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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!