My good friend Jen turned 40 a couple of months ago. I wanted to give her something special, but what? Jen knits and crochets beautiful things for money and for fun, so I didn’t feel the need to crochet her something. She and her husband already own several dottery mugs and things I’ve painted for them over the years. They live across the country from me, and they’re moving next summer so Jen has been in the process of paring down her family’s belongings for a while. I wanted to send something that she would really enjoy, something that wouldn’t be just one more thing she’d be annoyed to pack next summer.

I was pondering my options when I remembered the photo messages I used to send to far-away friends when I was a kid. My mom would take photos of me holding up a series of signs, each sign with a word or phrase on it. Put together, all the photos would make a complete message. I used to really have fun with it, dressing in different crazy outfits and posing in silly places. I’d send the photos one at a time over the course of a couple of weeks.

And then I had my brilliant idea. I would send Jen 40 pieces of mail for her birthday! Who doesn’t love getting mail? Who doesn’t feel that little thrill when they see an envelope in the mailbox that’s not a bill or a mailer advertising the new carpet-cleaning company? I could send postcards, letters, even the occasional small care package. It wouldn’t break the bank since stamps are relatively cheap, and I already own tons of rarely-used stationery. I would be extending the birthday joy for more than a month—almost two months, as it turned out. And Jen wouldn’t have a fragile or unwieldy new thing to pack (or to feel guilty about getting rid of). Win-win-win!

I didn’t tell Jen what I was doing. I just started sending her numbered mail. It only took her about three days to figure it out. She sent me an email (subject: “Stinker!”) that read:

You’ve been up to something, haven’t you?…It all started to make sense today as my mail started piling up. It was like the ending of an M. Night Shyamalan movie.

I think she meant one of the good M. Night Shyamalan movies. At least, I hope she did.

I sent homemade cookies.

Annalie helped out with a couple of drawings and a bookmark.

I sent a few postcards.

Well, lots of postcards, actually.

Lots and lots of postcards.

I helped Jen face her fear of glitter, because I’m a good friend like that.

I sent her a copy of the soundtrack to Scrubs: My Musical, so that the next time she’s stuck in traffic on the 805 with me and Sonja for four hours and we insist on singing “Everything Comes Down to Poo,” she’ll be able to sing along.

A dime bag of Canadian Smarties. (Inside joke. I told Jen I would send her a box of the Smarties that Jen Wilson had sent me, and Jen said she didn’t need a whole box, that I should just send her a little bag. I said I’d send her a dime bag. It…isn’t really that funny, I guess. But it was hilarious to us.)

A Nebraska care package, when I was visiting Omaha.

A little bag of jelly beans. This is one of those 13-ounces-or-less things, where I just stuck an address label and postage right on the package and dropped it in the mail.

We mailed a little bit of autumn.

I slowed down a lot towards the end. Several days went by between each of the last three or four pieces of mail I sent. I was a little sad it was coming to an end. I had a lot of fun with this project, even more fun than I expected. I think I’ll have to do something like this again sometime.

Finally, six weeks after Jen’s actual birthday, I was sending #40. And what else could possibly be good enough for the final piece of birthday mail except some really, really ridiculously good apricot cookies?

Happy birthday, Jen!

All the mail I sent is in the Flickr photoset 40 pieces of mail.

This is a bowl I painted for Bex and Jeremy. Bex commissioned me to paint it and probably thought she was going to pay for it, but they just got engaged and I was going to give it to them as an engagement present. I’ve had it all wrapped carefully in bubble wrap and sitting in a box for the past week, just waiting for me to make another batch of apricot cookies so I could include a few of those in the box. Last night I baked, so tonight I thought I’d finish getting the package ready to mail.

When I picked up the box, one of the flaps caught on something, and before I could stop it the box tipped sideways and the bowl flipped out and landed upside-down on the hardwood floor. I held my breath as I picked it up, not sure what I’d find, because I’ve dropped pottery before from greater heights with no harm done. But this time it was broken into many pieces plus dozens of chips and a fine layer of dust. It wasn’t even superglueable.

