THE TAX MAN COMETH And Boy, Is He Mad!

I was browsing the web today, searching for “Luann Udell” because someone recently said I was an “Internet sensation.” I think they were kidding. Anyhoo, I came across an article I wrote years ago for The Crafts Report. And since it’s that time of year again, I thought I’d share it with you today.

by Luann Udell

Remember that “911 for artists” idea I had awhile back? I think we also need a special income tax service for artists.

When tax season rolls around, things get a little heated around here. Not like at your house, I’m sure. I bet things are very civilized and even-tempered at your house … (snicker).

There are cries of, “You spent how much on African trade beads? Did you leave any in Africa?!” Questions like, “So tell me again how many vintage paper cutters you need…” Perhaps at your house, it’s questions like “Just how special is that vast quantity of new glaze you bought?” and “What do you mean, the great idea you had that needed 10,000 new frames ‘just didn’t pan out’?!”

But the first few times we visited a tax preparer was truly a window into how mad our private little world really was. It started well until we got to my business.

He asked how much inventory I had on hand, and what was it worth? I said I had no idea. It goes out, it comes back in. Some pieces are at shows, some are on consignment. Even the sold stuff doesn’t stay put. A store swaps old stuff for new stuff, a customer returns a piece and takes another. Sometimes I get a little check from a store that hasn’t been in the loop for years.

He frowned, but persevered. Okay, so what about cost-of-goods-sold? Oh, I said, I could use some help figuring that out! I don’t really know for sure. I figured it out once for my polymer artifacts, but when I factor in my time, the price goes through the roof. “How much do you pay yourself an hour?” he asked. “Well, I compute it as $25 an hour, but in reality, I make about $3.25 an hour,” I replied. “Which figure should I use?” He decided to set that aside for now.

He asked for receipts. I said, “For what?” He began making funny little noises under his breath. They got louder when I explained that most of my fabrics come from junk stores, antique galleries, thrift shops and friends. I have antique paisley shawls, ancient handwoven rug scraps and fine vintage linen napkins I bought from a friend’s yard sale and over-dyed orange. “I paid a dollar for the lot, but if I had to go to a store today and replace it, I’d have to pay anywhere from $20 to $40 a yard.”

Did I have receipts for anything? Well, yes, things like sterling findings and my polymer. But the first six styles of chains I bought didn’t work out, so I sold some, but then I found a style that worked when I oxidized them, so then I oxidized all of them, but I used some in necklaces and some I cut up to use in earrings. And some I bought ten years ago, and I didn’t have the receipts anymore. Oh, and the price of silver fluctuates daily.I started to tell him how I acquire my beads, but he had to take a break.

We decided to skip ahead to charitable donations. Oh, good, I had a question: If I donate a wall hanging to charity, I can only deduct the actual cost of the materials I used. But if I sell it to someone and they donate it, they get to deduct the actual market value of the piece, even if it’s more than they paid for it. So what if I sell it to a customer but then they return it, so I’ve essentially bought it back from them–can I donate it and take the full price deduction then? He began to quiver.

What about books and magazines? Oh, I’m gold. I have magazines about jewelry, sculpture and fiber. And quilting. And metal work, Africa, anthropology and archaeology. I start to list more, but he says that’s plenty.

He said that anything used to furnish the studio is tax-deductible, too. Music CDs, for example. “What about dolls?” I asked. Dolls? I have a jillion vintage dolls, suitcases and globes in my studio. In fact, one visitor, taking in the table made of stacked suitcases and a shelf filled with globes, remarked, “Going somewhere?” I was baffled by the attraction, too, until another artist remarked, “Colors and shapes.” Ah. My husband is simply grateful because I used to acquire old typewriters until I realized how heavy 20 old typewriters are…The tax guy says they are not inventory. “But what if I bust up one of the dolls and use the parts to make jewelry?” I ask. “And hey, I forgot, I also have doll magazines!”

His eyes begin to glaze over. Something tells me I won’t have many deductions this year.I see that next under deductions is the one for casualty losses. Wait until I tell him about all the fabric the rabbit chewed up.

HOW NOT TO BE PROFESSIONAL

Today’s post is a link to my regular column in The Crafts Report on how not to look like a professional artist.

THE PROFESSIONAL ARTIST HOME SURVEY

I read an article in a professional magazine today, about how to tell when someone is a professional artist. According to the author, it’s not how much work you sell, or how famous you are, or how seriously your work is taken. It’s when you act like a professional. Criteria includes adhering to a schedule; a dedicated space that’s organized and distraction-free; technical skills; talking intelligently about your work, and dealing with customers fairly.

Some of these markers are a snap for me. I can talk like a house afire about my work. I have technical skills.

The other stuff? I’m in trouble.

So I present for you today, an imaginary home visit from the professional artist assessment team….

Read more….

LESSONS LEARNED FROM KNEE SURGERY

Here’s my latest article from the August issue of The Crafts Report.

Please send rum.

If you want to read it without a picture of my knee, here it is:

WHY IS THE RUM ALWAYS GONE? Life Lessons Learned from Knee Surgery

By the time you read this, I will may be dancing inching gingerly down the streets of Keene to a Zumba band, double-time the wheeze of a small kazoo. But in my timeline, I’m one week out from knee replacement surgery. I know, that’s just not funny. I’ll try to make it up to you.

My daughter phoned me while was at the hospital. I told her about a run-in I’d had with a very grumpy ok, a tired and probably underpaid grumpy night employee. (Sorry, I fought the lizard brain and the lizard brain won.)

Robin stopped me, exclaiming, “MOM!! Never complain about the hospital staff while you’re still in the hospital!!”

Wow, right! Never complain about the people you depend on to help you to the bathroom. Wait until you’re out of striking distance, then make fun of them. Um. Okay, so what else did I learn from my stay?

