The Merchant in Me

I think many of us have an inner small business owner– you know, the voice in your head when you’re shopping that tells you “I could sell that,” “mine looks better,” “I wish I were running this place — I’d do it right!”

IMG_1076My inner business voice wants to turn everything I make or collect into inventory. I collect glass, so now I sell some. I knit, and sell that.I love costume jewelry, so I’m selling that now. I’ve thought of marketing my soups and sauces (I make a great tomato sauce), but the food safety requirements mean a professional kitchen. I sell herbal sachets, beads and buttons I’ve collected, and things made from those items.

It’s fun, and occasionally even profitable. Mostly, I break even or thereabouts, but I enjoy the process too much to stop. IMG_1068

This year I have selling space at the Downtown Market in Asheville — an amazing collective or artists, crafters, collectors, and re-purposers who fill the cavernous space with color and plenty. ]Beautiful, funky, eclectic, arty, frugal, and just plain fun goods are displayed in booths and cabinets. It’s a most wonderful browse with something for everyone. I’ve got mostly glass and knitted items, with a smattering of craft supplies and small craft items.

I’ve been putting items up on E-bay and Etsy too.  I love selling things nearly as much as I love buying things.  Keeping the balance is the tough part. My little house can’t continue to be a giant inventory stash! I’m slowly trying to lessen the density of clutter by selling some of these things, only keep finding new things to add to the mix.

IMG_1087I tell myself all it needs is some organization, but that’s really not enough. There is simply too much stuff! My solution is to sell more, buy less. Knit more, using my existing copious yarn stash. Craft more from existing supplies. And sell, share, or barter as much as I can.


Come in and browse around the shop when you’re in Asheville, and check out my Etsy shop and E-bay items when you’re in the mood.

…And in the meantime, enjoy what’s left of 2013 and be safe, warm, and happy now and next year.

Blessings to all.


Let’s catch up a bit…

  • I finished school this week!
  • I have a new job (well, still new-ish) that I really enjoy
  • The cats have grown like mad
  • They are proficient and sneaky yarn-thieves.
  • I’m selling vintage glass, some jewelry and my knitting at the Downtown Market in Asheville. Also on E-bay and Etsy.
  • Christmas is just around the bend and I’m almost there too, these days.
  • Life is good.
  • I’ve missed blogging and plan to resume.

Blessings to all.

Cats: The Next Generation

So, a couple of years ago I posted about Lady Grey destroying a skein of yarn (When Loves Collide). She’s still with us, but her two partners in destruction, George and Topaz, have passed on to kitty Elysian Fields…where there are miceys and voles and very slow squirrels, along with endless skeins of yarn and people to trip at will (and of course, a few fish for George).

The next generation of cats is here now: Smudge, a lovely grey mackerel tabby with a white nose accented with matching smudges of black; and Ellsworth — all black and very sleek with the loudest purr ever. EVER.

Smudge is following in the yarn-napping tradition. Here is exhibit one: his first snarled skein.  He does his spiritual fathers proud.


First One Down

Well, I finished my first semester at College yesterday. It was interesting (at least most of the time) and I feel a pretty good sense of accomplishment.

I’m now the proud possessor of 19 new college credits to go with the old 24 from the past. AND a 4.0 average!

Yes, I’m proud — even though I minimize it to myself because it was all easy stuff, first semester, things I already know, blah, blah, blah….

But still, 19 credits represented a good workload for someone getting into the groove 40 years after high school.

What does it say about me, though, that the thing I’ve been gnawing on most of the day is the fact that I totally tanked my Algebra final — I mean totally — with a 66. I knew I was having an off day from the minute I sat down, and I completely misjudged what to spend my review time covering. My lousy showing wasn’t enough to undo the consistent high A from the other tests and grades, but still…. I feel a bit ashamed.  For Pete’s sake, I have a 4.0 average, so why doesn’t that outweigh the sense of failure at blowing one solitary exam?

