Crafty Wonderland Super Colossal Sale

Beautiful old building used by Norse people in Portland. I'm part Norwegian. Somehow I think I'm just not Norse enough to hang out there socially.

This line of people looks innocuous enough until you walk around the corner of the building and observe that the line extends all the way down one whole city block. There was a perpetual line of people waiting to get in for over five hours. As though it was some crazy hip night club and not a craft show.

Four feet is kind of short for a person, it's breathlessly inadequate for a booth size for two crafters (Lisa E. and I shared a booth) let alone one. The lone crafter next to us was feeling claustrophobic too.

A non stop sea of people all day long. I have never been to a craft fair, as a vendor or as a shopper, that was this packed. The word sardines comes to mind. Luckily, most of the people at the show were not stinky.

Some highlights of our craft show experience:

• It was insanely packed in Norse Hall all day long. Next year, either the venue needs to be twice the size it was this year (but not with twice the vendors), or there need to be half the vendors so that the vendors can actually breath. It was unhealthy packed in there. Which is great for business to a certain degree except that when I took a break to look around, I gave up trying to look at crafts after about ten minutes because being jostled by way-too-cool citizens is not my idea of a nice shopping experience.

• The music was mostly good with some Clash, some Johnny Cash, and some music I'm not nearly hip enough to have recognized. But the Christmas music that was played periodically was obnoxious. Most notably queasy making was the awful rendition of "All I want for Christmas" which I always loath in the best of circumstances...this version went on forever with more missing tooth noises than any other version I've ever been forced to endure. Why anyone thinks it's cute is a mystery to me.

• The quality of the vendors present was really high, from what little I was actually able to observe. The ladies that put on the show really know how to pick interesting and different work.

• Portlanders have an endless amount of money to spend on really bad haircuts and jewelry, but not so much money to spend on other things. I'm glad my friends have repeatedly talked me out of cutting myself some short bangs. There were so many super short bangs present and 99% of the people sporting them looked dreadful with them. If you have a really long narrow face it is an especially unfortunate look. It was either uber-short bangs or the crazy shag cut that predominated the floor.

• There were some gorgeous coats there. Also, there were some of the most gorgeous and stylish plus-size ladies I've ever seen and they shamed me, yes they did. I am a fat old hag with a frumpy wardrobe while these specimens of gorgeousness were like amazonian queens who refuse to be put down by the barbies in the world. I am humbled. I now know that there is no reason why I should not wear a cape or a fabulous classic tweed coat, so long as I wear some make up with it and carry myself like I am dynamite.

• There was one lady present who was so glaringly out of place I couldn't stop staring at her. She looked like Donatella Versace with less collagen in her lips (Donatella's lips may have no collagen in them, but they look like they do), she looked so completely Southern California. I knew, in a vague way, that there is a huge difference between Portland style and LA style, but never was it made so clear. I vastly prefer the Portland style, short bangs and all. (The lady in question didn't deserve to be stared at by me, by the way, she flashed me a very sweet smile on more than one occasion which I returned in kind.)

• People LOVED the bath bombs. I brought forty eight of them and sold at least 36 of them. The grapefruit-ginger were completely sold out. One particularly nice (very bearded) man returned to our booth to smell them a couple of times, bought one, then returned a half an hour later to buy another one.

• People also LOVED the pot holders. I almost immediately sold out of the pin-up ones. I sold a lot of pot holders. No one bought any aprons. No one bought any of Lisa's gorgeous felted purses. But apparently Portland has been short of pot holders until I came along.

• My humor just might be too edgy for everyone besides prison inmates. Philip finally printed my "needle junkie" knitting needle t-shirts and I sold only one. One lady commented that she thought it was too real looking, too "real life" for Portland. This reminds me of the fact that when I was a teenager living in Ashland (southern Oregon) I only knew Portland as the great big heroine capital of the state. Other teens would visit and tell tales of all the drug using going on up there, especially the heroine. I have been thinking that Portland would be the perfect place for my t-shirts, but now I'm not sure if any place is the best place for them. Now I'm wondering if me and my humor should be canned.

• Everyone, everywhere are having babies. Babies are EVERYWHERE. I can see how overpopulating the earth may just be a real issue. It isn't just the Catholics. It isn't just the poor uneducated people in third world countries- in Oregon it's EVERYONE. No judgments here people, just an observation. I've never seen so many kids and babies at a single craft fair.*

I cannot count on my fingers how many people have told me that Portland is the best place for my products. That on 23rd street I would sell out! That on Mississippi street I would totally ROCK! That anywhere in Portland my stuff would sell like crazy. All the time I had my store people would tell me that. (not just you, Angela, LOTS of people). I have been thinking that that must be true. People will get me in Portland...in my mind I kept thinking that if only I could do a craft fair in Portland I would do really well. Dustpan Alley would just take off... I no longer believe that. I had the edgiest crowd of what I thought would be my target customers, hundreds of them, and I didn't sell a single apron and only one edgy knitting shirt. There is only one place my aprons have ever sold so well that it was uncomfortable keeping up with the demand: my own store in my own little uncool town. You know what's weird? People would visit from Portland and buy them, but when I take them to the people in Portland, they don't buy them. ?????

But it doesn't matter anyway. None of that matters. Because I am not going to pursue a life of crafting for a living. I will make some stuff, I will hopefully sell some stuff but it is so amazingly clear that the life of a professional crafter is not for me. I hate doing craft fairs. I hate staying up until two am to sew things that people don't actually want to buy. Hell, I don't like staying up until two am to sew things that people do want to buy.

I may have made enough money this month to avoid having to get a job next month, which is great since no one is hiring in January anyway. So I'm amazingly thankful for the money people have spent on my stuff this month. I'm not at all ungrateful. But I've also never been so damn tired in my life. Except for when Max was eighteen months old and doing the dishes felt like running a marathon.

