Monday Morning

Hello, hello! How are you? I hope that, wherever you are, the weather isn't too hideous--too cold or frigid or wet or dry. Here? It's dry. Very, very dry.

But this isn't a weather report, so never mind. This morning I've already finished up the green faux shearling cape--sewing and tying the ribbons--but I can't show it to you because there's no way for me to wear it and photograph it unless I set up the tripod and then find and read the instructions for the delayed timer. And who has that kind of time, really? Says the woman who just messed with 133 little ribbons.

Now I'm trying to rehab the leather jacket I screwed up by laundering it. Live and learn, live and learn. I think now that I'll stick to suede when it comes to laundering, since I've now messed up two leather pieces. Granted, neither was fabulous before--this jacket was in good shape but was stiff, not nearly as supple as I'd like. Now, of course, it's REALLY stiff. I used some leather cleaner stuff on it, but that didn't do a whole lot. Now I'm using Vaseline.

Now, before you cringe and run screaming from the room, let me say that, yeah, I know it's a petroleum product and is, therefore, From the Devil, and it will clog pores and ruin life as we know it, but, hey. Vaseline is what I've used around my eyes for decades. And on my feet at night, with socks. And when I talked to Stephen, the vintage clothing guy, and asked him what he used to rehab old leather, he said, "Vaseline." I was like, "WOW! Really?" Because it's what I'd been using on leather since I was in high school, when I'd periodically rub it into my leather purses and then buff them. I don't know where I got the idea, and I always figured it was a wacky one that would lead to Ruination and Misery, but it seemed to work great and so I did it anyway. And then it turns out that the guy who's Sold to the Stars, that's what he does, too. Huh. So I'm slowly working on this coat, pausing a lot to let my fingers recover. They're not happy about this, so being a Leather Restorer probably isn't in my future.

I've got some mending to do in betweenst and amongst a bunch of book reviews/peeks/videos for the new website, which is supposed to launch Really, Really Soon. I'll let you know more as soon as *I* know more.

And then there's this that I've been thinking about this weekend, as everyone I know packs up and heads out to CHA and then gets ready for all the art retreats. We went to most of those last year--not CHA, but the art retreats--and people are asking if we're coming again this year. Alas, we're probably not. Last year we were working on the book, which involved going to art retreats for research. We had a blast, but we traveled over 15,000 (someone in this house is supposed to be adding up the mileage and giving it to me. Ahem) miles, and while the organizers were all incredibly generous in providing rooms at the retreats--and in some cases meals, as well--for everything else, we were on our own. I spent the book advance, The EGE's payment for photography, the royalty check for the last book and then depleted my savings. Seems like a lot? Yes, it does:  two people, Las Vegas, Houston, Seattle, Salado (Texas), Hampton (VA--and that whole 42-day, 8002-mile road trip, that included, oh, Minneapolis and Vermont and New York City and Raleigh and Atlanta), Phoenix, and Houston again.

It was great. We had fun. But here's the deal:  we worked almost the whole entire time. We got photos and videos, made contacts, set up interviews and podcasts. It was lovely. It was a ton of work. I was exhausted.

I did not make any money from this. Since I didn't teach, I didn't get paid, of course. Duh. I did this stuff because I love to do it, because I love meeting people and talking to them and finding out about their creative lives. But I can't afford the many thousands of dollars it takes to do this on my own, never mind the generosity of the organizers providing rooms. And I'm having to face the fact that much of what I do benefits other people way, way more than it benefits me, at least in concrete terms. Now, part of that is OK, because I believe that my purpose in life is to spread and encourage creativity. But I also have to realize that the time and money and energy I put into things has to make sense. I'm lousy at financial planning, but even I know that using up your savings to do stuff that offers no future monetary reward is, frankly, insane.

So when I get notes that ask if we're going to be at XYZ, and I go, "Oh, man, that would be so much fun! A's going to be there! And B! And everyone we know!" And I start thinking, "Well, let's see. If I took this much out of savings, and if we slept in the truck and ate peanut butter for a week, and if we drove straight through without stopping, and . . . ."

Insane. Because while we'd get fabulous photos and videos and contacts for articles and agreements to do podcasts, it wouldn't do a bit for me in the way of, oh, preparing for inevitable dental work, for example. Those four baby teeth. Or paying for the website and ISP. Or any of dozens of those boring necessities.

I'm writing about this this morning because we wanted to go to CHA. We would love to go to Adorn Me! in Houston, and to Art and Soul and ArtFest and Art Unraveled. We'd love to go back to Valley Ridge, and there are a bunch more new-to-me art retreats we'd love to go to. But I learned my lesson last year about trying to do this On the Cheap--I'm not spending another night of my life in a skanky La Quinta with other people's hairs caked on the blankets, and I'm not spending the better part of six weeks on the road. I do not sleep in the SUV, never mind that it's the size of a small house.

So what I'm thinking of here lately is how I can do what I love to do--encourage creativity--from right here, in my house in the Middle-of-Nowhere, in virtual isolation. It's daunting, and it's a little depressing sometimes to think of what goes on in other places vs. what goes on here. Yikes. But it's an exciting challenge, too. What can I do from here that will reach other people out there who are, maybe, a little isolated, just like I am? Maybe they wish they were at CHA this weekend, or maybe they'd love to be getting ready to go to Artfest. While I'd love to be able to go there and do videos and show them what it was like, maybe my job is to create something else, something from here--something no less fabulous just because it's not filled with other people working together in exciting and exotic locales. I don't know, but it feels possible, it feels like there's something here, something wonderful and inspiring. I love it when I can feel little ideas bubbling under the surface, things that I can bring to the light and air if I can just grasp them and lift them up.

So while everyone is packing up and calling for a cab for the airport, I'm pouring another cup of coffee and pondering, " What if?"

XO