BeBox Blog

Rearranging the Stars

2012-01-04T12:57:00.000-08:00

Last Saturday night I was in a bar in Austin, Texas. Austin is a young town, a college town, and has a famous street called 6^th street filled with bars and clubs and all kinds of live music venues.

I was there (at least in Austin) for an adult reason – a conference where my husband is teaching and that I am covering for the website RescueDigest.com (check it out, I hear the writing is sublime. I compare paramedics and gang members and it all makes sense). Now, the bar? We were just looking for something to do.

Saturday night with cheap beer in a can and a loud band that was passably good was fun enough for us, but it was really fun for the scantily clad, primped twenty something girls and the guys who were buying them beer. We leaned on a post and watched and smiled. Girls danced together, swaying sexily and being silly in their alcohol fueled inhibition. Guys watched them with happy lust. They were all drinking and partying and being young and free and making memories. And it made me sad.

I was happy for them. It was all harmless twenty something fun. But it could have been me twenty years ago. It was me twenty years ago. Drinking too much with my favorite party partner and college best friend. Dancing together on the dance floor we’d be aware of but not care about the guys who watched us as we unknowingly mimed a lesbian fantasy for them, innocently swaying and laughing and looking up to the ceiling or the sky and spinning and feeling happily dizzy and so free! This is what it’s like to be grown up! The world is ours and no one out of our age range knows anything about anything good! Everything funny is so funny and everything good is so good!

This Texas club was a replay of every moment I’d had in college and for several years after. I believed in so much, felt so wide open in my heart and in my mind. And as I’ve gotten older, it’s all closed down a bit. Or a lot.

I have a mortgage, or two. My parents split up and I was left wondering if anything lasts and if my history was what I’d believed. I got married and mistreated and divorced. Over time, I went from being someone who thought that there was at least a little bit of good in anyone, if one looked hard enough, to knowing that some people just aren’t worth spending time on or with. I thought that everything worked out in the end, because for a long time it did. Now I know that, no, you can get onto a path that just keeps on going down. There used to be magic in me, and I felt special because of it. That magic is cloaked in thick skin and age. And how sad is that?

The music wasn’t bad, the weather was good, and I was there with the man I love. But I was sad. Sad not just because I’m no longer young, but because I saw that my memories are not as special as I thought they were. My youthful freedom, that I miss so very much (I was great at being in college, and haven’t been quite so good at anything since) was a replay of countless crazy nights that came before me and a foreshadowing of countless that will have come and will continue to come after.

I see, suddenly, that the cultivated heroine chic slouch of young girls is still in, and I remember what it was like to stick out my pelvis in a cool slouch and having nothing jut out but hip bones. Now, my slouch hurts my neck from computer work, and hints at old lady kyphosis. I do yoga to ease back pain and restless leg syndrome.

I broke the heart of the first boy I ever loved because I couldn’t bear to miss him anymore when we left for college. Then I got my heart broken by the next boy, young man, that I loved. The first time he broke my heart was at a fraternity party in Philadelphia. I was wearing a short black skirt and black pantyhose and a sweater that I loved. I took a cab home alone, sobbing so hard that I alarmed the cab driver who swerved as he searched for tissues the whole way. The second time was when, after a second try and second year together, he moved to Washington D.C. for a fresh start on his career. And when he called me, three months after moving, and said “I think I love you and I think I always did” and invited me to come visit him. I was hardened enough, and maybe finally smart enough, to say no. If he loved me, he could get on a train or drive his car up and tell me. He never did, and that was the end of that.

Funnily enough, and I only know this from facebook, he is married with two kids and lives in, you guessed it, Austin Texas. My heart healed way back when of course, but he got to hurt my feelings one last time. With one of those facebook games “you and I are in prison. You say four words to me. What are they?” ex-boyfriend and Austin resident wrote “your dream came true.” And suddenly, I decided that he was just kind of mean. Not funny, really. Just mean. Maybe one more thing I was wrong about then and sadly right about now? I had cried so hard when he pulled away for the last time that I thought I might never stop. And when my heart broke that night almost twenty years ago I lost some pieces, because it healed a little bit smaller than it had been.