Which leads me to the other realization I've had this week which I've mentioned in passing: I am in the middle of a low level persistent depression and I can now tell for sure that my medication isn't working how it should be. Every minute I haven't been sewing this month I have spent lying on my bed willing myself to get up and go to the craft room to make something, or to do the dishes, or some laundry, or SOMETHING other than laying on the bed looking at the ceiling feeling listless and bone tired. Returning phone calls requires a half an hour pep talk first, then another half an hour to recover my energy after it has been sapped by talking to another human being. I can't bring myself to sit down and sort through the bills which means that everything will be late this month.

I am not feeling sad though. Depression does not always mean feeling sad. One of the hallmarks of depression is listlessness and a lack of energy. Sometimes when depressed people talk about not being able to get out of bed in the morning, they don't mean "because I am so sad" but "because my body feels like a carcass full of lead."

Anyway, I promise myself to address this just as soon as this week is over and I'm looking at Christmas and the Holiday Market from behind me. To my friends and family: there will probably be a great shortage of cards and packages this year. So sorry. I will let them know by e-mail just as soon as I can work up the energy to do it...



*In California it isn't nearly so unusual to have just one kid, but now that I think about it, I don't know a single other family here in Oregon with just one kid who isn't planning on having more. In fact, here in Oregon, it's even kind of weird to just have two kids. In this state it seems that most people have, or are planning to have, or would have if they could have, at least three children or more. I have met more people here who have three or more children than I've met in all my years in California. I'm not saying it's better or worse or bad or good, just interesting how different it is here. In California, the people who had more than two kids were kind of viewed as freaks. Here in Oregon, I'm the freak.**

**Let's be honest, I'm the freak everywhere I go.

My Soul Costs One Dollar

Up until two am again. Working. I was sewing until my machine broke. MY MACHINE BROKE TWO DAYS BEFORE MY PORTLAND CRAFT SHOW WHICH IS EXACTLY FOUR APRONS AND 23 POT HOLDERS BEFORE BEING READY. But I'm not stressed about it at all.

Instead of sewing I packaged up the 48 bath bombs I made yesterday with Lisa E.'s help. Then I mixed up bath salts in two new scents and made Philip stay up to make labels for them. He also had to start work on silk screening some T-shirts for the show which he might not be able to get done in time because the emulsion was delivered two days later than he expected it to come.

So we were up until 2am. Neither of us are at our best when we keep a crack addict's hours. It's much worse for Philip, though, who requires a lot of sleep to function well and not scream obscenities every few minutes over the smallest things.

People have always made the mistake of thinking that Philip is really a mellow guy. The problem, I realize now, is that they are always seeing him next to me. I'm not the most easy going mellow person on earth (world class understatement), so next to me even Speedy Gonzalez is going to seem like a catatonic Rastafarian. Philip is not a mellow guy. He has an incredibly short fuse. When he gets no sleep he's a like a hand grenade with the key pulled out that may explode at the slightest change in the atmosphere. He's very skilled at hiding this fact around people he doesn't know well.

He doesn't deal well with sudden movements, loud noises that he didn't create himself, fast moving dangerous objects, chaos, changed plans, missing shoes, or people who are more awake than he is. That's why we need to build a sensory deprivation tank for him to live in. Especially for days when he hasn't gotten enough sleep. Those are inevitably the days when Max has an extra dollop of wacky burning energy in his blood and decides to focus it all on Philip.

If anyone saw us on mornings like this, you would all think I was the mellow one. Someone would give me a medal for not slapping my menfolk silly. I have such forbearance. Like a saint.

I hate to tell you all this, but there will be no farmer's market tote tutorial any time soon. Not for a Christmas craft. I feel that I have let you all down pretty seriously. But this morning comes to me as a reality check. I will do the drawing early next week for the TWO prizes. The reality is that I have been busting my keyster to be ready for craft fairs that I will never be ready for, I have mostly been ignoring my noble duties as a mother*, and as a wife, and as a human being.

In fact, I finally made good on my threat: I SOLD MY SOUL TO THE DEVIL.

(Do you think I should have held out for two whole dollars and two months of good sleep instead of one dollar and one month of good sleep?)

A few things have become crystalline clear in the past week:

• Working retail sucks.

• Working outside the home sucks.

• Coughing til you throw your shoulder blade out sucks.

(Like the word "sucks" much Angelina? I love talking like a sophisticated seven year old. Oh, and hey, while we're talking to ourselves, why not put a more positive spin on things? You don't have to become one of those annoying people who never say "sucks" even when they're wearing a hair shirt, but for Pete's sake! You're going to rip a hole in your brain if you-

Oh, sorry.)

• I don't want to craft for a living.

• I want to concentrate on writing and making a living doing it. Because I'm better at writing than I am at selling crafts.

• I want to be a stay at home urban homesteader.

• I want to get healthier this year.

• I want to go back to therapy.

• I want to review my medication and maybe up the dose for the first time ever.

• Because I don't think it's working as well as it used to.

• God Dammit, I want to get thinner.

Part of why I am best off staying at home is because I think I will fall apart if I have to leave it to work for someone else who is bound to be a fundamentalist of some sort. Or an ass.

I do know exactly what I want. Do you all know what you want? Do you all have a strategy for getting it that doesn't involve prostitution? I want to know what life you are all striving to live? What are your goals? If you're already living the life you want to live, how did you do it? How did you get there?





*Although yesterday we had a great time hanging out together in my studio- Max played with cars, drew pictures, and watched Rugrats while I worked. He also (for the first time ever) helped me make his cornbread. It was an awesome afternoon. If he was like that every single day I would have had myself 12 babies.

PSYCHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!