Sweet Inspiration

Every once in a while there comes along an "ah ha" moment which we never could have foreseen, which we never expected, a moment so obvious in its simplicity that it leaves us nearly breathless. A moment in time that makes negativity and the perplexities of every day life fade into the background, if only for that one moment in time. It is a moment not to be missed.

On a recent visit to my daughter's in Queens, we decided to take a day trip to the Bronx Zoo. While riding the monorail after walking around in the drizzle all day, the train rounded a bend, and there he was. A solitary tiger, a specimen of beauty so complete that I was nearly moved to tears. It was not until days later that I realized I had been able to capture my moment - and his - in a photo that would allow me to ponder upon the thoughts of this magnificent animal for the rest of my days. This regal cat emanated peace, displayed contentment merely by the lazy blink of his eyes. Whether he was truly at peace at this moment or it was simply my perception of what I wanted his reality to be, I don't know. But at that moment, it didn't matter. He could have been waiting to pounce on some poor, unsuspecting prey and thinking "lunch!", but it didn't matter. His tranquility was contagious. The vibrant orange of his spectacular coat contrasted vividly with the summer green of the trees. That same vibrant orange reflected softly in the still water, a calm oasis that rippled only slightly as the cat flexed his muscles. And as my eyes took in the majesty of this creature and transmitted that unforgettable picture to my brain, the reality of aging parents, struggling businesses, children's growing pains, unpaid bills and a bed beckoning me to return to it and remain there with my head under the covers until the end of time all left me. Only for a moment, but they left me, those problems determined to sidetrack me, because I could not deny that no matter what I believe, no matter what my trials and tribulations are, no matter how challenging my life has become, life was resoundingly beautiful. This world cannot be a bad place when there exists in it the power and glory of my exquisite tiger at the Bronx Zoo.

As you all work in your studios and workshops, creating your own beauty in the world, I wish for you to have an "ah ha" moment.

Best regards,

Kathy
http://nnlamps.com

Crafting Can Be Messy - But Teenage Boys are PIGS!

This fine young man is my son. Quite the stud muffin, yes? This is the young man for whom I had to implement the "when I'm working, I'm dead" rule that I mentioned in an earlier blog. A few years ago, my son began playing a very unusual musical instrument. It's called the "butt trumpet". The "butt trumpet" is a distant relative of another invention of teenagers, both boys and girls, most commonly referred to by the young athletic types as the "snot rocket". What could this possible have to do with making lovely little lamps, you ask? Allow me to elaborate.

My shop, a.k.a "the pit", is in the basement, as is my son's bedroom. Until a few years ago, the noise coming from his room was easily identifiable. It was music, or something he considered music. Bear in mind, I work with resin. I can't have the stuff jiggling all over the place as it's trying to cure. And yet, that's exactly what happens when the boy turns on his mega big ass surround sound stereo system. My pouring table shakes from the pounding subwoofer that's vibrating right through the cement floor. And then tiny specks of dust start floating down from the ceiling. I thought this would be about as bad as it could get. I had cured him and his two older sister's of "snot rocketing" anywhere but outside. "Snot rocketing" - you know, when a soccer player or football player (choose your outdoor sport) launches a giant booger at an unsuspecting competitor. Don't deny it. All you jocks know just what I'm talking about. But, no, it got worse. Read on.

About the time my little angel hit puberty, the "butt trumpet" added a new dimension to my suffering. The first time he blessed me with his talent, he had plodded down the basement stairs in his disgustingly sweaty soccer uniform and kind of dripped into his room. Expecting the onslaught of "music", and I use that term loosely, to spew forth momentarily, I heard a diffent sound. A long, low, gurgley rumble, soft at first and then growing in intensity until I had to cover my ears, rolled boldly into the pit. Have you seen "War of the Worlds"? The remake, not the original. This was a tripod kind of sound, only wetter. It could have been much worse, my friends. The accompanying oder could have left me unconcious on the cold cement floor, but no! I work with resin. I use a respirator! Gasping for air, hands clasped to my ears, I ran for the relative safety of that mask, jammed it on my face and drew a massive breath. I was going to live! Thus, my introduction to the instument my son has become quite adept at playing - the "butt trumpet".

So what can we learn from this? We could lock our sons in their rooms with an air filter, I suppose, but I was thinking more along the line of expressing the importance of wearing the proper protective gear for the job. If you ever get a hankering (a WHAT?) for experimenting with resin, wear a respirator, not just a particle mask. And if you're a power tool junky, put on the safety glasses. I've come close to learning the hard way that skimping on the protective gear is just plain dumb.

On that note, get out your air purifier's and happy crafting!

Regards,

Kathy
http://nnlamps.com

I'm a Reject!