The next lesson, learned painfully from an over-zealous physical therapist, was, if what you’re doing hurts enough to make you cry, stop doing it. Yes, good results are worth the effort, and it takes diligence to do the things that are good for you. But if it hurts way way WAY too much, seek a second opinion.

Think of all the strategies for success we try, to build our own craft biz. Hard work, dedication, persistence. Sometimes our challenges are rewarded. But some are harsh, destructive, unnecessary or downright mortifying. (Sometimes jury processes and art critiques turn into free-for-alls and get scary.) There is no one-size-fits-all recipe for success. Know your limits, and respect them.

On the other hand, don’t sell yourself short. The encounter with said grumpy person started with an argument about a mysterious cut on my lip, which she insisted was a disgusting cold sore, and I insisted was a mysterious little cut on my lip. (Later another attendant reassured me it was probably from the breathing tube inserted during surgery.)

Determined to win the grump over with good will (my defense? I was on drugs, remember?) I asked her about her work. She told me, then she asked about mine. I told her I was a craftsperson. She asked what my work was like, so gave her my elevator speech (fabric/collage/ prehistoric artifacts/etc.). Instead of the interest that usually sparks, she turned to me and exclaimed incredulously, “Who in New Hampshire would ever buying anything like that??!”

She caught me so off-guard, I laughed out loud. Did she think I used plastic red and green dinosaurs? I dunno.

So the little lesson was, never argue with a grump, especially if you can’t get away fast.

But I also remembered, just in time, my big lesson: Believe in yourself.

When I first started out years ago, I asked myself that very question every single day: Who will ever buy this?? Am I crazy??

It was a guaranteed work-stopping, creativity-stunting, happiness-busting question to ask myself. It never failed to bring me down.

The best thing I ever did?

I learned to stop asking it.

Believe in your vision. Let your work find its own audience. Make the best work you can do, and then make it better—so when success does find you, it will find you at your very shiny best.

Let the nay-sayers find someone else to pick on. Try, try to refrain from tripping them as they pass you by.

So why is the rum always gone? Because a) you can’t have rum while you’re on pain-killers (drat!) and b) knowing you were sofa-ridden and couldn’t run after them, everyone else drank it already.

But again, by the time you read this, pain killers will be history. So send me your rum!

What Animals Are REALLY Thinking

You can read my latest column for The Crafts Report magazine here:

What Animals Are REALLY Thinking (About Us Craftspeople)

Enjoy!

Tuck as a puppy with his innocent look.

Bob, the very nervous guinea pig.

One of our many birds.

Chai, the world's funniest cat. Also the sheddiest.

HOW TO SOUND SMARTER THAN EVERYBODY ELSE

Artist statement resources for the folks who are smarter/better/more educated/more sophisticated/more talented than me.

Short story:
It’s our choice. We can make the commitment to say something meaningful and compelling about our work.

Or we can stick with the attitude that people need to educate themselves in order to really appreciate our work.

I’ve been writing a series of articles for Fine Art Views newsletter about how to punch up your stories–Your artist statement, your artist bio/cv, your press releases. This series, TELL ME A STORY, starts here. The second article is here:, and the next two will appear June 23 and July 7, 2011. Mark your calendars! (Or just subscribe to Fine Art Views newsletter–it’s free!)

Some people are ready to hear this stuff. Others, not so much. When I get resistance, I hear one of two things:

“Can’t you just give me a template, and let me fill in the blanks?”
or
“I really think art critics, galleries and art-collecting audiences want something more….sophisticated than a ‘story’.”

Well, say no more! If this is what you want, I’ve found just the tools for you.

This tongue-in-cheek artist statement template-driven generator by 10Gallon.com is perfect for those who just want to fill in the blanks. My first attempt resulted in this distinctively different artist statement:

Through my work I attempt to examine the phenomenon of Quick Draw McGraw as a methaphorical interpretation of both Georgia O’Keefe and fixing people.

What began as a personal journey of frackism has translated into images of cookies and arms that resonate with Caucasian people to question their own aquamarineness.

My mixed media dog images embody an idiosyncratic view of Billy Graham, yet the familiar imagery allows for a connection between Janis Joplin, cats and french fries.

My work is in the private collection of Darrin McGavin who said ‘Yeow!! That’s some real shapely Art.’

I am a recipient of a grant from Folsom Prison where I served time for stealing mugs and tie clips from the gift shop of The Peabody Museum. I have exhibited in group shows at McDonald’s and the Pucker Gallery in Boston, MA, though not at the same time. I currently spend my time between my den and Berlin.

I’m sure with a little practice, you could get something a little less silly.

For the academically-minded crowd, this artist statement writing tool site from Gurney Journey will surely appeal. It’s actually easier to use than the previous one. No need to even fill in the blanks! Try it. It’s a handy little exercise to create a bang-up, very academic-sounding artist statement in no time flat. All you have to do is combine any items from three different lists, and voila! An artist statement that is sure to start a spirited discussion about your work among the (g)literati.

But for those who don’t even have time to read through the lists, there’s more! This totally mindless automatic artist statement generator it sooooo easy, you don’t have to do anything except click on a tab.

My first result using the Arty Bollocks Generator was promising:

My work explores the relationship between the body and skateboard ethics.

With influences as diverse as Wittgenstein and John Lennon, new combinations are crafted from both simple and complex layers.

Ever since I was a student I have been fascinated by the ephemeral nature of meaning. What starts out as triumph soon becomes corroded into a tragedy of power, leaving only a sense of decadence and the possibility of a new reality.

As shifting phenomena become frozen through boundaried and diverse practice, the viewer is left with an insight into the limits of our era.

Hmmmmm. Not…quite. So I tried again. I got a message that said I was a little hard to please, and this new statement:

My work explores the relationship between new class identities and midlife subcultures.

With influences as diverse as Wittgenstein and John Lennon, new synergies are generated from both simple and complex textures.

Ever since I was a teenager I have been fascinated by the ephemeral nature of meaning. What starts out as vision soon becomes corrupted into a dialectic of greed, leaving only a sense of what could have been and the prospect of a new beginning.

