Part 2: Tried and True Steps for Craft Show Preparation

Day Before Show:

1. Do something practical (robot story cards, price jewelry, etc.).
2. Take a nap.
3. Wake up with sinking feeling about previously forgotten "to do's."
4. Start locating scattered equipment for show set-up.
5. Sigh.
6. Put off packing as long as possible.
7. Ask self why I do this.  Repeat often.

Part 1: Tried and True Steps for Craft Show Preparation

One Week Before Show:

1. Realize the need for more "products."
2. Make a mess in the main living area.
3. Yell at children daily for playing in that area.
4. Procrastinate.  Finish nothing.
5. Experience vague stress.
6. Make a list of things left to do.
7. Ignore list.
8. Industriously make sub-lists.

Two Days Before Show:

1. Recognize actual depths of prior procrastination. 
2. Experience real stress.
3. Try to finish something.  Anything.
4. Re-make list . . . in red ink this time.
5. Fill mind with self-delusions.
6. Decide to spend evening watching tv, not working.

Climbing Out of the Pit

I like gray, but more often than not, I am a black and white person . . . but I'm not talking color palette (there, I'm orange all the way).  I often see things one way and am not easily swayed to change that view. 

So for the past few weeks, I've been sitting in a pit of indecision with an either/or dilemna mocking me from above:  To Pursue or To Chuck Remnants by RJ.

You see, life has thrown me a curve ball (some of you may know what I'm talking about and others of you will find out before too long, I'm sure).  So how can I dedicate myself to robots and steampunk when my life will be overtaken by force before too long?  Black.  White.

However, today I have decided to muster all my "grayness" and try to simply do my best with Remnants by RJ.  I can pretend to be an adult and accept that some decisions may have to be compromised in the coming months. 

I can do both.  Right?

How Did I Get Here?

Poop bribery.

That's where I am in my life.  Instead of feeling like a creative force to be reckoned with, I am drained dry by the mundane.

My little assistant tricked me.  He started off potty-training remarkably well.  So naturally, I began to feel relieved . . . and proud of my fantastic parenting skills.

Fast forward a couple of weeks.  Me, gagging uncontrollably while trying to wash mushy poop out of tiny Lightning McQueen underwear.  (Too much info perhaps?)

Enter bribery.  One prize for one poop IN the potty.

 

Is this really my life?

(By the way, we are still pre-prize winning.  He has yet to obtain one of these fantastic items.  Now to find somewhere high to put them . . . )

I'm Practically a Part of Geek Squad Now

 
Warning:  Today, I dabbled in the crazy world of technology.  That's right, I made a coupon code on Etsy. 

Okay, so it was like riding a push-button horse, and my little assistant could've done it, BUT the coupon exists nevertheless.

This weekend only, use the code FREESHIP during checkout at my Etsy shop, and you'll get . . . wait for it . . . wait . . . free shipping!

Amazing.  I know.

The Coolness Factor

I passed a minivan today with a bumper sticker on the back window which read "I used to be cool."

Boy, don't I know it!  Now, I am self-aware enough to realize I've never really been "cool," but the me that exists now is seriously less cool than the me I once was . . . which might mean I am now lost in a black hole of non-coolness, destined to define the apex of anti-cool.

For example, I wanted to take a picture of the minivan, but my cell phone is so old and basic that it doesn't even have a camera feature.

(And, yes, I just searched "Saved by the Bell" and "cell phone."  Not very cool.)

I'm 34, I have three boys, and I wear robot t-shirts.  I would not say I'm aging like a fine wine--perhaps more expiring like a gallon of chocolate milk--but aging, I am. 

I find myself frequently questioning the age appropriateness of teenage drivers.  They all look twelve to me.  Do their mothers know they took the car out?  And how did that other kid get a job?  Aren't child labor laws enforced? 

Of course, there's other signs, too.  My music library is primarily 80's music--I often find myself not understanding a lot of today's lyrics.  Are they speaking English?  Am I supposed to know what they're saying?  

And a good time to me is having a John Hughes' film marathon . . . maybe even in the middle of the week! 

I suppose I could continue to list my aging, non-cool attributes at length, but here's my main takeaway:  There are other people in the world who only "used to be cool," too.

In fact, there's a whole website for us:  www.iusedtobecool.com.  Maybe you'll see me in a "I used to be cool" robot t-shirt one of these days.  You never know.

A Sweaty Vanna White

My faithful little assistant was very excited about a package I got in the mail today.  It's a vintage Cricket lamp that I'm hoping to robot-ize.  He, of course, thinks it's his.

Between basketball with Jedi-7 and lamp-loving, he got a little sweaty.

(By the way, yes, I am aware he's wearing odd pajama pants in the middle of the afternoon.  We're potty training, and he can't pull jeans down on his own.  I swear I have real clothes for public consumption.)