So maybe that is why a bar in Texas hit me hard as I felt my age and wished I had a nice cabernet or at least a more expensive beer in my hand and a seat to sit on and a better, less loud band to listen to on a Saturday night. My kind husband knew it was time to go, and we left. We found a better band, a nicer spot, and enjoyed our Saturday night out playing young.

We went to our hotel room, and snuggled in and watched a movie in bed, and suddenly I was glad that I wasn’t still out partying, instigating drama or regrettably kissing boys on the dance floor. I would love to feel twenty something, but live the life I lead now. I would like to feel that my heart is the size of the night sky with all its twinkling possibility. I would love to dance with my college best friend with abandon and drink and laugh until we fell down. I would like to believe all of the things that I believed then but know everything I know now. But as my husband always points out, you can’t pick and choose your reality like a buffet. You can’t be settled and crazy free. You can’t know it all and still believe in magic.

Or maybe, hopefully, magic is just different now.

Radio Flyer

2011-03-15T11:14:00.000-07:00

I was never baptized or bat mitzvahed or anything else religiously formalized. Yes, really. But I do tend to ask for signs, and take them when I see them.

When my sister in law was pregnant there were complications, talk of possibly losing the baby. So what did I do? I prayed, and I promised. I asked God to make the baby okay, and promised that in return I would do what, at that time, was hardest for me to do: I would go back to the University of Pennsylvania and get my degree. Debilitating anxiety and understanding parents had led me to quit. But I would face the fear if it meant that my first nephew would be okay. My prayer wish was answered, my deal was sealed: Max was born healthy and beautiful, and remains so. He will be fourteen this year.

So this year, I have spent too many hours wondering if I should bother to finish my novel instead of just finishing it, sewing and crafting instead of putting pen to paper, or keys to laptop, as the case may be. Could my Emerson and Thoreau loving and quoting Grandfather see me from an afterlife? Was he willing me to finish my book or to wander the woods and just be, seeing what I could see? Was my grandmother sighing over unused talent (do I have any?) and willing me to just finish it already? And, if there is a Heaven and she's there, is she still wearing a beige wrap around skirt?

So I asked for a sign. Yes, like the Matthew Perry Salma Hayek movie, I get blue and wonder, are there really "signs everywhere"?

And now for a little backstory. Here is an excerpt from the most recently penned part of my novel:

“Chili?” She asked. They had made fried chicken, and a huge mess of her kitchen, the night before, and there was some chicken left.

“With the rest of the chicken?” He asked. He propped one of his feet on her red wagon and wheeled it back and forth absently. The paint on the side had worn off long before Samya had discovered it in a thrift store on South Street, leaving only illegible white patterns. There was a rust spot on the front, but Samya had replaced all of the wheels with thick rubber ones she had found on the internet, and named the wagon “Red Lucy”, even though the red had long since turned a dusty maroon. She had unearthed it from under a pile of nail filled cans, a pair of ancient boots, and a stack of molding magazines in the thrift store. Michael had been teasing her about getting her a wagon so that he wouldn’t have to help her haul all of her sidewalk finds home with her. As soon as she’d laid eyes on Red Lucy, she had felt that she was more rescuing the little wagon more than buying it. She had lovingly scrubbed it and replaced its wheels, unable to believe that such a treasure had cost her only twelve dollars and the price of hauling it home, one stuck and scarred wheel scraping the sidewalk all the way. The tougher rubber wheels she’d found on ebay had cost only a few dollars. She had since used the wagon to haul home everything from her groceries (especially helpful when she needed to buy cat litter) to all manner of found objects for her art projects, from a giant green glass jar she’d found on the corner to a load of near pristine cardboard and a broken six paned window someone had tossed into an alley. A doctor at work had gotten her a box of disposable gloves and she always kept a few in her bags for picking up such objects.