As temporal impressions become clarified through emergent and diverse practice, the viewer is left with an impression of the inaccuracies of our era.

I still wasn’t satisfied (and the ABG got a little crabby), but I persisted. I clicked the tab again and came up with this one:

My work explores the relationship between postmodern discourse and urban spaces.

With influences as diverse as Nietzsche and Andy Warhol, new synergies are crafted from both simple and complex textures.

Ever since I was a child I have been fascinated by the theoretical limits of relationships. What starts out as hope soon becomes debased into a tragedy of temptation, leaving only a sense of chaos and the inevitability of a new beginning.

As shifting forms become clarified through boundaried and diverse practice, the viewer is left with a statement of the edges of our condition.

Wow! Pretty good! But why settle for pretty good when I can have the best? My next try resulted in this one:

My work explores the relationship between emerging sexualities and urban spaces.

With influences as diverse as Kierkegaard and Francis Bacon, new combinations are created from both explicit and implicit layers.

Ever since I was a student I have been fascinated by the traditional understanding of relationships. What starts out as triumph soon becomes debased into a tragedy of lust, leaving only a sense of decadence and the inevitability of a new synthesis.

As spatial impressions become frozen through diligent and personal practice, the viewer is left with a glimpse of the inaccuracies of our world.

The ABG grumbled that I was a bit of a perfectionist, but I just couldn’t resist one more try:

My work explores the relationship between postmodern discourse and recycling culture.

With influences as diverse as Blake and Roy Lichtenstein, new tensions are created from both traditional and modern textures.

Ever since I was a teenager I have been fascinated by the theoretical limits of meaning. What starts out as hope soon becomes debased into a cacophony of lust, leaving only a sense of decadence and the prospect of a new reality.

As temporal phenomena become transformed through emergent and diverse practice, the viewer is left with an impression of the edges of our future.

I decided to quit while I was ahead, and told the Arty Bollocks Generator, “Enough already.”

Yep, I had a good laugh. But the scary thing about these very tongue-in-cheek exercises?

These actually sound like real artist statements..

I’m not highly educated, but I do have an MA. And half the time, when I read these ‘sophisticated statements’, I have no idea what the person is talking about. Are these really the things they lie awake nights thinking about? ( Me? I tend to lie awake trying to remember if I let the cats in.)

Remember–It’s our choice.

We can stick with the attitude that people need to educate themselves in order to really appreciate our work.

(Let us know how that works for ya, okay?)

We can try to sound like every other artist who wants to sound intellectual, academic, and obtuse.

Or we can do some work. Get real. Get sincere.

Say what is in our hearts.

We can strive to say something meaningful and compelling about our art that anyone can understand.

WHAT’S IN A NAME?

Today’s essay is a rewrite of a column I originally wrote for the September 2004 issue of CraftsBusiness magazine. I’m writing an update for my column in The Crafts Report magazine next month, and wanted to provide the back story. Enjoy!

I can still remember the day I came up with my perfect business name. My tiny business was in its infancy, with great dreams of what was to come. A mail order business? Perhaps a small retail craft gallery?

I wanted a catchy little name that could encompass any possibility. We had a little family joke about any extra cash that came our way. Many people might blow it on an expensive dinner out or concert tickets, but I would joke that I put all my extra money into “durable goods”. So when the time came to register my business name with the State of New Hampshire, I was ready to go.

Our state is small enough to make the trip to the appropriate government offices in person. Determined to snag this name before anyone else thought of it, I waited hours in line to file, then waited for a decision.

I was turned down.

I waited more hours for the person who had made that decision to return from lunch, to find out why.

“It’s not very distinctive,” she declared. “‘Durable Goods’….It doesn’t say what you do. Don’t you think you should have something descriptive, like ‘Luann’s Art Studio’, or ‘Luann’s Craft Shop’? How can you be successful with a name that isn’t about what you DO??”

I thought for a moment, looked her straight in the eye and said, “The Gap?”

Needless to say, she reversed her decision. I was soon out the door with my brand new business name.

Time went on. As my work became more art-like, and I felt more like an artist, I wondered if my wonderful business name was still working for me as it should. I asked other artists, craftspeople and craft retailers for their opinion.

It looked like my attempt to look like a “real business” instead of a one person operation was actually working against me. Customers, even wholesale customers, found it hard to connect my business name with ME, Luann Udell. A “studio” name felt more like a big operation to retail customers, rather than a single artist at work.

It was time for a change.

Thinking of all the extra work involved to change my biz name convinced me I did not need to hurry, though. Until I got my wake-up call from the universe.

One morning I found a very odd message on my answering machine. A frantic woman had called, claiming I had run fraudulent charges through my business on her stolen credit card.

I felt my stomach sink to my feet. With shaky hands, I called the number she’d left. I tried to keep my voice steady and pleasant as I asked for her extension.

She took my call and told me her tale of woe.

Her credit card had been stolen, and thousands of dollars’ worth of charges made. She’d spent days with her credit card company trying to sort the mess out. Over and over, she repeated the name “Durable Goods” as the business these charges had been made to.

I was sympathetic but bewildered. It was a slow time of year for me and I hadn’t taken any credit card orders recently. Her name wasn’t on any of my customer lists. I checked and rechecked, assuring her I would do whatever it took to fix this for her. But I simply couldn’t find a single record of any purchase in her name.

I asked her how she knew I had accepted her credit card number. She said she’d talked extensively to her customer service rep, and he’d repeated the name “Durable Goods” several times. On her own, she’d Googled that, found my website, and contacted me.

A glimmer of understanding dawned. I asked her to repeat exactly what the credit card company rep had said to her. “He said, ‘A charge at Brown’s BackCountry Sports, sporting goods. Black’s Apparel, women’s clothing; and Audio Heaven, durable goods'”, she replied.

Aha!

