etsy junkie

Some of my new favorite things. Oh the world of handmade items is so hot sometimes.

plural

I was posting my new lavender sachets in my etsy shop when I discovered a new word. VAGINAE. I went to write the plural version of vagina (vaginas) and a red line popped up under it alerting me that I'm a hot mess.

Let me back up a moment to say that I have an automatic spell check function on for two reasons. First, because I can't spell for my life. And secondly, because I never learned to type properly so I look at the keyboard. This is sad, mostly because I'm an English teacher, but also because I write, a lot. The one redeeming thing here is that I do look up a lot of words and look into ways to prevent myself from immense embarrassment (hence the automatic spell check function).

As it turns out, vaginas and vaginae are both accepted plural versions of the word vagina. I also recently discovered that octopuses, octopi, and octopodes are all good too! I guess I should give myself a little more credit and have less faith in the dotted red line.

lots of latkas

Here's another installment in the cooking with my mother series.  She made me latkas, then she went to New York and made them at my sister's apartment, and then she went to Toronto and made them for my youngest sister.  Three cities!  It's like she went on a latka tour.  Gotta love that.

just a few yards

I'm sewing like a madwoman. I made two yoga bags, finished a clutch, and whipped up a day bag. Everything is coming out nicely, but I'm still being a lazy perfectionist. I know what I want things to look like. I know how they should be. But I hate ripping seams, so I'll just finish something with the mistake and make a new one right after. My first attempt at a yoga mat bag is a perfect example of this.

I messed up more parts that I'd like to admit, but I was too lazy to pull seams and do them over. I put the strap on backwards, the bottom circle didn't fit the main part of the bag properly, the stitching at some parts just looks plain jacked up. But I figured out all the kinks, and decided to make the next one perfect. I'll keep this first attempt, with all the "character," for myself and the other ones can go to new homes.

My new day bag is awesome. It has flying octopuses on it. There's nothing like flying octopuses to brighten my day.

And lastly I've made about a million little lavender sachets. These go on hangers, in drawers, or in your car to make it smell nice for a while. And they're pretty. Some have eyes on them, some are just stitched abstractly, and others have vag designs on them.

I'm making journals and some cookies, and some fun little holiday items. I'll post some of this new stuff on etsy, and some of it will come with me to the traveling wares shows.

it's that time of the year

I'm busy gearing up for the Traveling Wares shows at Sugar Mom's (Dec. 13th, 1-6PM), Dirty Franks (Dec. 14th, 2-7PM), and Tattooed Mom (Dec. 21st, 1-6PM).

Traveling Wares is celebrating it's 15th birthday this holiday season. There will be handmade goods made by local designers--jewelry, art, clothing, accessories, pottery, paper crafts, ceramics, and more. By "more" I mean I'm making new items and considering whipping up a couple batches of holiday koco-inspired cookies just for the event.

addition to the collection

I saw a post somewhere on the internet, a call for art, through the mail. This person would mail you a piece of art if you mailed him something interesting. I love mail, so I sent him a nipple. He responded with a picture and an email saying, "You sent the perfect 3rd nipple for me. The color is a bit off, but it matches perfectly, as both of mine are pierced." He also sent me a letter with lots of goodies, including a picture of some otters and some other random stuff. This is what makes life feel like life. He actually wrote on the back of the photo, "Yay otters!" I want more mail like this, all the time. If you want a handmade fiber nipple of your own, and you're willing to send fun artsy items in return, let me know.
For more pictures from the nipple collection/archive check the flickr set.

Grand Slam

Best Content Winner: Ted Passon

This reminds me of the pedicure I got one day in Bangkok, with my friend Vivian, at a place that may or may not have also have been a brothel. They certainly weren't very good at pedicures...

COFFEE, coffee, coooffffffeeeee!

I'm a big tea drinker. I have a large collection of tea--herbal teas, black teas, white tea, lots of green tea. There is nothing like a cup of English Breakfast, a little honey, and a splash of milk in the morning. I drink hot tea in the summer, and far too many cups of tea per day in the winter. It has been like this for years. I used to drink coffee, but it's been so long, I forgot why I had stopped in the first place.

I've been spending a lot of time with coffee drinkers so I thought I might have a cup, just to see what I've been missing out on. When I was offered a cup of coffee a couple of weeks ago, I imagined that maybe I'd discover that this is the magic tonic I've been searching for. I imagined after a cup of coffee that I'd be really motivated. I'd suddenly feel compelled to do all the things on my to-do list that I keep putting off and transferring to the next to-do list; I'd start training for a marathon; I'd figure out how to fit more hours into a day. So, I said, "Sure. Can't hurt. I'd love one. Milk and sugar, please."

