Greeting Cards
Old Paper, New Baby
A friend asked me for a baby card, and instead of buying anything new I went digging through the drawer of supplies I've been hoarding for years — a piece of dusty (but cute!) baby ribbon, and an old image of a baby in a bath tub that I've been saving forever. I put them against a fresh sheet of yellow gingham paper, added a few pastel pearls and cut the greeting with the word and letter dies I only bought recently. Old next to new, none of it looked dated at all. It looked sweet.
I keep telling myself I'll use these supplies "one day," and then they sit there fading in a drawer. Turns out the trick is to JUST USE THEM. This card came out fresh and cheerful, it cost me nothing but an afternoon, and the drawer marked "Baby Stuff" is a little bit lighter.
Macramé
The Knots That Almost Beat Me
Every macramé project starts the same way — a hopeful pile of cord and a plan that looks so simple on paper. Then come the tangled cords, the uneven tension, the knot I have to undo three times before it sits right. Some days I want to walk away from the whole thing. But there's a moment, somewhere around the fiftieth knot, when the pattern finally clicks into place and the piece starts to look like something. That's the moment that keeps me coming back to the cord table, wonky knots and all.
Greeting Cards
Ink Stains and Good Mail
Card making is messier than people think — smudged ink, glue that won't dry fast enough, a stack of "almost right" cards before I get to the one I actually send. It would be easier to buy a card off a shelf. But I love picking the paper, choosing the flower, knowing exactly who it's for before I even start cutting. Handmade mail means someone opens their mailbox and knows a person sat down and made something just for them. That's worth the ink-stained fingers.
Family & Crafting
The Website My Son Built Me
I didn't think a hobby that started with cord and paper needed anything digital. Then my son John Hector offered to build me a website, and now, somehow, macramé and ink-stained fingers have a home online. He's patient with my questions about the internet, and I'm patient with his questions about why I still can't tell a stamp from a sticker. It's a strange kind of collaboration, but I love that this little shop — and whatever it grows into — has both of us in it.