I explained to her that “sporting goods”, “women’s clothing” and “durable goods” were not the NAMES of the businesses, but the DESCRIPTIONS of the businesses. “Durable Goods” was simply the kind of store her card had been used at.

We called and confirmed it with her credit card company rep. She apologized profusely and hung up. I collapsed back into my chair, highly relieved to be cleared of credit card fraud.

But then I thought of the massive number of fraud and identity theft……

I thought of all the frantic and upset victims trying to sort out all the information passed on to them by their respective credit card companies….

I thought about the tens of thousands of stores selling HDTV’s, computers, stereo equipment, washing machines, computers, all excellent targets for hot cards.

I thought about all the stores with the business description “durable goods”….

Damn the torpedoes, full steam ahead! Within two weeks I had renamed my business to…..Luann Udell.

A last incident made me realize I’d made a smart decision. That same day, I received a phone call on my business line. I chirped, “Durable Goods!”

“What?? Gerbil Goods??” a quavering elderly voice stammered.

I laughed and repeated my name. She’d misdialed, so I helped her sort out the right number and sent her on her way.

My father-in-law said I really should have taken that name. He claimed that Gerbil Goods in Keene, New Hampster was just too good to pass up.

OH, THOSE CATS….

And now, a short break from my regularly serious program…. Trying to stay sane as our giant snowstorm turns into a giant cold and gray rainy day.

Today I read a short news item in our local newspaper about the newest recipient of Britain’s Dickin medal.

The Dickin medal, awarded to animals in wartime for bravery and devotion to duty, is the highest military honor an animal can receive. A bomb-sniffing black Lab in Afghanistan named Treo won it this year.

I was intrigued by this about the medal: “It has been presented to 63 animals since its inception in 1943, including 32 World War II carrier pigeons, three horses and a cat.”

Thirty-two pigeons. One cat. What gives??

Wikipedia says this about the cat’s win:

1949: Simon – the ship’s cat on HMS Amethyst during the Yangtze Incident, noted for surviving injuries from a cannon shell, raising morale and killing off a rat infestation during the incident, by doing this duty despite being wounded. He was raised to the fanciful rank of “Able Seacat” and awarded a campaign medal. The medal was sold by the Royal Navy and is now a valuable collectors item, partly because Simon has been the only cat to win the medal

I don’t know why I think it’s so funny that only one cat has won. For sure there’s just something about them being beaten out by so many birds that tickles my funny bone.

Granted, cats are just not very reliable when it comes to delivering messages, except for the occasional “Yo! I’m outta cat fud!” one. Or when they eat YOUR food instead.

On the other hand, I think this kitty really does deserves a medal!

We Interrupt Our Program….OPEN STUDIO!!

Yes, you’re invited, and you, and you, and you!

Just in case you’re my mom (which you aren’t, because my parents have never been online. NEVER.) DO NOT call me and ask me if I’m lying dead in a ditch somewhere. A call which always came at 7 a.m. on Saturday mornings when I was in college, following a period where I had been incommunicado too long, and which always baffled me, because this was way, way before cell phones and so if I actually ANSWERED the phone, how could I be dead in a ditch somewhere??

I digress…. Because I HAVE been incommunicado. I have a good reason:

I’m getting ready for another open studio this weekend. And you’re invited!

In some ways, I’m on top of this one. The studio didn’t get too, too messy since my last one, there was a lot of publicity because it’s part of the NH Open Doors Tour, and I’m not driving myself crazy about preparations. For example, I’m not going to vacuum again unless the dog barfs. (Keeping my fingers crossed here….)

But in other ways, I’m behind–as always. I didn’t do any personal promotion–no postcards mailed out to my customers. (I’m kicking myself here.) I decided to redo all my signage. Even though there’s not a year’s mess in here, there’s still a mess.

And I’m adding my usual personal anxiety to the mix. I once had a party where only one person showed up. It was traumatic. She was a very nice person, and we did do damage to a bottle of tequila (which promptly did damage to me, which is why I never drink tequila anymore, but that’s a story for another day.) But I still enter each entertainment venture with a sinking feeling that says, “And what if nobody comes this time, either??”

So help me not support my therapist single-handedly. Come to my Open Studio this Saturday and Sunday, Nov. 7 & 8, from 10-5, or pass the word on to someone you think would enjoy it. Tell them what you want for Christmas (if I happen to make something you’d want for Christmas) and tell them it’s only available here. This weekend.

And we will be BFF. Especially if you are the only person who comes.

P.S. Full disclosure: To be fair, at the time of that party, I was living in a 10’x10′ room in a rooming house. I think everyone was afraid we were going to stay there.

P.P.S. And I kinda forgot to tell everybody til the last minute. Which is why I probably deserve to have slow open studios, since history is repeating itself here…..

ALMOST ANOTHER EXPENSIVE PUPPY LESSON

The things you have to check on when you own a puppy!

We’ve been pecking away all week at a pile of eight cords of firewood, stacking it onto pallets in our yard.

Our new puppy, Tuck, loves to help. He also loves chewing on wood. Consequently, just as we turn to pitch a chunk of wood from the pile to the pallets, we often see Tuck merrily pouncing on a wood chip just where we’re ready to chuck. Fortunately, we’ve always managed to “un-chuck” in time. But we could tell how this would end if we didn’t do something different.

So Jon has taken to tying Tuck up to a long clothesline while he works. Plenty of room to romp, and access to nice chewy chunks of wood, but keeping him out of harm’s way.

Today’s nearly expensive lesson hinges on exactly what the other end of the clothesline is tied to. Sometimes it’s a wheelbarrow, sometimes it’s a tree trunk. Sometimes…..wait, I’m getting ahead of my story here.

Yesterday I was running late for an appointment. I jumped into my car, did my three-point turn to head out of the driveway, and headed out to the street.

Halfway down the driveway, I heard a horrendous noise and the entire car shook. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the passenger side rear view mirror wobble. Wha….???

I braked immediately. What did I break now?? I got out to take a look.