Fast forward a week and I'm ordering a large cup of European style hot chocolate (at Naked Chocolate) with a shot of espresso. Everything is grand! Coffee is my new best friend. I do feel a bit more vim after a cup of coffee. I like it. I'm excited, slightly convinced that I am more productive. I walk faster.

Then, on Friday, I decided to go for a mochaccino before I headed up to New York. I'm having a lovely time, chatting at a cafe. When I finish my drink and stand up, I feel dizzy. I start sweating. What's wrong with me? I'm having a heart attack, maybe an anxiety attack; NAUSEA, I've been poisoned; an explosive device has gone off inside my body--Suddenly, I remember why I stopped drinking coffee. I can't believe I have to get on a bus for two hours. Not now, not now, NOT NOW! I'm dying, I'm sure of it. It was the coffee.

I run home and collect myself. I still feel a bit like a strung out parrot with an awful tick, but I look okay. I get on the bus and plug myself into my ipod. Somehow sitting still while jazzy tunes bop around my head, I attempt to do some deep breathing and to go to sleep. I drift off finally as I reach the end of my jazzy playlist. The music stops and the conversation between the two women sitting next to me starts to seep into my semi-consciousness. "Oh look, it's the Joyce Kilmer rest stop. She wrote that poem about a tree. You know, 'I've never read a poem as lovely as a tree,' " One lady says. "Oh did she?" the other replies. At this moment I blurt out, "Joyce Kilmer was a man!" My eyes are still closed. I realize that I said that out loud. I open my eyes and the two women are staring at me, like I'm strung out, so I repeat myself, "Uhh... Joyce Kilmer was a man." One of the women, shocked that I've butt into their conversation to correct them then tells me that she'll have to google that when she gets home. Oh god, I'm totally never drinking coffee ever again. I still try to redeem myself and explain why I'm still talking. I add, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I always think about the tree poem, and the poet with the girl's name, when I pass that rest station." I didn't mean it like that, but it came out like that. "Joyce is a man's name," the googler retorts, "Just like Vivian. Actually, I have a male friend named Vivian."

I fumble around looking for my ipod to listen to something else. I tell myself to stop talking and try to make a note this time of the reasons why I stopped drinking coffee...
1. serious delirium
2. feeling like I'm going to die
3. the shits

RZA & GZA put it best in Coffee & Cigarettes:

Coffee and I are NOT friends.

kyotofu

"My new favorite ____ "

I recently decided to stop proclaiming everything as my new favorite _______ .  It's just wrong to have so many favorites, and I wore out the true meaning of favorite.  However, I found myself declaring Kyotofu as my new favorite place, and their pastry chef as my new favorite person (as I hugged her)--and I meant it sincerely.  This wasn't like the time that I told Neil Diamond I was his biggest fan.  

I had just enjoyed some green tea soba noodles, followed by a soy ice cream sundae; I was content on a nice Saturday in NYC.  Life felt good. As the pastry chef handed over a Miss Koco & Sugar Monk sized bag of assorted mini desserts and delectable treats, my heart fluttered.  A true and profound burst of love flowed from me.  If I were to try to create a visual for you, it was a lot like a Care Bear Stare. Not that I was fighting off evil and bad vibes, but it was like an intense beam of light from my chest filled with joy, happiness, love, and goodness.  Bliss. I zoned out.  I couldn't hear anything. 100% Bliss. 

In this bag of immense yumminess there were two dark chocolate things that looked like mini brownies. One was filled with some smooth chocolate fudge-like stuff and the other had a spicy filling.  Spicy chocolate was unexpectedly, yet fully, enjoyable. Then there were cookies and a small green tea muffin!  I savored them, eating one at a time throughout the day.  It was exactly what I needed.  My new heroes: pastry chefs.

Kyotofu is at 705 9th Avenue (near 48th) in Hell's Kitchen. It's a nice place to go as a treat, a prelude to other kinds of fun, for something different but quite delish.  

just like slinkies

Some people are like slinkies - not really good for anything, but they bring a smile to your face when pushed down the stairs.

I haven't pushed anyone down the stairs, but I did have a moment where I thought it might be something that would make me feel better. I quit my job... or maybe I was sorta put in a position where I had to leave, so in a way I got fired. This has never happened to me before. I guess there's a first for everything, right? I'd like to look at the situation and say, "We broke up, it was a mutual decision." I mean... We didn't have the same goals. I cared about students, they thought I was negative and had a bad attitude. They were more concerned about dress code than curriculum. I was dedicated to providing quality education, they were confused why I'd be frustrated about students not having books--books they paid for as part of their tuition. I didn't really fit in there. I was leaving anyway, but it still feels all messed up.

I knew I should have just stayed in bed yesterday.