Human nature continues to fascinate, doesn’t it?

Knitting Up a Storm

I’m going to a knitting group tonight that meets weekly at the my local yard store (in knitting lingo, LYS). We’re starting a project to knit hats (and scarves or mittens) for the local Occupy Asheville folks, who are camping out in front the Federal Building in Asheville — probably one of the coldest and windiest spots in our lovely city.

I love knitting for a cause — it may just be me trying to justify an obsession, er, hobby. But it makes it more special to me: giving the goods away, and at the same time making a statement about my beliefs.

As my mother might have said (if she’d thought of it), Knit up, or shut up.

Distractions and Comforts

I’ve mentioned my recent “addiction” to Farmville and now Frontierville on Facebook.

While I’ve always been able to lose myself in solitaire-type computer games, the accumulating and building games never attracted me. I suppose it was only a matter of time.

I spend a lot of time of on the computer, working, playing, distracting myself from a variety of difficult issues, and providing comfort to myself in times of pain (physical and otherwise). So I was used to using the computer in those ways.

But there is a strange and mesmerizing state I attain playing these two simple games. I finally identified it as an old old friend. It’s like playing dolls, or playing house.

My sister and I played dolls, played house, store, bank, dolls, school, dolls, cowboys and indians, dolls, cops and robbers, dolls, and more dolls. We were creative and clever, and we escaped completely from the mundane world.

Sitting in front of the computer, arranging my fields, harvesting my apples and fields of flowers or colorful produce, fending off rather tame bears and foxes, I can recapture that much desired escape.

For those minutes or hours, I am a little girl again, playing away the blues or the mean reds, safe and sound, building my little farm or village. Still believing the future will be molded as easily and as much to my own tastes.

A powerful lure, indeed. If I can only get it all arranged ‘just so” everything will be all right.

Who knows, maybe I’m right.

See you around the farm, pardner.


After succumbing to the lure of Facebook–and reconnecting with old friends who live far off –I took it one step further and fell to the enticement of games.

I happily play Wordscraper with my stepmom in Florida. This makes sense — it’s fun, stimulating and allows us to share something even though our lives and daily duties means we’re playing at opposite ends of the day.

But then, for reasons unknown to the logical mind, I responded to a link from somebody I know (can’t recall who) and tried Farmville.

The simple and sad truth is — I’m hooked.  This silly little, pointless, frivolous, useless game! It’s just a lot of fun. I plant things. They grow and look pretty. I harvest them and get money. People send me gifts, I send them gifts. My points get higher…. etc. 

So if you’ re wondering where I am, why I haven’t posted, and what the heck happened… come over to Farmville and visit. Maybe you can buy a bunny.

F is for Frustration

I’m going out to the expensive whole-foods grocery to get basil.

I had basil — I lovingly tended a second crop — for pesto. Picked, cleaned it, made the pesto. Yuck! I used the wrong jar of pignoli nuts. They were slated to be checked and perhaps thrown out. They should have been.  They were way too old. They imparted a bitter, rancid flavor to all my lovely basil. I threw it all out (pause here for rending of clothes and gnashing of teeth). 

Now I’m heading out to spend my change jar on more basil. I still have plenty of pignoli nuts (in the other jar) as well as garlic, olive oil, and grated cheese.

Not going to stay thwarted for long!

Fishing Season Open at My House

George daydreaming of fishies...

Well, here we are again.

The creek is high, it’s raining, and George has been fishing.

There’s just nothing that sounds like a cat with a fish…

George has a peculiar yowl when he brings one in that’s a combination of a throaty growl and a piercing wail.

My reaction is a little like a Londoner during the Blitz…. “incoming, incoming!”

Fortunately my resident knight-in-shining-armor (in the person of my son Joshua) came to the rescue, disposed of the remains, and informed me that it wasn’t a  record-breaker.

Stay tuned for seconds…