Someone….someone…had tied Tuck’s clothesline to that rear view mirror. No, Tuck was not still attached. (I would have noticed that!)

But when they’d brought Tuck inside, they’d untied him at his collar, and left the clothesline attached to the mirror.

And as I whipped down the driveway, the trailing rope had gotten run over by my rear tire, jerking the rope. And nearly yanking the mirror off my car.

Fortunately, I’d stopped in time. So I still have my mirror, although it looks a little bendy right now.

Who knew that once you own a dog, you have to do a walk-around check of your car before you drive it, to see if someone has tied a rope to it??

EXPENSIVE PUPPY LESSON

Where NOT to let your dog ride in a car.

We just learned a very expensive lesson today.

When we go in the car, our puppy Tuck rides in the back seat, preferably on the floor. He immediately would scrunch under the driver’s seat, which we thought was cute. “Oh, look!” I’d say, “He’s trying to get closer to us without actually getting in front!” (Which isn’t allowed.)

Two days ago, my “air bag” warning light came on. I took it in to the Subaru dealer today.

The service manager called me back a few minutes ago with an odd questions.

“Do you have a dog?” he asked.

“Yep”, I replied. How did he know??

“Is it a small dog?” he asked.

Wow, I thought, this guy is amazing! “Yes, he’s a puppy.”

Then I thought, did Tuck poop in the car??

Nope. Much worse. And much more expensive.

Turns out our little Tuck chewed through the air bag harness which is located…..under the driver’s seat. It will take at least four days for a new one to be sent, and it will cost $545 for the harness and it will take 2-3 hours of labor.

Oh my.

So here is my public service announcement: Do not let your darling little puppy-or-small-dog crawl under the car seats.

Because in addition to the candy wrappers/empty pop cans/gas receipts/other assorted trash, there is evidently a pricey little part under there that dogs just love to chew.

That, or Tuck is actually a gold-digging puppy who hoped to inherit our estate after we were killed in a car crash.

Naughty Tuck! But he’s in good company, as you can see from our other pets who create havoc with their chewing.

SMALL THOUGHTS @ LARGE

Something useful, something interesting, something funny and something wise. You get to decide which is which.

Instead of a loooooong deep heavy post today, just some little thoughts and things of interest I’ve read in the last day or so….

From the June 2009 issue of Real Simple magazine, Kristin Appenbrink in the “Moneywise” section calculates that the Lewis and Clark Expedition (St. Louis, MO to Oregon, with nine states in between) today would cost about $308 for gas, roundtrip. I wonder if L & C would think that was wonderful or depressing? Of course, traveling by car, they also never would have met Sacajawea, and she was pretty cool.

From the June 2009 issue of Family Circle magazine, “Health News” by Jane Bianchi features little D+Caf Caffeine test strips to see if your restaurant coffee really is decaf. Sort of like a pregnancy test for coffee.

I tried this cool little free tutorial from JewelryLessons.com on how to oxidize sterling silver with an egg. It was the best one I found online, involving the least mess, with great illustrations. Thank you to Sarah and Jen from tae kwon do, who, when I described the method to them last night, pointed out that I might want to recheck the part where you put the egg and jewelry back in the microwave to heat up. Yep, you’re right, I missed the part where the author said to take the jewelry out first.

I’m at that point in life where, when I put on eye shadow, my eyelid skin stays where the brush pushes it. Scary, but funny, too.

And the words that jumped out at me the last week or so were, “Life is too short to lose good friends.”

Enjoy!

WILL THE REAL LUANN PLEASE STAND UP?

So should you believe everything you read here? Getting to the real “me” can be tricky.

Someone wrote me recently, commenting on the phenomenon that many writers don’t actually resemble in real life the personae they’ve created in their writing (or in their online presence.) People who seem so saintly are actually kinda mean and petty. People who seem so forthright and opinionated in online forums are actually too shy to ever say what they really mean in real life.

How do you know anyone is who they say they are??

Coincidentally, another friend recently accused me changing a word or two when I quoted him in an article. I lied, he said.

So…Are all writers liars??

My first reaction was, Ruh-ruh. They’re on to me.

I try to be calm and loving and accepting, always looking for the lesson, always looking for the other side of a situation.

But sometimes that all goes out the window when someone cuts me off in traffic, or when somebody gives me attitude. Or when I simply don’t get what I want.

I try to to be cheerful and upbeat, and a good friend.

But sometimes I just want to crawl in a hole and die. Sometimes even my best friends really piss me off. Or worse, are highly annoying.

Much as I pour my heart and soul into these articles, you can’t get around the fact that I write them.

I get to decide what parts I put in and what parts I leave out. I get to frame the problem, and I get to position the answer.

I get to be too hard on myself, and I get to fudge the happy ending.

So who IS the real Luann?

1. Is she the compassionate and wise, thoughtful and kind person some people think she is?

2. Or is she the verbally quick and bright-haired woman who always feels she has to be the smartest and funniest person in the room?

3. Is she the loving mother who will fight fiercely for her children’s right to simply be who they are? The supportive wife who is always there for her husband?

4. Or is she the screaming shrew who actually once yelled at one of them, “If I had a pointy stick, so help me God I’d use it right now!” Or the bickering partner who says, “You know I’m right, so why don’t you save us both some time and just throw in the towel on this argument now?”

5. Is she the writer who publicly shares a struggling, sometimes painful spiritual journey to understand her place in the world, with anyone out there who will listen?

6. Or is she the self-righteous indignant and angry crabby person who still has the self-awareness to laugh when the writer Ann Lamott writes,

“You can safely assume that you’ve created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.”

7. Is she a person with a core of hot truth who examines what role she plays in the sad places of her life, and willingly embrace the lessons she finds there?

8. Or is she the idiot who falls back into the same patterns that didn’t work before, and has to learn those same lessons over and over and over again?