The image of the wagon stuck with me, marking a real turning point in the excitement for my book. The wagon said a lot about Samya's character: what was important to her, how little she cared what people thought of her, how she loved her art and her found objects as if they were friends.

You see what's coming, right? I asked for a sign and about three days later I was was in Good Will looking for dresses tro embelish with antique lace and fabric flowers for my Etsy store, and there it was: the wagon. Not twelve dollars as I had written in the book, but fifteen. I grabbed it and bought it and grinned, thanking my grandparents and the Universe or God or whomever and put the red wagon in the back of my car.

So I got my sign, and now I guess have to finish my novel. Lucy the red wagon is in the loft filled with fabric scraps and lace, and I smile and feel watched over whenever I see her. And yes, I kept my promise after my nephew Max was born healthy. I went back to school and finished. Maybe this year on his birthday I'll tell Max that story, and thank him.

Please note that the photograph of the radio Flyer on this blog was taken by Jane Linders, whose beautiful photography can be found at: http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/jane-linders.html

Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda

2011-01-24T10:18:00.000-08:00

Every few months or so, I have a fit of "I should, I will, I wish I'd..." and handsome husband talks me off the ledge by gently reminding me that no, I don't wish I'd gone to law school, no, I wouldn't be happy working 60-80 hours a week in the financial services industry, and that, gee, doesn't all the infectious laughter and cheese eating and wine equal a really wonderful life together? One where I have a flexible job that helps people and time to craft and glue and write and pet my beloved animals? Yes, as always (and he will tell you this) he is right.

So why do I torture myself? Bad economy, worry about my mom and her retirement, disappointment in people I thought I could count on? Sure, but really? Maybe it's more than that.

If I won the lottery, I would not want to move out of our home. We would travel (but we're already going to London, South Africa and Cairo this year in a whirlwind 3 week extravaganza of globe trotting where I have been promised the petting of elephants. Well, "interaction with", This could mean trampling to death by. I tend to be optimistic, for the most part). So I'd pay off the life we already have, and not trade it for a new one? And I wouldn't say "Wow! I can finally start that business I've always wanted?". No, I'd buy a vintage travel trailer and outfit it as a craft and writing studio, and the rest of my life I would not change. So it's the worry I need to eschew, really, not anything REAL. My reality rocks, it's my brain that's raining on my parade, it seems.

Born in the seventies to groovy parents who came of age in the sixties, we moved a lot and learned about art and reading and all kinds of music and everything creative was awesome and encouraged. I even went to Friends school, where everyone is equal and weird is great...yes, really. I picked the wrong college (where everyone was headed for One L or B School), but it was still the nineties, when grunge and flannel and working in a coffee shop was cool, man. So I just chilled. Surely my book will get published and if not, whatever man. Um, I'll be finishing it any day now (now that my adult work ethic is so much greater than it once was), and perhaps it will get published, and that'll be cool.

But you know what? I am so very lucky, and all is well. I have time to write my novel, hang with my family, and do my best with my glue gun! And a dream of a travel trailer... well, that's one that might even come true one day. So how cool is that?

Constructive Criticism

2010-10-04T12:51:00.000-07:00

I got an email from a potential buyer on Etsy who told me that they would likely buy a wedding box, but that the white flowers didn't really work for them. They told me that the white didn't look vintage enough. And you know what? It was so right! I quickly emailed back to let this Etsian know that I would be happy to replace the flowers and would happily send pics of color choices so they could have what they really wanted.

As much as I try to make things beautiful, and as invested as I get in each project, I have to admit that this critique was spot on. Furthermore, I pulled off the existing flowers and tea stained them (just what it sounds like... I soaked them in dark tea) and let them dry, then offered them up as one of the replacement choices. So I tried a new technique for fabric flowers thanks to this criticism as well!

So, I hope the outcome is liked and that I will sell this box to a happy home. But either way I feel a little more receptive and a lot happier with the box now! So let's hear it for criticism (ouch, not THAT much! I still have an artists heart, you know!).