What is not to love about this lovely piece of work? I ask you, how can this kind of genius be rejected? Because one person's genius is, well, not another person's genius. Yes, not being accepted to a show definitely falls into the sucks category. I've had rejections to three major shows already this year, which will result in an estimated loss of income of $6000.00 or more. That REALLY goes in the "sucks" category! Now, I could sit around and feel sorry for myself. Let's face it. That's exactly what I've been doing. Or, I could examine the reasons for not being accepted to these shows and learn from them, in theory anyway. Unless I'm too butt hurt to open my eyes and look at it without the "who can resist me" attitude. So let's have at it.

Show rejection #1 - I have applied to this show for years. It has a very complex application process and it's very hard to get accepted for the first time. I got farther this year than ever before in this process. I made it through the first jury round. My understanding is that there are two rounds. So, I'm getting closer. At this point, I think the only thing I can do differently is to apply earlier. It shouldn't make any difference when I apply as long as it's by the deadline, but sometimes it just does.

Show rejection #2 - Quite frankly, this one pissed me off. The jury consists of retailers, not crafters. The jury form stated my craft was not hand made. Which leads me to believe that although I was told submitting my website URL was sufficient and would be referred to for the artistic process and additional photos, that this did not happen. Even though as the result of continuing research I have never found a big box store, import store, or another crafter with the same product, or even close, for that matter, I received only 7 of 15 points for creativity. Really? They decided I was simply embellishing the resin. OMG. Honestly, I'm not even going to address that because it's so ridiculous. The first, and only thing I could think of that turned them off is that I use manufactured resin and porcelain animals instead of making the animals myself of polymer clay as I have in the past. The problem with making my own animals is that a) I suck at it, and b) it is simply not cost effective or time efficient. I would have to raise my prices by at least $15.00 per piece and then I would not sell even one of them. So, from a business stand point, I can't justify hand crafting my little animals.

Show rejection #3 - This show is, again, very difficult to get into. There's a huge amount of entries for a relatively small amount of accepted artist's/crafter's. I think a sign of the times is that more and more artisan's are applying to only the larger, more "sure thing", very established, long standing shows. We can't afford to have shows where our profits are tiny, or worse yet, we wind up in the hole. I have found that the smaller shows are searching for crafter's while the larger shows are turning many quality crafter's away because so many apply. I also think this will level off as the economy improves. That may take another 150 years, but I'll try to remain optimistic.

That sums up my words of wisdom. My apologies for another thing that sucks, which is my grammar. I'm having a humongous brain fart and just throwing ,'s and 's all over the place because I can't remember the basic rules of the English language. Sniffin' too much resin, I'm sure.

Happy crafting,

Kathy
http://nnlamps.com

Winter Wonderland? Oh, Please!

This is my house. This is my house in winter. This is my house in the snow in winter. This is my house in which I live. This is my house in which I live and in which I am wondering what could be so bad about global warming if I didn't have to deal with this frigid white crap anymore?

What do I usually do when the snow piles up and the icicles are hanging from the roof like giant daggers just waiting to fall and impale some unsuspecting visitor? I descend into the pit and work. I embed tiny creatures in gooey resin and stick a bunch of even tinier animal buddies in the goo around them so they won't be lonely. And I begin to relax and refocus. But not this winter. Not this long, cruel winter of unending white stuff falling from the sky. No, this winter I chop endless fat pieces of wood into endless skinny pieces of wood so we can be warm and cozy without owing the propane company our first born. I balance precariously on my roof, shoveling huge amounts of the dreaded white stuff off so the white stuff stays out of our bedroom. I spend hours viciously hacking away at the obnoxiously large blocks of ice that have frozen at the edge of that same roof. Then I find that some of those spiky ice daggers have melted and found a way to squeeze their liquid selves into the wires connecting the fire place blower to it's switch, rendering it - and my primary heat source - useless.

My husband and I will be retiring in just a couple of years. I used to be a great believer in "home is where the heart is". I have become a greater believer in "home is where the snow - ain't."

Here's wishing you all a blissfully short winter.

Best regards,

Kathy
http://nnlamps.com

My Solution for "Feet Draggers"

So, you're at a craft show, and the people in front of you are moving so slowly that you're going to start tearing your hair out any second. My solution? My 18 inch wood auger and my hammer drill. Yessir, get's 'em movin' every time!

Today I'm busy killing time at a show, another snoozer, and I decide it's time to road trip to the toidy. What should be a 15 second walk turns into 2 minutes. The ladies in front of me not only just about have it in reverse they're moving so slowly, but they're weaving back and forth from one side of the aisle to the other. I fake to the left, but, too late - they've already moved for the block. I dodge to the right - um, it's a split defense now, so I go for the middle and BAM! I've got to back off or risk running one of 'em into an innocent crafter's booth display. It wouldn't be pretty. I have conceded to the shoppers. I must follow behind, hopping along with my legs crossed, all the while wondering how much of my booth will be hijacked while I'm gone.

Now, here's the rub. I'm complaining up a storm, at least in my head, because the shoppers are cruisin' in low and I gotta go. What do I do when I'm sitting in my booth watching the shoppers motor by lickity split without glancing in either direction? I complain that they're moving too fast and not only not buying, but not even looking! How dare they! Don't they know what they're missing? Apparently not.