9. Is she the nicest person you ever met?

10. Or is she so empty inside, she still believes that being nice is more important than being honest/whole/self-reliant/herself.

11. Is she brave and fearless in her approach to love, life and art?

12. Or is she hanging on desperately to what she already knows, because anything else is too terrifying to contemplate?

13. Is she an amazing artist whose work with texture, color, mixed media and narrative has resulted in a formidable body of work?

14. Or is she that woman who spent an hour in Home Depot’s paint section, agonizing over what color to paint her bathroom?

15. Is she someone who understands this is her journey in life, accepting it with a whole heart (only having to be dragged kicking and screaming to the next step occasionally), doing the best she can? That it’s not about what others think of us or what we do, we just need to do the right thing?

16. Or is she fearful that others might think she is putting on a pretty good but false persona, too?

Answer:
a. All the odd-numbered statements.
b. All the even-numbered statements
c. Some of the above.
d. All of the above.
e. None of the above.

If I’m learning anything in this strange journey called life, it’s that we’re all very different, and that has to be honored. And we all have a lot in common. A lot.

We all have our dark side, and our bright side. We all struggle to love and be loved, and by the “right” people, too. We all want to be recognized for the incredible things we do, and we all wish the bad things could go in a closet somewhere, forever.

We all have the “inner work” to do, and most of us will never finish it. In fact, some of us will never even acknowledge there is inner work to do. “Oh, that’s, someone else’s inner work!” they’ll exclaim. (I just corrected a typo here that read “sinner work” & realized, that works, too….)

And they’ll be right, too. (And wrong.)

You see where I’m going with this.

If you met me for the first time, and I were having a good day, you might think I’m delightful and funny. Or you might think I simply talk too much.

If you met me on a bad day, you might think I was thoughtful, a compassionate and ready listener. Or you might think I have a chip on my shoulder the size of a Buick, and I whine too much.

Some people love the fact that three years ago, for the first time in my life, I dyed my hair. A deep, rich, intense auburn color. They think it’s brave and cheeky and fun and artistic. Other people think it’s pathetic that a woman my age is so desperately hanging on to her youth. Who does she think she’s kidding??!

The real me? Your guess is as good as mine. I only know it seems important right now to accept all these things as true. Without judgment or censure. Without pride or smugness.

Because what I do, or what I think, or what I have, or what I choose, are all aspects of myself that could disappear in a heartbeat. What is left then?

And that’s what my journey is about.

Because I think what I’m going to find out is, who I really am–just me–in the end, is something much, much bigger–and much, much simpler–than all of these other things.

And that will be….enough.

Just remember. We’re all in this together, and nobody gets out alive.

p.s. My friend, who has mental illness, objected to my use of the word “crazy” to describe the way he’d “altered” his rented room. So perhaps I should have been more sensitive to his condition and used a less volatile adjective.

On the other hand, the other word he complained about was just way too picky. So I think–you guessed it!–we’re both right.

MY COLUMN GOES LIVE!

Today I received my first digital copy of The Crafts Report. And for the first time ever, my column is available on line!

I can’t seem to post a direct link, so double-click on the “contents” tab at the top of the page. I’m the “Craft Matters” column on page, 78, “You Might Be an Artist If…”

I’m feeling…..[in]famous.

P.S. A friend sent me this link to the work of Carl Warner, who took the first “You might be an artist if….” to heart. Warning: It might make you hungry!

MY FAVORITE THINGS

I’m not very literate when it comes to social media and netiquette. I usually mess up email chain letters, and I have a habit of checking out email rumors and urban hoaxes. I don’t have a blog roll, and though I have bajillions of bookmarks for favorite sites, truth is, I don’t actually use them that much.

That said, I do have places on the Internet I enjoy. So here is a cyber-Christmas present for you today–just a list of some places I think are cool, or sweet, or interesting, or just plain fun, in no particular order. (I tried not to duplicate my I’ve Been Tagged! post from a few weeks ago….)

If you like old beads, you will love The Bead Collector Network, especially their BCN online forum. It focuses on ancient beads and trade beads, but segues into other beads from time to time. Check out the brand new gallery section, featuring over 16,000 images of beads recently compiled by forum hosts Joyce And David Holloway. You can get lost for days viewing great images of unusual, collectible beads.

If you need a giggle, check out I Can Haz Cheezburger?, a site filled with pics of cats doing silly things, with equally silly captions. Hint: The captions are written in ‘text message’ style, hence the odd abbreviations and misspellings. Plus, if cats could text, it would look like this because paws aren’t as dexterous as thumbs when it comes to punching those tiny keys…. My all-time personal favorite is this one, because it brings back memories of me & my sibs searching the couch for $$ after my dad took a nap.

Supposedly there’s a similar site for dogs, but my heart couldn’t take it.

If you have a friend…you know the kind of friend I mean…who reads all those email hoaxes and feels it is their mission in life to alert everyone they know to the imminent dangers of say, canola oil or if you are one of those people, then this hoax-busting site is for you. There are others, but Snopes is pretty good, and I’ve grown to rely on it when someone sends me an email telling me about Bill Gates’s latest give-away.

Of course, some of these stories are true. Which makes it all more fun.

Have I shared the website of zefrank before?

If you haven’t tried Twitter, be careful–it’s as addictive as Facebook. But a little less cluttered. Here’s me on Twitter, and don’t say I didn’t warn you. I would share my Facebook link, but I can’t handle any more pokes, ornaments or the myriad other requests I’ve received that simply baffle me.)

Okay, I’m only saying this for those people who, like me, really like knowing how a movie or book ends before we read it. (I will not respond to your snide comments from those of you who don’t. I’ve heard them all before, believe me.) But if you share this secret sin, then The Movie Spoiler is the site for you.

I’ve taken up knitting again, but not too many knitting blogs. Mostly because the people that write them actually finish projects, which makes me feel bad about myself since I have been reduced to simple hats and scarves due to lack of concentration and an overabundance of guilt about not doing other things. But I do like Yarn Ball Boogie, despite the fact that he not only finishes projects, he finishes difficult projects, but he’s snide and funny and outrageous, too. So that makes it okay.

