06/27/2014 § Leave a comment
I used to keep these two beautiful little paintings as part of my display at Ethical Clothing in Petaluma. People kept asking to purchase them and I finally took them down because I was afraid someone was going to pinch them. I love their sweetness and authenticity. And they just plain make me happy. Which is why, I suppose, everyone is drawn to them. I asked the artist if she wouldn’t be kind enough to paint some more that I could put in my little shop – and she did! Her name is Phoebe Brookes. I think she is an amazing artist. And I am biased, because she is also my beautiful sister. Here is a sample of what is available here.
06/06/2014 § Leave a comment
Because, well, summer vacation just began for us and I love the muppets. Enough said. Enjoy!
11/11/2013 § Leave a comment
This is my new mantra. “I just have to keep it together.” As in, I just have to not loose my mind, not freak out, and not throw in the proverbial towel. Keep it together.
I said this to my husband on Friday. Things are moving along. I just have to keep it together. And then Saturday, I lost my mind. I totally, completely, 100% freaked the hell out. Over what? Business. Money. The usual. But for some reason, on that day it all felt like too much. Like maybe this little company of mine could not make it. Or more accurately, I could not make it. Like maybe I had made one too many mistakes to rebound from, and the stress was so great that I couldn’t take it anymore. “Throw in the towel” actually came out of my mouth. But worse than uttering those words (gasp!), I believed it. So I sobbed. And sobbed. And sobbed.
Then I called Siri Hansdotter. Who is an amazingly talented woman who makes beautiful things. And I respect her as a business woman. She screwed my head back on straight. Her advice: Sometimes things suck. And you go through it, and you keep swinging the axe. Just keep moving. Clean your studio. Clean the windows and let the sunlight it. So I did. At times like that I think it is best to take the advice that is offered to me. Because clearly, I can be my own worst enemy and I can get myself into such a state that I can not think my way out of a paper bag.
Like all the important things in life, sometimes they suck. Period. But you keep moving forward. Because, really, what is the alternative? Give up? Oh no. We can’t do that. Go to bed? Well, maybe for a while. Call our friends and get back on track? Yes. Best move.
Today, I am back on track. And as an added bonus, I found out my lovely bags will be sold in two oh-so-beautiful stores. Both Souchi stores. One in Aspen and the other, Lincoln Park, Chicago. So that is a pretty big reward for “keeping it together.”
Letting some sunlight in.
10/17/2013 § 1 Comment
Yesterday was my youngest’s 10th birthday. And I love him so much my heart aches. Looking at him now, all big and big and bigger, I see how quickly time passes.
Before I had my daughter, I had a career. One I loved. One I was so good at, it was like I was born to do it. But once she was born, I wanted to stay home more. I wanted to work part-time. But my career was not set up like that, so I hired an amazing nanny and all in all, I was MOSTLY happy with the set up. Then came Rowan. And I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t miss out anymore. So I quit. I quit my job, left my career. Let it all go to embark on the wild adventures of stay at home motherhood. Which for years was fantastic. Those first years were the cake years.
I used to make cakes. Birthday cakes. Big ones. There was a castle sitting on a hill, both carved entirely out of cake, a beautiful heart shaped cake covered with roses from the garden, a fireman cake decorated with bright orange and red flames, a construction site cake complete with a little wooded bulldozer and a steam shovel moving around a mound of “dirt” made from icing and coco powder. None of them tasted very good because really, I am not a baker. But they were fantastic. And then, things changed.
At some point, all those wonderful things I used to do for and with my children began to feel like chores. Giving all my time and energy to two little people began to take its toll. I was drained. I was cranky more often than not. And I began to hate baking cakes. I continued to do it because I felt like I had to, but I just pushed though the process putting more resentment and irritation into those cakes than love. And what I realize now, looking back, is that I needed a career again.