Accept Yourself

2010-04-08T12:59:00.000-07:00

This is such an overused, trite thing to say, but it's so true. I had a tough day yesterday, and was home alone last night trying a new craft (bracelets from material scraps and plastic bottles). The bracelets are new to me, so they're a little sad right now, and it made ME really sad, then frustrated and overwhelmed as I looked at all of the crafts I do, want to do, intend to make, to try, to learn, to refine. And yet, I LOVE crafting! And my job is as a freelance writer - what I've wanted to do since I was a kid. So why the overwhelmed, the sad? Some of the stuff I write or craft is ho hum, to be sure, but some of it is downright as awesome as it seemed in my head. And yea me, yea all of us who try!

A very important person in my life once said to me "As great as you are in those perfect moments of creation, is truly how good YOU really ARE." Basically, if I write one amazing thing, I am an amazing writer, etc. What a kind thing to say. So why do we beat ourselves up?

Anxious on the way to the dentist this morning, and hating that I get overwhelmed by those tasks sometimes, I took a deep breath and just thought "it's okay to be just who you are." I am finally letting go of all of the things I could have been, might have been or thought I should have been, and starting to embrace who I really just, finally, completely am. I know my hair gets a little (a lot) out of control sometimes, and I lose my car keys more than I should, am so non-competetive that I don't even enjoy a good board game, that I could have chosen a much more lucrative career, am less hip than I once was, love my clothes and shoes more than I probably should. I will stop feeling guilty because I wish I had a room of my own (I know, I know Virginia Woolf would understand) despite the great house handsome husband and I rebuilt together. I will forgive myself for getting overwhelmed, for loving bits of paper and fabric and notions and just words!

So here I am, back from the dentist and feeling a moment of happy, content clarity. I took the long, prettier way home. I love to drive my silver Honda with the dog scratches on the inside of the passenger door, love the giant oak trees that bend over Route 37, loved coming home to a great blooming garden and a sweet man who loves me, for what I am, and maybe, too, for what I'm not.

Be as kind to yourself as we all are to our best friends. Be amazed at yourself, by yourself. We all deserve it. We are all as we were meant to be.

Flower pins, Mother's Day gifts, and Spring!

2010-03-12T08:45:00.000-08:00

Spring is officially, truly, on it's way, and with it brings new inspiration and new holidays for which to make gifts! As promised, the fabric flower tutorial is coming in the next few days. I am working on a fabulous mother's day gift for my own mom, and will post photos when it is complete. As for gifts for others, I will be updating the store with presents for all types of moms (from the embarrassingly groovy to the tsk tsk).

As I walk Gus in the newly thawed woods I see so many fabulous things to use in art/crafts that I have to carry a little bag to collect them all - acorn hats and naked sticks, halves of some kind of nut that look like tiny boats faring the storm of melted snow rivers. And our first crocus popped up to say hi... I was very excited to see his little purple self peeking up from between the myrtle!

I'll post more when I have uploaded mother's day gifts to Etsy and the tutorial. As always, thanks for checking in. It makes my day when someone says they've popped in to see my blog.

Fabric Flowers for Pins, Purses, Frocks and more...

2010-02-12T14:16:00.000-08:00

Inspired by the headbands, pins and purses decked out in fabric flowers that I am lusting for all over Etsy, I am now making my own... but I'm using fabric and a lighter to do it. Fire makes everything cooler. I am cutting petals from various fabrics and scorching the edges (some curls, some melts, some singes, some just stinks) and then piling one petal atop another and sewing them together with a bead or beads, or a french knot. Then, sew them onto a dress, a purse, attach to a bobby pin, glue a pin back onto it. They're infectious, and - as usual- my patient husband is suffering the consequences ("What's that smell?" he asked kindly last night as I crisped the edge of a small blue velvet circle). Also, as a firefighter, he's bound to be wondering how long it's going to be until I catch the house on fire as I sit on the couch surrounded by fabric scraps, butane lighter in hand and a maniacal craft induced gleam in my eye. But the flowers are populating my studio and many other surfaces of our home, and it's like a bit of Spring in a cold Connecticut winter.