My two favorite yarn websites are Webs whose warehouse of sale yarns is dangerously close to Keene, NH, and KnitPicks, with really good sales and hugely affordable wool/llama yarns from Peru.

I thought this virtual makeover was fun enough to bookmark, though all my makeovers come out very similar. Hmmmmmm…..

I don’t know why, but I like this fun little site about things you can make with stuff from the dollar store.

I adore Christine Kane’s blog, but some of her articles really resonate. Especially this one on business advice for sensitive artist types.

If you like little peeks into other people’s lives (mostly funny, sometimes poignant) and you haven’t discovered Found Magazine’s website yet, then you are in for a treat. It’s made me more careful about what I put in writing.

I’m almost embarrassed to admit how quickly I can become intrigued with wholesale lots of memo pads and Powerpuff Girl 3-D stickers, but I’m guessing it’s my brain’s version of junk food. Still, some people find great ideas for free-gift-with-every-order-over-$50–those who plan ahead enough to check this surplus site ahead of time, or who have enough storage space for freight pallets of Christmas wrapping paper…. (Now you know where the stuff in dollar stores and on Ebay wholesale lots comes from.)

The first time I made my own portrait avatar, I used this fun little website to do it. I’m much cuter in person. (cough, cough.)

The Strongbad cartoon site was the very first site my daughter shared with me, when she was in middle school, and I’ve kept it bookmarked for sentimental purposes. Plus, I can’t get the memorable phrase “My blood hurts” (from one of the stories) out of my head.

Whenever anyone asks me a question about polymer clay, I refer them to the Glass Attic website. And a good place to see what people around the world are making with polymer clay, I check in with Cynthia Tinapple’s Polymer Clay Daily. Sometimes it’s lovely, sometimes it’s silly, sometimes it’s astonishing, but it’s all polymer clay.

Okay, should be able to get into some kind of trouble with all this. Be sure to send me some of your favorites. Because it’s Christmas, after all, and we have to do something after drinking all that rum-spiked eggnog tomorrow.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

PROCRASTINATION

Today I have a cop-out post. I’m posting this link to a friend’s article on procrastination.

Don’t put it off–read it today! (get it?)

MY EARS AND YOURS

My main frenzy for clearing out and decluttering has dropped off a little. But the tendency is still there, and I continue to purge in smaller “bites”. (That’s a weird sentence. Sorry.)

A few days ago I attacked my personal jewelry stash on my bedroom dresser. I picked out all the pieces I love and wear, and put them in my collection of vintage 1940’s jewelry boxes. The rest came down to my studio to be cleaned and sold, or stripped for parts.

I came across several pairs of large sterling silver hoop earrings. I absolutely love ’em, and I had three pairs to prove it.

But I never wear them. As I cleaned the tarnish off, I wondered why?

When I put them on, one look in the mirror reminded me. I’m convinced that my ears lie too close to my head. So when I wear hoops, they stick out and look like a second pair of ears.

I started to put them in the “sell” pile, but stopped.

Every so often I get a few people in my booth or at an open studio tell me they can’t wear a particular style of jewelry because of something odd about their body.

Their neck is too short, their ears are crooked, their shoulders are too big, their neck is too thin. Then they put that piece of jewelry on to prove it to me.

They look beautiful.

I can with perfect honesty say I have never looked at a person wearing jewelry and thought, “Her neck is too short to wear that.” I have never ever noticed that someone’s ears are crooked. (I only notice if their ears are missing…)

I rarely notice if people have big feet or not. I don’t even remember ever looking at someone’s feet–until they say they have big feet, and then, of course, we all look.

The shopper won’t believe me, of course. I might just be trying to sell her something. So I ask other customers. Sure enough, everyone chimes in with positive feedback.

Of course, we’re ALL shaped a little differently. And we’re all beautiful in different ways. I’m always taken aback to hear a woman I think is drop-dead gorgeous complain about her nails, or her ankles, or her eyebrows. My daughter, who exudes health and confidence, told me recently her hair is too thin to wear in braids.

She looks adorable in braids.

I don’t know where this comes from. I don’t know why we do it. I don’t know how to make that critical little voice go away.

But I took a deep breath, and left the hoop earrings in.

If I side-swipe someone with them today, okay, I’ll take them off.

But maybe I’ll buy some more, too. Some really, really BIG ones.

p.s. Oh, I forgot–hoops get in the way when I’m on the phone. I just tried to call someone and the earring hit the “end” button. That’s why I don’t where them at home.

And the latest p.s. I just saw an magazine ad in OPRAH magazine featuring Catherine Zeta Jones (for Elizabeth Arden’s Red Door Fragrance) and she’s wearing big hoop earrings and one is sticking straight out! And it accentuates the lovely curve of her neck….

That does it, I’m gonna wear my whoppin’ big hoops somewhere tonight!

KITTEN THERAPY

I’m slowly returning to normal activities, and my spirit continues to mend, too.

It was a shock to learn that the spirit can take longer than the body to recover from a long year of injuries and setbacks. It was a good lesson to learn, though. I think I’ve gained more compassion for others in the same boat. You can handle one setback, another and another. But at some point, your soul just wants to hunker down and run.

We’ve always heard that when we are down in the dumps, it can help to reach out and help others. It’s a good way to get us outside our own heads, a way to move and act without being totally self-referential.

But if even that seems like too much, here’s a lower-threshold spiritual treatment I can almost guarantee will provide the same benefit:

Kittens.

There’s something about kitten antics that makes everything else weighing on your heart just fly away.

Everything is wildly interesting to them–the hem of your jeans, the tie on your robe, the cord on your window shades, the dryer lint in the waste basket, the bug crawling on the floor.

They jump, bounce, flounce, roll, and cry piteously when their tail is, in turn, mistaken for a toy by a sibling.