Which leads to my business now. Again, I have a job I love. At the end of the day when I think about it, I am satisfied and I can curl up and fall asleep happy and content. However, it also takes so much time and so much energy. And in the background my children are growing up and turning 10. And I am missing it. Again. And again, there is a part of me that wants to stay home and watch my children grow.
Yesterday I took the day off and baked a birthday cake. I made it with love. And it was amazing. I was one hundred percent content. I didn’t feel like I was sacrificing my time. I felt like I used to in the beginning when the kids were little. I felt like baking that cake was a privilege.
So the million dollar question is, what happens now? I am not giving up on my career again. I don’t need to. My children are older. More self-sufficient. However, perhaps I will step back more often and watch my kids. Be with them without thinking about the orders that need to be in the mail. Take afternoons off to go to the park again like we did when they were little. Eat ice cream together. Just be with them and witness their lives. And the job, perhaps I will learn to be satisfied with the small amounts I can do in between being a mum. Perhaps I will learn to be happy with my little company and not feel resentment that I don’t have to time to grow it bigger. And the birthday cakes, well, those are definitely back on the schedule!
09/29/2013 § Leave a comment
“Pared down to its barest essence, wabi sabi is the Japanese art of finding beauty in imperfection and profundity in nature, of accepting the natural cycle of growth, decay, and death. It’s simple, slow, and uncluttered-and it reveres authenticity above all. It celebrates cracks and crevices and all the other marks that time, weather, and loving use leave behind.”
On our living room floor lays the most beautiful antique kilim rug. Its pattern is more intricate than most and the colors are just the right. My mother gave it to me when she moved to another country and for that reason alone, it has special meaning to me. We also have this beautiful little dog. And I love her so much. When we brought her home from the pound she liked to chew. A lot. One night we were watching a movie and in the back ground a small chewing noise began, but it was so subtle and faint that we barely noticed it. The sound grew louder very slowly. So slowly, in fact, that it took us all a while to ask what that sound was. It was my beautiful little dog. Chewing a rather sizable hole in my beautiful kilim rug. My first response was to absolutely one hundred percent completely loose my mind. And scream. Loudly. And kick my dog into the cold back yard. And to yell at her. A lot. In the midst of my rage came a moment of clarity. Like a splash of cool water. “When your beautiful little dog is gone, you will always remember her when you look at that hole in the rug.” And it is true. I will. I will forever look at that as of yet un-mended rug and think of how much I loved my dog. How I loved her little face and the way she would greet me every morning at the side of my bed putting her front paws up as high as they would go. Trying so hard to touch me. And it will be like she is always reminding me that she was here. Wabi sabi. Celebrating the cracks and crevices – and in this case, chewed holes – that loving use leaves behind.
The Pennyroyal Market bag is designed with this philosophy in mind. The leather will patina. And it will stain. When your child’s sippy cup leaks in the bottom of your bag, it will leave an indelible mark. But my hope is that by seeing that ring, you will always remember the day in the car with your little ones. Perhaps it is just my poor memory, but all the little marks left behind bring back floods of memory. And I fear without all those little marks, I would not remember the tiny sweetness of the everyday. Because really, at the end of our short crazy lives, it is all the little moments that we breeze through without notice that make up our time here. They occupy the space in between the big events. In between birthdays and family dinners are hours of simple daily activities. And I want to remember them. I want to remember them all. But I will settle for the ones that are recorded like so many homework assignments on the dining room table – and since no one can ever seem to remember to put a blotter under their paper, the little letters remain embedded forever in the old wood. The wood that I will never, ever sand.
My Market bag. Emblazoned with the wonderful memory of my last trip to Twain Harte with my kids, my most loved sister and her daughter. My niece’s sippy cup leaked in my bag. Every time I see the mark, I remember that amazing car ride as we watched the enormous plume of smoke rising into the sky from the Rim Fire. Pulling over and wondering if we should turn back. But since we were crazy or careless or just plain desperate for a vacation, we continued on.
08/31/2013 § Leave a comment