Pictures are coming soon, and possibly a photo tutorial (this will be my first but I so appreciate when others do it that I'm going to give it a shot).

Perhaps I'll cover a whole dress and then hope for a red carpet on which to wear it. As always, thanks for reading the BeboxBlog and have a great day!

2010-02-03T10:26:00.000-08:00

This is a picture of my gorgeous brother and his family - wife Emily and their four kids. We never tell each other how much we love each other, instead relying on calling each pet names like "Pig" (mine for him) and and "Vomit Head" (his for me). But as he is about to embark on the journey of a lifetime - of six lifetimes, really - I have to say that I am proud and nervous and excited and in awe of his fearlessness and his pursuit of true happiness and of his dream.

Chris and his wife have just sold their house and everything in it save for beloved kids' toys, and bought a magnificent red sailboat with a berth for every kid and a home theater. Always home schooled by certified elementary school teacher Em, they will now learn aboard with the world as their classroom. The kids have never been happier or more excited, and my brother seems to be himself again - a true, sweet, fabulous, interesting incarnation of him that I have only glimpsed but not seen in a very, very long time. Bad things have happened for him, and he is back from it all and pursuing his lifelong dream. His heart has been sailing for as long as I can remember, and it strikes me that while I am a nester, a writer, a crafter, having wanted a home of my own for as long as I can remember, he has been wishing just as hard for this. And yet we are so much alike, and so much a product of the youthful 60's idealism of our groovy mom who said that kindness, art, and happiness are all that need matter - a simple idealism that seems to hardly exist anymore.

I have new fabric flowers in my shop, pinned on my favorite dress and on half made purses in my studio, and am making paper terrariums in old jam jars, all unfinished as I make my living as a freelance writer and wonder when I will really finish my novel and do what I was put on earth to do, fully and completely as Chris and the crew of five do just that and prepare to set sail. I love you and I am proud of you all. Pig.

Home Sweet Artsy Home

2010-01-08T05:44:00.000-08:00

It's snowing here in Sherman, Connecticut, and I have my cup of coffee and all day to work. I browsed through a home design magazine just now and realized that, although it used to be a favorite pass time, it held no appeal for me this morning. With every stylized room and overly perfected kitchen all I could think was, "I'd rather be in my home". What a nice feeling! Our house with a kitchen smaller than we would like, with less closet space than we could use, and higher ceilings than we can affordably heat, is where I would most like to be. Handsome husband and I built much of this home ourselves, stained and painted and hung doors and gardened and re-gardened and then sat back to enjoy before starting again. We have a lake view that's breathtaking in every season, a wood stove that makes splitting and stacking all those cords of wood worth it, and an unfinished loft that awaits bookshelves that will someday house the hundreds of books that patiently sit in the attic wanting a room of their own. And of course, the chilly basement shop/ studio where all of the art and magic of BeBox takes place. Now that's a Connecticut home I can get behind.

Next up on Etsy: Valentine's Day Boxes and Mother's Day boxes (thank you Gary from the Danbury FD for reminding me of that holiday last night as he helped to get a friend's keys out of her car). Now, off to try to make a living as a freelance writer to support my habit as a craftsperson! Have a wonderful day, wintry or not, no matter where you may be.

Happy 2010

2010-01-01T16:24:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year! The end of 2009 found me suddenly unemployed and losing a person whom I had come to love. And yet... we visited amazing friends for Christmas, witnessed strength and family in abundance, and I made two sales on Etsy in one day on the last day of the year - cementing the belief that the Universe is telling me to get back to my true creative spirit, the only part of me that never wavers, the part that is the heart of me.

Our kind and fabulous friends Bob and Miwa let us stay with them in Philadelphia (and thanks to Gabe for giving up his room for us for a weekend) and welcomed us as warmly as they always do. Lots of much needed laughter sprung from that weekend and a new poem for me that I am holding dear as I travel forth this year. I should have been familiar with it already, but the piece that was hung on their wall spoke to me in a much needed way. So I share it with you and hope that in 2010 we all find ourselves in the places in which we were meant to be.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

Christening & Birthday times 2!