And if you get tired of dealing with a hamburger-sized ball of fuzz that sees everything in the world as attackable, there’s always an exhausted yet hugely grateful mom-cat who’s happy to simply sit and be petted.

Now, you don’t have to rush out and buy kittens. In fact, there’s a great way to have an (almost) everlasting supply of kittens on hand.

You can be a kitten foster care provider.

One of our favorite family volunteer projects is to act as a foster home for our local humane society. When they receive a pregnant cat or a mom-cat with young kittens, they quickly place them in homes for temporary care–about one to three months, or until the kittens are old enough to be safely adopted.

This gives the mothers a calm, loving environment outside the shelter. It gives the new family a haven from all the diseases that course through a shelter. It ensures the kittens get maximum socialization with humans, critical to their emotional development as family pets.

And as a side effect, our family gets to enjoy kittens in all their glory for two months.

Just when they reach those teenage years (in kitten time), they are all ready to go back to the humane society. The mom cats, unfortunately, may have to wait for new homes. But at least the kittens are adopted quickly, usually within a week. Although I confess, our current pair of cats, our clown-cat Chai and our nervous-nelly cat Moxie, were both former mom-cats in our home.

The layout of our home allows us to set up a foster cat station apart from the other critters. Our two regulars know something is going on, of course. Suddenly, interesting food is delivered to a room that’s now off-limits to them, and they aren’t allowed to drink out of the bathtub faucet anymore. Their bewilderment is palpable, and their attempts to convince us that they need that extra nice cat food, too are amusing.

Our latest batch came to us last week. The mom-cat has been christened “Juno”, after the movie with the young pregnant teen heroine of the same name, because she is so outrageously young herself. (A visitor, on seeing her emerge from the “nesting box”, exclaimed, “That’s the mother??

The kittens are tiny, and just now starting to open their eyes. Three golden mackerel tabbies (probably male), two black torties (probably female.)

They’re really too young to play with yet, and Juno waits anxiously nearby when we handle them, ready to snatch them back at the least little peep out of them.

But already, everything is delightfully right in the world.

P.S. This works with puppies and bunnies, too.

HAT DISASTER UPDATE

Robin has insisted I change that word to “underwear” and I have.

And she made me put in that we did that when she was a baby, which is true.

And she says she loves the H.D. and wants to try it on when it’s dry (presumably to see how far down her nose it comes.

And the second hat (periwinkle!) is looking good, though far too warm (wool) for Seattle.

And today I’m going yarn-shopping with another friend at Webs, an incredible yarn store/warehouse in Northampton, MA.

So yarn will be found. Purple yarn. Not wool.

HAT DISASTER

It started out innocently enough.

I just wanted to knit a few hats for a friend. And maybe a baby sweater for another friend expecting his first child.

“I’ll surprise her with a hat!” I thought. Then I read in a forum that this can be a bad idea.

I emailed her to ask her if 1) she wanted a hat; 2) if so, please choose from an assortment of online patters I’d found; and 3) what colors she would like.

She emailed back with not only her color and style choices, but she ran out to actually buy a few balls of yarn and sent them to me.

And now the sad tale begins.

I have tons of yarn. I have a barn attic full of yarn. Not only do I have a lot of yarn (did I mention I have a LOT of yarn?), in my search for the appropriate yarns, I found another huge stash of yarn in another attic that’s been there since we moved into this house eight years ago. (I forgot all about it. Hey, that’s where all my brown yarn and mohair yarns went!)

Turns out the best yarns for really comfortable hats are not wool. I have mostly wool yarns. Not only mostly wool yarns, I have very few yarns suitable for soft hats and baby sweaters. In fact–none.

And, although if you’d asked me three months ago what colors of yarn I have, I would have happily exclaimed, “Every color under the sun!”, it turns out I actually have only a warm palette of yarn.

Lots of rust. Tons of turquoise. Many, many soft greens. Gold, pumpkin, orange. Periwinkle blue. Even red. Even a teensy bit of black.

No fuchias. No purples. No bright clear blues or corals.

I’ve also rediscovered why I don’t actually knit that much.

Although I am a competent knitter, and read about knitting voraciously, although I know four different ways to increase stitches, although I conscientiously knit gauge swatch after gauge swatch, although I broke down and bought tons of new knitting needles because I have lost my entire stash in my attic (I hate my attic! It’s too good for storing stuff), although I picked the easiest pattern (a beret–I have knit many berets before) and experimented with dozens of yarns to find the perfect ones….

I actually have a rather profound and pronounced inability to follow directions.

I found all this out this weekend when I spent three straight days knitting what I desperately wanted to be the perfect hat.

And ended up with a giant, floppy, heavy, heather gray-purple hat that is completely unwearable even by me.

And because it’s mostly silk/angora, it won’t even felt down into shape.

And I can’t add elastic to the the cuff/brim (which is way, way too big and loose) because that would be too harsh on tender skin.

Maybe I can make a bag out of it. Or give it to my darlin’ daughter, who looks marvelous in anything she puts on her head. I swear you could give her a pair of underpants underwear to put on her head, and she could pull it off. In fact, I think we tried this once, and she did indeed look good with underwear on her head.

Back to the drawing board.

p.s. Hey! Maybe I could make a bag out of it!

ME BUFFY

Okay, last night my husband and I watched the movie, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. We’ve always liked it and think it deserves a better rating than “one star.” Paul Rueben’s (aka Pee-wee Herman) death scene is interminable–and funny! Hillary Swank plays the part of one of Buffy’s obnoxious girlfriends. And I was right–I thought I spotted Ben Affleck in a one second scene, and it was him!

Anyway, I dreamed that night that I was Buffy. (Quit laughing.) I killed vampires right and left. They followed me everywhere–into my house, into the streets, and even into a grocery store. (What was THAT about??)

And my wooden stakes were……(can you guess?)

Pencils. Knitting needles. And artist paintbrushes!