of this is that when people find your stuff online it's because they were searching for your thing, and are ready to buy.  Customers at craft fairs want to be wooed, for something to tickle their fancy.  Also, customers at craft fairs expect to get a bargain.  If it doesn't seem like they're getting a big bang for their buck, they don't buy.  I think this is partly because, in our society, the work that goes into an item isn't really valued.  When we look at things, we calculate the acceptable cost by the value of the materials that go into it, not by the labor it took to assemble the materials.  We're so used to buying things made by workers in third world countries that get paid $0.20 an hour that paying crafters anything like what their time is actually worth seems exorbitant.

At the same time, the things that people are drawn to in person vs. online is so different.  For example, one of the garlands that got noticed, talked about, and exclaimed over the most was my Black, Black Heart Garland (which also happens to be one of my personal favorites).  People loved it, and it sold out.  However, on my Etsy shop, this same garland is one of my least popular items.  Perhaps this is the result of the pictures I used to market it, or some other factor, I don't know.  But I think we're drawn to things differently when they're presented as images on a screen rather than the actual object being right in front of us.

The other fun thing about the craft fair was interacting with the other crafters.  During slow periods the crafters come out from behind their tables, and wander around looking at all the other booths, talking to the other vendors.  They find something that they admire, and then you hear the phrase, "Well, we'll see how my sales go."  You can tell when a vendor has had enough sales that she feels comfortable with her profits, because suddenly she's running back to the other booths, buying the things that she earmarked.  When sales don't go as well, there's a lot of bartering.  At one point, our booth ended up in the middle of this crazy round robin bartering act.  See, one of the other vendors was the Barr's, alpaca farmers who were selling yarn made from their alpaca's fleece.  I wanted some of this yarn awful bad, but my sales hadn't been quite good enough for me to feel like I could splurge.  However, she mentioned that she would love to have one of Indy's teacup candles.  In the meantime, Indy had been browsing the lovely cards at Cathartic Slant's booth, and wanted some of those.  Cathartic Slant wanted a couple of my garlands.  So we organized this big round robin of garlands for cards for teacup for alpaca yarn, and everyone was happy.

It was also a weekend of coincidences.  One of the guys helping with the sound system turned out to be one of the people who used to be in theatrical productions with Jacob.  At one point the only other girl I knew in high school named Bernadette (whom I hadn't seen since she graduated) happened to stroll into my booth.  And then, the young woman who was manning the massage station right next to our booth turned out to be Godiva's sister.  We didn't discover this until late Saturday.  All weekend we'd been shyly getting to know each other, and finally during a slow period on Saturday she took advantage of our extra chair to sit down with us.  She and I were talking, and she mentioned that she does belly dancing.  I asked her if she knew SD, who is very involved in belly dancing in Dayton.  She said that she did, but mostly because SD does swing dancing with her sister.  I asked her what her sister's name was, since I am a swing dancer too, and she looked at me and said, "Wait, are you Bernadette?  No way!  My sister G. said that I had to look out for you and say hi!"  It was kinda fun.  Now we're talking about going in together on a booth for the next Yellow Springs Street Fair.

And then I went home, and discovered that I'd sold almost as much on my Etsy shop over the weekend as I'd made at the craft fair.

This is unrelated, and this blog post is way long as it is, but I couldn't help sharing this extra little bit (which also contributed to my general cheer).  On Sunday I came home from a CL Leadership Team meeting, and Ani was home watching the first season of Bones.  She had just got to the Christmas episode, in which everyone has to be quarantined because Zack released a bio-contaminant while sawing through a bone, and Hodgins was exposed to it because he was drinking eggnog at the time instead of wearing his bio-hazard mask.  The two of them come out of the decontamination shower wearing towels, and, well, I do think my heart skipped a beat.  And this is why I love Ani, because both of us shrieked at the same time, and then she hit pause.  And then rewound it.  Three times.  (I may have encouraged her a little bit.)  It was rather wonderful.  If I weren't already in love with Jack Hodgins, I would be now!

Also, I should mention that the bread turned out incredibly good - not as sour as I expected, but with a moist, tender crumb and a gorgeous depth of flavor.  I'm making this again!

Wordless Wednesday: Invitation



You all should come!