I'm using my blog for self publication this time. I do lots of talks and demonstrations, not to mention workshop, making Dorset buttons. One of the things that normally comes up is how fast can you make them, and I tell people that a good button maker could turn out a gross a day (that's 144 buttons!) I've always wanted to see how many I can make in a working day so I'm holding a Dorset button challenge on 20th February in the shop. I will be making as many as I can in 12 hours. I'm going to aim for 144 but that is one button every 5 minutes and even I'm not quite that fast, If you want to come and support me then please do. I won't be teaching but you can come and eat cake and drink coffee and squish the woolly goodness on offer.
We're going to be raising money for Parkinsons UK, a charity close to my heart as I have a friend with Parkinsons.
If you can't make the shop but you want to support the cause I've set up a just giving page here so you can sponsor me per button or a set amount.
Saturday, 30 January 2016
Sunday, 17 January 2016
I don't normally use my blog to winge about the bad things that happen to me. I prefer to stay positive and see the bright side, and I like to project that bright side to my few readers. After all, you've probably got problems of your own to cope with, without having to listen to mine. However, something horrible happened at the Christmas Farmers market last year which made me really think. I thought I would share these thoughts with you all in the spirit of self discovery. I hope you don't mind.
The Sunday before Christmas was a bad day for many reasons. We all have them I know, where if it can go wrong it will. Thankfully I don't get them very often but this particular Sunday more than made up for the lack. The crowning bad point was discovering that someone had stolen my needle felted rabbit from our stall at the farmers market. You might remember him if you follow our Facebook page. We made them as a group with Erica from Arts, Rush and Cane. He did a sterling job of advertising our felting classes, and the fabulous Arts, Rush and Cane felting kits that we sell, which is why I'd taken him with me. After realising he was gone, and searching fruitlessly for him, I tried to put his theft out of my mind and get on with my day.
But he kept coming back to haunt me. I told myself that I was being stupid. After all, he was a small amount of fluff, pleasingly shaped but not worth very much. I can easily make another one, a better one probably, in about four hours. Yet still I couldn't shake the horrible feeling of loss his theft had left me with. And then I worked out why.
He wasn't just a pleasingly shaped bit of fluff at all. He was a memory of several happy hours spent with friends, learning a new skill. He was a shared feeling of delight on realising that we could all shape fluff into animals almost by magic. He was a sense of pride and achievement in my ability to learn and grow, to gain knowledge and create something new. He was a feeling of accomplishment in a project well finished.
And he was just so damm cute, and I made that cuteness.
So I think it's okay to feel loss over my little bit of fluff, and although the next rabbit will come with me to help sell things, I'm not sure he'll be as good.
On the positive side I did learn that Short Round can be the most sensitive and caring child when faced with someone in distress. He search high and low for my rabbit, hugged me lots more than usual and tried his hardest to make me feel better. When we finally got home, after all the other disasters that happened, he sat in his room and drew me a rabbit to replacethe one I'd lost.
So I'm going to take pride in him instead.
If by chance the person who needed my rabbit so badly reads this, please treat him with respect. He's worth so much more than a little bit of fluff.