2009-11-17T19:00:00.000-08:00

All three of my recent commission boxes are finished, and I am so grateful to have spread my wings (no pun intended) a bit on these. Both birthday boxes have a new personalized curled ribbon on top and photos inside on the padded lining, swarovski crystals on the sides, and lots of happy touches, while the Christening box for baby Brooklyn has roses (her middle name!) made of pink paper that all read "Brooklyn" across the petals... as do the tails of the angel's bow. Pink swarovski crystals lay inside a few of the roses and across the front of the box. Her initials are embroidered in pink and lined with white inside on white silk dupioni (my favorite material), and beaded white silk makes the gathered skirt. A pink glass angel keeps watch over the box as doves fly above the garden made just for her. Happy Birthday and Peaceful baby wishes lay inside.

Goodbye Halloween, Hello Thanksgiving!

2009-11-02T12:32:00.001-08:00

Halloween was a great, fun time and I enjoyed the frenzy of black and orange ribbon and spooky boxes, but now.... it's time to put away my costumes for another year (at least in public!).

Autumn is so beautiful in New England, and though the days are getting shorter and the nights a bit colder, it's a great time for me to settle into my basement studio and get crafting even more.

I recently completed similar (but not identical!) birthday boxes for a twins' 21st birthday gift, and am working on my first box to top a Christening cake. I love the process of thinking up new ideas and of trying to make each box special for it's owner. So far so good. I'm embroidering initials inside on silk, and a glass angel adorns the top. And an easy flower choice on this one: The baby's middle name is Rose! Stay tuned for photos as soon as I'm finished.

My favorite wedding cake topper was entered into the Martha Stewart Wedding Craft contest, hosted by Martha Stewart and Etsy. I'm keeping my fingers crossed, but there are countless beautiful wedding bitties on Etsy and I'd truly be happy to see any Etsian win!

Anyway, as always, email me if you have any questions or would like to speak with me about a handmade box. And don't forget to visit my store on Etsy (just click on the link at the top!).

All New!

2008-10-15T06:16:00.000-07:00

Hello! Fall is here and with it many new boxes and bits on the Etsy site. Inspired by many how to sites, I will be adding a few new "How To's" of my own. Anything specific anyone wants to see? Let me know and I'll post it!

Some of the things I'll be posting:

How to:

-line a box with padded lining
-make a personalized paper flower
-use scraps for a whole new project
- incorporate a favorite photo or paper clipping into a box

I hope you like it! Let me know and I'll post anything else you've seen on my Etsy store.

Fall is around the corner

2008-09-03T11:29:00.000-07:00

Despite the beautiful warm weather and boats still in the water here on our lake, Autumn is coming, and with it even more Christmas items to choose from on BeBox and Etsy. Please take a look and thanks for supporting handmade!

2008-08-15T12:44:00.001-07:00

It's August : Merry Christmas!

2008-08-05T04:34:00.000-07:00

With wedding season ending (and my own elopement and wedding celebration behind us), I am focusing more on boxes of all kinds. I am currently working on some boxes with animal and pet themes, and will be working toward more general themes (friendship, family, flowers of all kinds) and posting them within the next month or so.

Gas prices and everything else are affecting everyone, so I've decided to start my Christmas shopping early to avoid the killer outlay of money all at once. AND I'm going to try to finish up my shopping on Etsy - give handmade goods for the purposes of both finding something unique and supporting artists and craftspeople.

I hope you see something you like in my shop or elsewhere on Etsy. Happy browsing and Merry Christmas!!!

Custom Work

2008-02-16T06:59:00.001-08:00

I am always excited to do custom work for my customers. I have made birthday boxes with names and chosen colors, boxes lined with fabric photos of a beloved pet, revamped a family wedding cake topper from it's vintage state to serve as a something old and something new (I could make it blue as well!).

Please email me for a full list of possibilities and ideas and we'll work together to make your wedding cake topper or gift box anything you wish!