I’m sorry, Bex and Jeremy. It’s going to be a little while longer before I can ship your bowl to you. *Sigh.*

This sort of sums up my week, actually. I’m not sure which is worse: going into the holiday season with a cold, or thinking right up till the afternoon of Christmas Eve that I was going to have a healthy, snot-free Christmas for once and then getting knocked FLAT by a cold. I was over the worst of it by the end of Christmas Day, but I’m still coughing and sleeping more than normal and feeling worn-down. Annalie was sick all this week, too. It was pretty much a bummer. Bah humbug.

The good news is, it’s almost the weekend. And Troy has leave all next week. So at least I’ll be able to catch up on my 7 Days posts, and go paint another bowl soon.

Okay, that’s a stretch. I’m basically ignoring the chocolate theme today, but this seemed more important. My favorite local pottery-painting studio, the one where I first painted six years ago, the one where dottery was born with this plate, is closing.

The owner doesn’t really want to close, but for various reasons (including her two young kids and the depressed economy) it’s the best thing for her to do right now. She’s still hoping that someone might buy the studio from her and re-open it, particularly because it’s the only pottery-painting studio in the area.

Today was the last day to paint. So we went and painted one last time. *sniff*

I thought it would be cool to have Elliora paint an ornament. I let her pick the paint colors and choose which ornament. Following her big sister’s example, she already has very definite, clear opinions about what she wants. (I don’t have a picture of E painting because I was too busy making sure she didn’t grab the ornament or palette and throw them onto the floor while simultaneously preventing her from smearing her painty hands all over her clothes, the table, the high chair…)

We sure will miss this place. I hope someone buys it soon and re-opens it.

For her photo today, Annalie posed in front of our Christmas tree with a chocolate-filled Advent calendar:

My mom let me eat the rest of the chocolate from Elliora’s Advent calendar to take my self-portrait. She doesn’t really eat the chocolate, anyway. She just gets a tiny bite and my mom and I eat the rest.

You know that life overload I wrote about a few days ago? All of those things are still true, but I’m feeling better about it all. I don’t know why, exactly. Maybe partly because Elliora likes to accessorize, which is adorable:

Elliora loves headbands for some reason. She’s forever picking up ones that Annalie has discarded around the house and attempting to put them on, usually just setting them on top of her head tiara-style. Today Annalie and I were both in the kitchen when Elliora came crawling in from the living room with this headband in place on her head. I asked Annalie if she’d helped her put it on, and Annalie said, “No, I was in here with you!” I guess that means Elliora managed to get it on all by herself. Not bad for a 1-year-old.

Also, I had a headache for three days on and off thanks to storms that were near us. Yesterday it finally rained here, and with the rain came relief from the headaches. And pretty Christmas-light reflections.

The main reason I blog is because Brenda told me to.

:: The End ::

Just kidding. But this post almost could be that short. The main reason I finally started a blog, three years after abandoning the personal website I’d lovingly hand-coded from 1997 to 2004, was because Brenda kept telling me I should do it. She told me that I’m such a writer, and I take good photos, and I should just do it because I would be good at it and have a blast.

I already read and regularly commented on a few blogs, and had been part of the 7 Days community on Flickr for a while, so I knew that it would probably be fun, but I still hesitated, worried that non-internetty friends and relatives wouldn’t understand why I wanted to dedicate a website to talking about my life, that they would see it as a weird, navel-gazing kind of thing to do. I hemmed and hawed for months before I finally took the plunge (assisted by Heather and Jessica‘s excellent tutorials about how to ditch my blogging training wheels) with three posts about making my friends Erin and Rocco’s wedding cakes.

Once I’d started, I wondered why I’d been dragging my feet. Brenda was right; blogging was super fun, and useful! I could post photos and write about what we were up to for my and Troy’s parents, and all the friends and family we lived far away from thanks to the Navy. I could record moments and crafts and recipes I wanted to remember for future reference. I could ask questions and my readers would respond with advice, funny stories, recommendations.