The moral to my story is that I need to be happy those two ladies were moving slowly enough to take in all the great things at the show, and I need to leave for the bathroom a lot sooner. Take your time shoppers! Big dopes like me are actually grateful you're taking the time to look.

Multi Tasking - A Crafter's Best Friend

It may not seem so, but my lovely daughter's in this photo are multi tasking. How, you ask? They are getting plastered and pissing mommy off all at the same time. My guess is, at the point this picture was taken they wouldn't be capable of taking on any more tasks than the two I mentioned. So, if even these two inebriated party animals can multi task, you can, too!

Most of us who work out of our homes run into the same problem - interruptions. The phone rings. Unexpected visitors. Laundry. Repair people, like for appliances or crappy cable reception show up. Kid misses the bus. Husband decides to help out by cleaning the kitchen. Oh, my. "Kath, where's the broom?" Really? How about in the same spot it's been for the last 20 years or so. The first time he's used it, perhaps? Um, yeah, something like that.

Because of the numerous interruptions and generally not being taken seriously because, after all, I don't have a "real" job, I have established the "temporarily deceased" rule. If I'm working, I'm dead. I do not exist on the planet. If the kid missed the bus, I guess he's going to stay a little later and take the late bus home. Don't call me. Temporarily deceased people cannot answer phones and they certainly cannot operate motor vehicles. Break something, need to clean up a mess? I'll just bet you can find the broom all by your lonesome. Drop half of dinner (which hubby does cook, btw) all over the kitchen floor? Let the dogs clean it up, then I won't have to mop. Internet not working? Plug in the stinking router/modem thingees or whatever, duh. Cable not working? Unplug the box an reset it. If that doesn't work, curse the cable company very loudly. You won't have TV but you'll feel better.

When I ascend from "the pit", covered with sticky resin and obnoxious resin dust, fingers streaked with dye, or in the case of a power tool accident, fingers missing, then you'll know I am again fair game and no longer temporarily deceased. Temporarily insane maybe, but alive. Who are we kidding? Permanently insane. Anyone who does this for a living is a whack job.

So, fellow whackadoos, happy crafting and here's to a prosperous holiday season!

Regards,

Kathy
http://nnlamps.com

Not Nice to Piss Off Momma Tiger

We all know it's true that when someone picks on our kid, us mom's turn into a tigress, just like my innocent looking little lamp shown above. It's all good until some bully gets in your kid's face and won't stop. It seems the coach and administrators are oblivious because they can't hear the insults being screamed across the field at my son by a spoiled rotten kid who seems to think he is the KEY player on the field. And this young man, unbelievably, is a captain. Yikes. In actuality, there are no key players on this team because the team pretty much sucks thanks to less than stellar coaching, lack of discipline, and really crappy attitudes on the field. I have promised my son to keep my nose out of it and not pursue this problem because as we are all aware, actually trying to do something about the situation often makes it worse. So I'm going to watch and listen closely. For the first time, I have found myself encouraging one of my children to quit walking away and plant this kid on his ass on the cold, wet ground. My son is a pacifist. We have taught all three of our kids to walk away from trouble unless someone is physically threatening you because it's better to be the bigger person. Well, uh uh. No more. There comes a time when things are carried too far and you must make it known that you're not taking any one's crap any more, especially from a self absorbed, conceited, self appointed superstar. Done.

What really kills me about this kid is that he gives 110% as far as his actual play goes. He gives everything he's got to help his team, and then yet, finds it necessary to put others down and run his mouth. And he's a captian, for gawd's sake! I don't get it, I really don't. Sounds like a self esteem problem to me, but I'm not psychologist. The fact that the coach of this team is not very knowledgeable about the game itself, and seriously, cannot tell talent from just wailing on the ball, who cannot tell the difference between aggressive play and dirty play, and does not realize that players running all over the field like a bunch of lunatics instead of playing their positions leads to chaos, not success, does not help the situation. The fact that the rules are changed as to what discipline is given to those who miss practice or games to accommodate the coach's favorite players is, to say the least, disheartening. I would not care if my son sat on the bench for the whole season if he and several others were treated fairly and the coaches in this program would deal with the rotten attitudes of those who deem themselves so superior that they have the right to run their mouths at team mates. What has happened to discipline? What has happened to respect? What has happened to coaches who realize a sports team is NOT a democracy? You are a coach for a reason! Grow a pair and set these kids straight! And for the record, I have coached, played, reffed the game in question, soccer, for over 25 years. I know a tad about it. I just wish my son were not involved at all because anything I say is just going to be taken as an overprotective mom babying her little boy. Sooooooo not the case, but it will surely be taken as such. So, as I said before, I will watch and listen closely and let my son handle it. If it gets out of hand, watch out for the tigress.

On that note, happy crafting, fellow tigresses!

Kathy