Countdown: Folk Festival

The Regina Folk Festival is only ten days away!
This gives me mixed feelings. My second, and last festival of the year. Last year I sold five festivals, and I'm sad that I've missed out, and will be missing out on those other three this year. Ness Creek is always a good time, and I didn't even get a chance to swing by and hang out, let alone set up shop. The Lumsden Duck Derby was new to us last year, and though we were chased into a cold community hall basement by the rain, we decided to try it again this year only to be foiled by the Nine Inch Nails concert in LA. The Craik Field Festival last year was a windy catastrophe, but I haven't seen or heard anything about one for this September.
My Partner in Crime and I were cleaned out and I were cleaned out of inventory after the Street Fair in May. And although we have had plenty of time to make new stock, we really haven't seemed to find it. She was busy getting married, and I was busy moving. She's been busy camping, and I've been busy working (Why did I take a second part time job on weekend mornings?)
Last year, after the Ness Creek Festival when I found myself cleaned out, I spent a solid three days sewing after I got back from the Pemberton Music Festival. I managed to produce enough stock for the rest of the summer, and again I'm faced with the same problem.
I'm in a situation also though, where I want to try something new. I love the purses I've been making. I adore the tie up hippie shirts made from lightweight colorful cotton. The PMS cards have so far been a bust, although I still have hopes. I've been making corsets. Strapless corsets which can be tied up in the front or the back, and ones with vest-style straps, some of which can be reversed, and some which just tie up in the front.
I think these are awesome, and I wear at least one a week myself, not just for promotion, but because I think they look dead sexy, and they're surprisingly comfortable, considering they're lined with steel boning. I often get comments. I often get stares. I often wonder how many of them will sell, or if they will turn out to be a complete bust. (pardon the pun) Is it worth it to devote much of my few remaining days to pump out a bunch of these bad-boys if nobody ends up buying them?
So far I've got fourteen purses, ten hippie shirts, six skirts, and four of each style of these corset shits. Ideally, I would like to double my stock, in case sales continue in much the same light as they did this past May.
The bonus is, I also have some pretty deadly models that I'm planning on taking out a few days before the festival, so that anything that doesn't sell then, I can throw onto my website for all y'all to peek at.

That Again

I find it a little strange that, even though I don't own one of their albums, I would cross the country (and in this case, two countries) to see Nine Inch Nails.
That's right, I just got myself a ticket to go see Nine Inch Nails at the Hollywood Palladium in LA with Smyrish.
Last summer when I saw them preform at Pemberton, I was so happy and excited. True, they were playing with a bunch of other deadly ass bands I love, but they were probably my favorite act. Infact, that was the best show I have ever been to. Period. Not that I go to allot of shows very much anymore, but I've been to see some pretty deadly punk acts in my day, and NIN beat all.
I'm super stoked to be tagging along on this trip to LA that Abigail Road and Smyrish planned. (Yes, I'm THAT kind of sister) Although I'm not a fan of crowds, I don't like big cities, and we don't yet have a place to stay, I'm sure we'll have a blast, and find all sorts of outrageous trouble to get into.
Idealy, we can take that little trip, and still make it home in time for the Lumsden Duck Derby on Labor Day, so we can sell some stuffs and make some money back! Haha

Recovery

I seem to have replaced the longing I feel for my recent ex-boyfriend. I may have replaced it with two hilarious habits.

Habit #1 : "Wicked fuckin' deadly"
Yes, suddenly it is the mid-nineties, and everything to me is, "wicked, wicked deadly, deadly wicked," and most ridiculously, "fuckin' deadly wicked awesome"
Habit #2: Metal Horns.
I'm sorry. There should be meetings for this. I make metal horns for everything that I find slightly awesome. Often used in conjuncture with the above mentioned habit, metal horns often involve me bending at the knees slightly and bowing my head a little to withstand the force of the all-powerful metal horns.
Hand gestures are nothing new to me. If you're in the same room as me, and I'm even a little excited about something, watch out, my hands might jump out and molest you. This is partially because I flail around when I talk, but mostly because I like to molest people.

I'm feeling okay about my new found habits though. I'm not exactly sure how they developed, although I'm sure the copious amounts of alcohol I was drinking in the two months after my breakup had a little to do with it.

Fecal Matter & Algae

After my fun-filled bike-ride on Thursday, I wanted Friday to feel just as healthy, and maybe to even bigger proportions, so not only was I going to ride around the lake a few more times, I was going to go down to the marina and rent myself a kayak. For a mere $10 an hour, I could tool around the lake and take a closer look at the island, which I've never stepped foot on. I could also cool down a little on a hot day without actually having to go into the water (which isn't allowed anyways) and step on what I presume to be a super mushy goose-poo covered bottom.
I haven't kayaked in probably seven years since I was at summer camp, so I was excited to re-try one of my favorite water activities.
It was just as fun, but left me more sore-shouldered then I remember. I only needed half an hour to zigzag my way around the island, get in the way of some speed-rowers, and be jealous of the experienced kayakers, in their streamlined-super-speed machines that flew past me.
I had fun, I got wet (I'm glad I took along a plastic bag for my wallet) and deffinatly am willing to take myself again soon. I was going to go on Sunday, but thunderstorms prevailed, and left me soaking wet when I decided to chance it and walk through the park instead of ride.
Instead I made up for the calories lost by sitting around and drinking whiskey all night Saturday.

