Gratitude

Nicest firing ever. I went to receive my thanks and got this most excellent loot. I guess they really did like my work, and maybe even me. I didn't cry until after I got home. it must have been too much chocolate cake.

I like having farmers for friends. My grandmother on my mom's side homesteaded in a soddy in Nebraska, and my mom grew up on that farm, so I have farming in me deep. I wish I were a farmer, except they really work their bodies much harder than I would be able to at this point. But anyway, they will still have my heart, even if I don't get to participate on the same level.

This other photo is the Christmas present I got for my nerd son. There are two more erlenmeyers still on the way. He wants these to use as dishes in his kitchen, a domestic statement I find delightful. I just use canning jars myself, pints for coffee and quarts for herb tea and ice water. This is more officially scientific.

The apron in the background is for me, one of the things I got at Holiday Market last week, made by Anna. I couldn't believe it was still there on Sunday, must have had my name on it. I make a practice of buying myself gifts at Christmas, since I just hate not getting them. My family all opts for the giving to charities in the name of the giftee, which is of course a noble practice and one for which it would be tacky and graceless to raise an objection.

I myself can't afford that, though technically I suppose I could make small donations, because everything helps. Maybe in a way I do that, attempting to buy from as many local businesses and market people as I can, spreading the Holiday Market money around. It's not that I'm selfish, but I like the personal aspect of gifting, the delight part. I guess I like the small scale.

My relatives live bigger and have more money, so that is what they want to give, rather than stuff. None of us really need more stuff, the thinking goes. Probably none of them need more money, plus it would be silly for us to give money to each other. Still, my inner two-year old feels like they are giving away all my presents. I guess I still need lessons in not being greedy and acquisitive.

This craftsperson's life isn't all that different from farming, with the selling outside and the weather-adapting that comes with that, and the cyclical patterns of the productive year. Working for oneself is always risky, though not as risky as farming. There's plenty of working tedious jobs in isolation, planning on future return from producing now, and depending on the vagaries of the marketplace. I really see little difference in the people on the two sides of 8th, or presently, down the hall.

I do feel wonderful about the orientation of the Saturday Market toward people. We have so many members, with such a strong sense of equality. In our isolation we think each of us is having a unique, often imperiled existence, but really we are bringing our commonality to the marketplace. We all want to be at least moderately successful, to receive praise and reward, and to get to go back to the studio with the means to make more of our art. Most of us make all kinds of art, including food, music, and the many types of visual and spiritual creativity. It's an explosion when we get together, a barely tamed fireworks of our best.

We touch our worst in the process. We get anxious and selfish and resentful and scared of each other and ourselves. We get protective and secretive, but also open wide, and caring. We cross boundaries, and step on other people's toes. We have great ideas and terrible ones.

But we keep coming down there to the corner and trying. We don't want to give up. The old joke about the craftsperson who won the lottery is that when asked what he would do with his newfound life, he answered that he would probably just keep doing what he was doing until the money ran out.

I really miss those doggone farmers. I didn't want to go away. I guess I won't, just will change the way I serve them to some other method. Maybe I will make good on the threats I've made to go out to their farms and turn their compost piles.

Meanwhile, I'm busy making stuff for the festival of lightness we are staging on the weekends at the County Fairgrounds. Very busy. I'll have new scarves this week and will wear my new apron.

It's also time to raise money for the Saturday Market's Kareng Fund, an emergency relief fund for members suffering a career-threatening crisis. T-shirts that say "I make stuff" have been a big hit in the past, and this year I have a new idea. I'm closing out my kids line and have lots of shirts that say "I make stuff up". It never really worked for kids, since people don't want to encourage them to lie, which is a joke for adults but one of those complicated ones.

So I'm printing a little market basket over the "up" on the shirts, so they say I make stuff Saturday Market style. I think it works. I can still see the word under there, but that's okay. We like recycling down at the Market. It's just another one of the million brilliant ideas that come and go in a typical week, month, year.

Anyway, I'll be selling them for $5 apiece to make money for the Kareng Fund. I guess I could do it in my family's name. Keeping little people warm and busy, one at a time, doing my part so that creativity will never be out of style.