lemlem - you're killing me.

lemlem is killing me with awesomeness.

I'm not tired.

People keep telling me that I look tired. Not my friends, just a random assortment of probably-well-meaning acquaintances. I won't walk my kids to school anymore without sunglasses, because someone will tell me I look tired and honestly, it's discouraging.

And really? I'm not tired. By 8:30 in the morning, I've been up for two and a half hours, I've run 3 miles, and had a cup of coffee and a shower. I've organized three other people and pushed them out the front door. I may have even written a ranty, incoherent blog post. I feel great. I even thought I looked pretty good until someone told me I look tired.

The truth is, I'm aging. And I'm fine with that. I'm 42 and this is what I look like. Tired, apparently.

And if I do look tired, my lovely, sweet well-meaning acquaintances? Why would you tell me that? Even if I AM tired, I don't want to hear about it, do you? And what am I supposed to say? I'm working on some possible responses.....

1. I have typhoid (accompanied by loud, wet coughing in your general direction).

2. Your husband kept me up all night.

3. Thanks! So do you!

What do you think?

I found some other suggestions on the Hairpin.

Going forward, those of you who clearly have unrealistic expectations for my face, Hush. And I'll go pluck out my eyebrows and draw them in 2 inches higher.

ps. Petra bought me those awesome sunglasses so I can look wakier in the morning!

One down, two to go.

Pictured above: a vineyard at 75 miles per hour, the sky (as usual), melalueca, a drawing of me shooting the turkey with a bow and arrow (by Fin), a pit stop self-portrait with offspring, monarch butterfly migration, little boys at the beach, and the irish coffee that kicked my ass. Not pictured: Billy Idol dance marathon, someone pepper spraying other shoppers at Walmart. We should all add this to our list of reasons we don't shop at Walmart.

Happy Holidays! I mean it!

Every year I go into the holidays thinking: This will be lovely....

I come out thinking: Holy crap! Why do we do this to ourselves?

Yesterday.

I made chocolate chip pumpkin bread.

I fixed my crappy old ironing board up with cardboard and new padding. Good as new! Not really, but good enough.

I made a bunch of these. Go get some.

Also, I made these lavender sachets. Cute, right?

I took the monkeys shopping and Fin got lost and cried and that was terrible, and then he ran into a pole and cried. Also, why do people on mobile phones in public think no-one can hear them talking about their antidepressants and what a bitch their sister is?

I put my receipts in a paper bag and brought them to Julie's house. I brought her some hopefully eggshell-free orange cranberry bread too. She wasn't home. I went back later and brought the bread, but forgot the receipts and she still wasn't home. This is pretty much par for the course where my bookkeeping is concerned.

I thought to myself: Maybe the world will just run out of tear gas soon.

I thought to myself: David Lynch's new record sounds very creepy, even for David Lynch.

Seamus made it to level 7 in Kirby's Return to Dreamland.

The weather was cold but real pretty.

What did you do yesterday?

What are you doing today?

Hello, Autumn. And, the news from here.

Yesterday, I dropped half an eggshell into the cranberry orange bread batter with the mixer on. I'm pretty sure I got it all out. Later, I heard my six-year-old imitating my guttural yell for his brother.

Last week I found out that I'll be showing at the American Craft Council show in Baltimore in February! For real! And five minutes later my email got hacked and I sent messages to all of my friends about what they might want to enhance. And I was like: Really, the Universe? I couldn't just enjoy my spectacularness for 6 minutes before I frantically change every password to something that contains numbers and upper and lower case letters, is at least ten characters long and does not contain any user information?

Around here.

Pictures of the sky.

Except a milliondy times better than what you usually get here. By Rudiger Nehmzow. I saw them on Cup of Jo.

New in the shop....

I gotta tell you: I'm a little bit in love with this new Twenty Dollar Shopper. Eco-friendly, affordable and handmade - beat that! Stuff it with some home-made sweets and you've got a perfect Christmas gift for pretty much anyone. They're in the shop.

Watch this, please.

You'll be so glad you did. It's right here.

Road trip....

So, it wasn't pure serene mountain loveliness (there is no way you are the pine-scented air) but there's nothing like a road trip for confusion and ranting.

I cannot keep a thought in my head for one second.

Warning: No paragraph in this post has anything to do with the paragraph that precedes or follows it. Expect a fair bit of random meandering and a hidden rant. Proceed with caution.I blame:

The full moon.

Daylight savings.

Parent/Teacher conferences.

Anyway, I'm losing my mind, and it's manifesting in a lot of little ways, like forgetting to call people and buying groceries that I don't need and irrevocably losing my train of thought in the middle of an email conversation. And in larger ways.

Yesterday, I was standing on the porch when the UPS man (let's call him Chris, because that's his name) delivered a huge box. Huge. It's 3 feet by 4 feet by 6 inches. I was mystified. What the hell is this? What on earth has my handsome husband purchased from Amazon that would require a box of this magnitude? Bicycle? Flat screen TV? Should I hide it from the kids? And Chris laughed at me and said, Don't try to blame him, your name is on the box.

People. It's a pogo stick. That I ordered. Who buys a pogo stick from Amazon and forgets about it?

Then I picked up my kids from school and one was mad and wants to change schools because of "the tanbark incident." I didn't make that up, he really talks like that. Then, the other one came out crying because he "lost his habitat." He shouldn't worry because we're changing habitats anyway, presumably to one sans tanbark.

I do have this to say - Some people will set up a booth next to mine and call it Lexi's Krafty Kreations. And that makes me mad because I think craft is important and I take it seriously and I don't spell it with a K. Furthermore, don't use the word crafty unless you're the Beastie Boys and then not after 1986. Don't even get me started on creativity, except to say that it's universal and no one should pretend that they have any more of it than you do. (And that includes me, even in relation to Lexi.) Having an idea is one thing. Having a good idea is another. Knowing what to do with a good idea is beyond brilliant and amazing.

What? That might have been the end of the email conversation I lost yesterday, but I can't be 100% sure.

I know what you're thinking, my loves - best blog post EVER!

Beautiful photo by Susan Sabo.

It bears repeating.

Again, I know. And somehow, the wine.

Don't bother knocking.

Yesterday was all about email and packages and relentless self promotion - you know how it is. Today is all about happy sewing in the studio with loud music from 9 AM til 1:20 PM. Don't even bother knocking because I won't hear you. That's how loud the happiness is going to be.

New in the shop....

Okay, popular kids....You know how you have all those fabulous holiday parties to go to? And you always bring wine because your Mama raised you right? How are you going to carry all that wine? It's not like it has a handle or anything. I guess some bottles of "wine" do, but it's not that kind of party, is it?

The point is this: You might need a Wine Tote. or two. If so, hustle over to the shop. Also, I put almost everything ON SALE. I just did that because I like you.