Knuckle Toes Channels the Crocidile Hunter

Most of the time, I hate having more than one day off in a row.
Usually I spend my days off being productive. Doing laundry while watching the X-Files. Sewing. Buying groceries. Lately it's been packing up various areas of my house and cleaning others.
These are not things I ordinarily do after a day at work. Usually after a day at work, I'll have whiskey, watch a movie, or play Scrabble with Smyrish.
After a productive day at home, I have nothing to do the next day but feel like a lazy bum. I'll eat crackers in the couch, and sit in the crumbs bare-assed and uncomfortable.
I'm the schedule maker at work, so I don't often need to deal with a crumb-bum.
Somehow though, I ended up with Thursday and Friday off.
Determined not to let the hours crawl by, I figured I would take advantage of the fantastic weather, and ride my new bicycle, Ingrid, around our inner city man-made lake (slough)
This is not a lake for swimming. If you were to swim in this lake, you would probably smell alot like fecal matter and algae, as there doesn't seem to be any sort of filtration system.
Either way, I took Ingrid out to test her legs, and ended up riding for about two and a half hours.
I often forget that she is not a mountain bike. Infact, she doesn't have a very complex brake system (just pedal backwards) so you can't expect much in the way of shock absorbency and general toughness. Since she is currently sans-bell, I have no way to warn the walkers/joggers/stroller mommies that I'm fast approaching, so instead of rudely cutting them off, I chose to offroad it around them, and my knees are a little unhappy with me after four circuits in one afternoon.
However, I did get the great idea to go home and find my camera so I could write a lame blog entry about Canada Geese.
I don't know what they're called anywhere else in the world, and frankly, I'm too lazy to look it up. Don't let their appearance deceive you, these bastards are mean, and nothing to mess with. They hiss, they bite, and they will break your arm with one flap of their wings. Much like a grizzly with her cubs, these bastards will turn on you if you so much as look at their young. They're pretty curious though, and will stalk you around if you seem like you're going to pay any attention to them.
I also managed to watch one poop, though I didn't catch it on camera, and it was pretty fucking funny, considering it was the last thing I expected to see. It came out like a graceful little green arc that you might see come out of a fountain. Of shit. And believe me, there is goose-poop EVERYWHERE in the park. (Which by the way, is the largest inner-city park in the world, if I remember correctly) Somewhere in it is actually a bird sanctuary, which surprise surprise, is pretty much full of these Canada Geese. Although, it seems there's a few pelicans as well.

Packing

A couple things make me happy about moving.

One of them is being able to go through all of my shit (and there’s allot of it) and organize it. It also gives me a chance to get rid of a bunch of shit. Somehow over the years I ended up with three lava lamps. That’s right, THREE lava lamps. Even though I probably haven’t had any of them set up or turned on in five years, I felt the need to keep them all, and move around with them (probably three or four times) while they were being infinitely useless in a milk crate.
I just spend two and a half hours going through my hall closet, bedroom closet and my bookshelves. I ended up with three big shipping bags of things to get rid of, and about seven or eight boxes of stuff to move with. I find it crazy that I, a single, twenty year old woman, could possible own as much shit as I do.

Another thing I like about moving is the idea that I can put whole new rooms together. Like any slightly domesticated woman, I like making things pretty! I like deciding where to put my couch, my slightly broken folding screen, my crazy colored glass friendship orb, and my giant hand-me-down gun rack. Maybe one of the reasons I own so much shit is because I like to decorate. I don’t NEED to own a floor rug, but I do. I don’t NEED to own a massive dining room table that seats six, but I do. Infact, I sort of am moving to a bigger apartment because I didn’t want to replace said table with a sewing space.

I’ve got two and a half weeks to pack up my apartment, clean the joint, and take all the stuff away that I’m finally getting rid of. I get a couple days off to go to Smalltown for Abigail’s wedding, party it up with the booze hounds, and then it’s back here with a day and a half to spare for that whole physically moving all my heavy, heavy stuff.

Woo!

Moving

I’m moving!

I found myself a great little two bedroom apartment in the same building as Schmutzie and Abigail, so I am foreseeing some random coffee parties with some pickup Scrabble games coming my way.
Also, for the first time, I will have my very own craft room (wow, I suddenly feel like a lonely sixty year old scrap-booker) where I can make all the sewing messes I want! Where I don’t have to face an empty corner and sew in gross phoney lighting. Where I can have room to organize my fabric properly and maybe have more space to get shit done, displayed, properly photographed, and maybe even sold! A space that is not my living room sofa for me to use my new laptop, though I’ll probably be just as unmotivated.
Now I’ll need to invest in some fancy-ass curtains if I want to keep running around my house naked. Now whenever I’m bored I can sit by my new fireplace (eee!) and gaze out the window as stabbing victims stagger to the emergency ward of the local hospital. Now I’ll have a neato walkout door/window to a courtyard where people smoke, drink coffee and hang their laundry to dry.

I see myself actually starting to buy groceries and cooking for myself again. I see myself letting go of all that shitty break-up stuff I’ve finally been starting to deal with in the last two months. I see myself sewing more. I see myself doing all that cheesy ass home maker bullshit stuff and having people over for tacky wine parties.
Woo!