MARTHA, MARTHA, MARTHA
A couple weeks ago, I was walking downtown after a meeting about my blog, feeling pretty excited about what's coming in the next while, and feeling good about my house, my crafts, and even my stinky old dog. I thought about how I'd been a human afghan, draped across my bed in misery just a few months ago when my separation first started, and then I caught a glimpse of myself looking super cosmo in the glass of a store window. I actually thought, "F*** yeah, I'm the Martha Stewart of divorce!" And just as I thought that, a huge bucketful of snow fell off a hydro pole and hit me in the face.
My inner voice laughs at me a lot.
I am currently lining up a bunch of cool crafters, artisans, and businesses to spotlight on the blog. Because 'DIY' doesn't just mean *I* make it...so many of you make nifty things, or run nifty businesses, or even coordinate nifty events. The GIRL, CRAFTED motto is, "Life's better when you DIY it", and this applies to everyone. And this blog talks about not just making stuff (or 'made' stuff) but also food, adventure, and general 'I love this!' stuff. Anyway, if you're interested in being interviewed and talked about on GIRL, CRAFTED, send me an email. And if you're interested in supporting my continued writing and world domination via this blog, check out sponsor opportunities and then email me, too.
Last Friday I was supposed to accompany Alan and his kids, Blueberry and Max, to a kids play place called Cosmic Adventures. I've heard of this place for years but I've never been, lacking the children that would make my visit legitimate. I've envisioned many times just pretending that some stranger's kid was mine, like just occasionally calling out, "Emma! Careful up there!" so I could justify climbing around in the giant jungle gym. But that scenario always ends in my head with the police escorting me out for being terribly creepy.
Anyway, I was all excited to go but at the last minute I got a touch of food poisoning and ended up not wanting to really climb around in a jungle gym. Which sucked. Because all week I'd talked about going, and every single person I'd talked to who is an aunt, uncle, parent, or grandparent, had said the same thing to me: "Ooooh...Cosmic Adventures? Oh my." Their tones were a mix of reverent and fearful. I gave the first few a raised eyebrow--what was there to be so afraid of?--but by the fourth or fifth person, I started getting nervous. Because I had to stay home, I still have no idea what happens at this Cosmic Adventures place, and that's annoying the hell outta me.
It's my birthday this month, and I seem to have a new tradition of buying myself from Magpie Jewellery every birthday. (Magpie is a local jewellery store that I absolutely adore. Maybe one day I'll do a post on them.) There was this ring there that I'd looked at when I first took off my wedding band, because the first few weeks without a ring on that finger were hell. I had this terrible cycle going where I'd startle myself because I would realize I didn't have my ring on, then I'd think I lost it, then the painful recollection of my separation would smack me in the face. This repeated over and over.
Anyway, I found this little ring at Magpie, that was absurdly inexpensive, that was black and sparkly. It had reminded me of what the charred remains of a wedding band would look like after a terrible catastrophe, like a nuclear bomb explosion. I had wanted to get it as a placeholder, but it was too small. Anyway, I was in yesterday and they had it in my size, and I got it...but this time for different reasons. See, as I've healed and gotten better, I don't feel so sour anymore, but I do often think about that post I did about pyriscence--that certain seeds can only flourish after a fire. I bought the ring because it reminds me that out from ashes can grow new beginnings.