But the best part of being a blogger is how many good friends I’ve made because of my blog. Comments led to emails, to hilarious late-night IM sessions, to in-person meet-ups, to exchanging Christmas cards and care packages, to stopping on road trips for a quick meal of Chinese with old friends I was meeting for the first time. Because of blogging, I have a friend like a sister who will help me unpack my house when I move and come stay with me for three weeks when I’m about to have a baby; and there is a woman in Australia whom I count as one of my best friends, on any continent. Because I blog, I have friends all over the world whom I otherwise never would have met or even known existed.

For a long time, it was seen as slightly shady and downright weird to admit that you had met a friend or significant other online. But as Brenda says (she says lots of good things, which is probably why she’s such a good blogger herself), the internet is better than homeroom. It actually makes more sense to meet friends online in communities you’re both into (blogs, Flickr, Star Trek forums, whatever) than to befriend people who just happen to be sitting next to you in your 3rd-period history class. The internet acts as a filter and leads you to the people who share common traits and values and interests with you. I’ve always had to laugh when I read news articles about the concern that people spending so much time online will lead to them not knowing how to interact with the real world. For me, the internet—including my blog—has been an amazing portal to the real world and some wonderful people.

I’m taking part in a blogging group called Reverb Broads that will be suggesting daily blogging prompts this December. I won’t do it every day, but I’ll be using them occasionally throughout the month as they tickle my fancy. If you want to join in, feel free! Go here or here to learn more.

…commenter #8:

Congratulations, Laura! I’ll email you the details soon.

Brenda’s book tour is still going on. She’s up to letter O! Keep reading those posts and collecting the secret-agent phrases for your chance at the prize at the end of the tour.

I have very healthy self-esteem which allows me to blithely forget the stupid things I do. At least, I assume that’s what happens, because I know for a fact that I do stupid stuff all the time (ask my husband, I’m sure he could tell you a story or ten), but nothing is jumping to mind from this past year.

However, I do vividly remember the moment I realized that looking stupid and being embarrassed was not only not gonna kill me, but that it in fact was even kinda fun. I was 10 years old, it was the last day of fourth grade, and my class was playing games and goofing off after we helped move the chairs and desks from our classroom to storage (I went to a small parochial school so the students were also occasionally slave labor). My friend Jenny, who was super outgoing and hilarious and had inexplicably picked me to be her best friend in our class, offered to lead everyone in the motions of some song we were singing, and without asking she grabbed my hand and dragged me to the front of the class with her.

Now, back then I was shy. I hated being the center of attention. I hated being looked at. I didn’t like being singled out for criticism or praise. I just wanted to be left alone to read my book and fade into the wallpaper. The fact that Jenny had dragged me up to the front of the class with her to wave my arms and jump around like a giant dork in front of everyone should have made me freeze and then run for the hills like a scared rabbit. But over the course of that year I had slowly changed.

Being friends with Jenny was a big part of that change. She was so confident and unafraid to be weird and silly, and she was awesome. If someone like her thought it was okay to risk being laughed at, maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. The other major component of that change was that I’d moved from a big public school where there were three classes of 30 kids in each grade to a small school where my entire grade only had 12 kids in it. So not only were there fewer people for me to embarrass myself in front of, but they were people who had not known me my whole life. They didn’t have preconceived notions of who I was and what I would or wouldn’t do. It’s always a little easier to break out of a rut when everyone around you doesn’t keep pushing you back into it.

When Jenny pulled me to the front of the class so I could sing and do the motions to a silly camp song with her, my heart was pounding and my mouth was dry and I felt like I might throw up. But I threw caution to the wind and did it. I sang the heck out of that song (strangely, although I can remember the moment perfectly in other ways, I have no memory of what the song was) and I acted out the stupid motions while everyone was looking at me and laughing good-naturedly as they sang along.

When we were done, I felt idiotic and shaky and completely exhilarated. I couldn’t believe that I’d done it. I’d looked moderately stupid in front of a bunch of my peers and I was still standing and breathing and if anyone was making fun of me I didn’t even care, because at that moment I started understanding that when you’re willing to risk looking stupid sometimes, life is a lot more fun.

I’m taking part in a blogging group called Reverb Broads that will be suggesting daily blogging prompts this December. It’s unlikely that I’ll do it every day, but I’ll be using them occasionally throughout the month as they tickle my fancy. If you want to join in, feel free! Go here or here to learn more.

I realized, after I did that last post about the newly-listed items in my Etsy shop (several of which have already been purchased, thank you very much!), that I have not blogged about pottery I’ve painted for a long time. The last post I could find that had more than a fleeting mention of dottery in it was way back in April! So let me catch you up, if you’re interested.

The little blue ‘be happy’ bowl up there is one that I painted for no particular reason or recipient. I ended up sending it to Leah as an apology for taking so long to send her my half of our flip-flop swap.

I painted this bowl for my friend Laura, with a slightly inaccurate Big Bang Theory quote on it. I don’t have a picture of it fired because Laura picked it up from the pottery shop when it was done.

The things I do for my friends. Kassie was inspired to ask me to paint this for her after reading about the “first: kindness; then: F*** AUTHORITY” mug I painted for Elaine. And because I love her, I did it. I’ll even admit it was kinda fun. But I don’t plan on painting another one. This was a limited edition mug. I don’t have a picture of this one fired either. (You can read Kassie’s hilarious account of watching me paint it here.)

She looks so innocent, doesn’t she? Not like a person who would ever ask a friend to paint a lovely dottery mug with her five favorite curse words on it.

I painted this geek dottery mug as a gift for the lovely Bex. It has two Firefly/Serenity quotes on it: “a little whimsical in the brainpan,” said by Mal in reference to the mentally-unstable River Tam; and, “Also, I can kill you with my brain,” a line said by a very calm River to a very spooked Jayne. The moral here is, never assume that just because someone’s whimsical that she is not also deadly when the situation calls for it.

I had a lot of fun painting this mug, particularly the little whimsical bits.

These annoying smudges are not fun, however. I took photos of this mug with my phone before it was fired, so I know these smudges weren’t there when I finished painting it. That means someone at the pottery studio wasn’t handling my pieces carefully. I’ve had this happen to at least three or four pieces I’ve painted at that studio. Rather disappointing because it’s only 10 minutes from my house.

Brenda had asked me to paint her a round dottery mug a while back, when her cool blue coral mug broke and she missed having a round mug. When I was in California and Brenda had the summer fiesta in our honor, she said that she needed to remember how much fun it is for her when she throws parties. So I painted her this mug as a reminder to be festive.

A little ‘be happy’ dottery vase I painted for Madge, at her request.

This cunning mug was a custom order for my Etsy shop, a dotty mug with Jayne Cobb’s hat on the front and a Firefly quote on the back. I was a bit nervous about painting the hat, but I think it turned out pretty well.

“Dear Diary, Today I was pompous and my sister was crazy…it was the best day ever.”

Shiny.

Annalie painted this Azurill plate the same day that I painted Katie’s NO WHINING sign. She pored over her Pokemon book, and picked the cutest one she thought she could paint. This was almost a disaster because she accidentally spilled a big blotch of black paint on the right ear and was very upset. I convinced her to leave the plate overnight and let it dry, and we’d come back the next day to fix it. We scraped the mistake off, and fixed the blue and pink, and now you can’t even tell the black blotch was there.

Remember those ‘internet friends FTW!’ mugs that Rainbow and I painted while I was in Omaha? Bad news.

It got broken during shipping. I was fairly bummed about this. I really liked those colors, and now Rainbow’s mug will be lonely.

I couldn’t even superglue it together and use it to hold pens, because there was a big ol’ U-shaped crack all across one side. Of all the mugs and bowls and things I’ve shipped, this is the first one I’m aware of that has broken. So it’s possible there was some flaw in the bisque that made it more prone to breaking.

At least I still have the memories. And an excuse to drag Rainbow to paint pottery with me again next time I’m in Omaha.

I actually got to paint pottery twice when we were in Omaha. The second time, I went with my mom, my girls, and Aurora. We did a handprint plate for my my mom with all three of her granddaughters’ handprints on it.

My mom wasn’t planning for Aurora to paint anything, but when she saw Annalie gathering paint and brushes, she said, “I paint? I paint too?” I helped her pick a plate and paint colors, and she painted the heck out of that plate.

Elliora didn’t paint. She hung out in the stroller, played with my mom’s keys.

She had her first lollipop, which she kept rubbing on her hair, then putting back in her mouth with an “Mmmmm!” Crazy baby.

Annalie fingerpainted this butter dish for my parents. I wrote the word ‘Butter’ on it just in case they couldn’t remember what they were supposed to use it for. (This is a photo of it unfired; my mom didn’t get to pick it up till after we left.)

Annalie also painted this plate for me, using my favorite colors. Isn’t she sweet?

Elliora did paint this plate, sort of. I helped her put handprints all over it one day when we were at our favorite pottery studio in Maryland. I think it turned out kinda cute, no?

I think it’s pretty clear that I do what I love, or this post wouldn’t have been nearly this long.

Did you know that today is Small Business Saturday? I figured that would be the perfect time to finally get around to updating my Etsy shop with all those pottery pieces I’ve been meaning to list for ages, starting with the funky square dottery dish up there.

Most of the rest of these are from the Geek Dottery collection, starting with a Princess Bride quote mug. I painted this on a day when I needed to remind myself that sometimes, life is pain, and anyone who says differently is selling something.

“Castle” quote dottery mug. Painted with one of my favorite quotes from the TV show Castle, starring Nathan Fillion and Stana Katic: “If you don’t believe in even the possibility of magic, you’ll never ever find it.”

Jayne Cobb—the sarcastic, uncouth, thuggish mercenary—is, against all reason, probably my favorite character from Firefly and Serenity. I think that’s mostly because of the fantastic job Adam Baldwin does of creating a character who’s loveable and possibly treacherous all at the same time. Some of my favorite Jayne quotes are on this Jayne Cobb Firefly/Serenity mug: “Time for some thrilling heroics,” “Shiny. Let’s be bad guys,” and “Pretty cunning, don’tcha think?”

Any Browncoat’d be proud to own this Firefly/Serenity mug painted with two of the ‘Verse’s best lines: Mal’s “I aim to misbehave,” and Jayne’s “Shiny. Let’s be bad guys.”

One of my favorite blog posts of Brenda’s is about how you should always “do what you love.” I love that, so I painted it on a mug.

Happy shopping, in my Etsy shop or any other small business of your choice!

Oh, I also wanted to mention that I recently created a Facebook page for my blog. If you’re into that kind of thing, feel free to like it! (There’s actually a Like Box over there in the sidebar for you to click.)

Have a great weekend, y’all.

This afternoon I was telling some friends in an email about the difficult morning we’d had with Annalie and how seven is going to kill me ded when I realized: she’s seven and a half.

We’ve been here before, with Annalie testing her boundaries at this time of year. The halves always seem to be a challenge. I know of no research or developmental theory to back this up, just anecdotal evidence. I’ve discussed with friends many times how it always seems like kids go through something developmental around their half-birthdays that turns them temporarily insane. Realizing this made me feel immediately better. Not only am I not imagining it, but there is an end in sight. Also, Madge and Bonnie both assured me that eight has been one of their favorite ages so far with their kids.

Thanks to all of you who commented on my last post about your own woes. It makes me feel better to know I’m not the only one who finds life overwhelming from time to time. I hope we all get a break soon!