A Fall Toggle Switch- Do You Have One?

Do you have one? A toggle-switch that indicates the arrival of Fall? An internal radio button pushed gently by the sigh of a falling leaf?

For me the first sign is a shift in my coffee order. Goodbye to the sweetned iced-coffee and good morning to the warm cafe au lait. Or the morning breakfast- out with the cold cereal and in with the (gluten-free) oatmeal. This colorful season, like Spring, is for me one of the most significant hallmarks of the passing of time and always seems to bring with it the opportunity to recreate one's self, one's look, one's menu! Cover that grill and bring on the soup.

At the workshop we have a similar set of changes. Sewing projects for our classes move from breezy drawstring skirts to cozy lounge pants. Crochet and knitting classes, workshops and camps make their reappearance. The very fiber (content) of the space changes as we intuitively step in time with the swirling changes taking place outside of our workshop windows. And now with our second floor that peers into the treetops, it is almost as if the the artwork of the space, via the windows to the out-of-doors, has been changed.

We all have our rituals. After you've located the sweaters and boots in your home, here are a few quick projects to do with your kids that feel like Fall:

-Make a 'Words Take Flight" mobile by tying birds and other flying things (like tumbling leaves) cut from the pages of an old book to hang from a substantial twig. This can also be installed directly to a wall rather than hung as a mobile.

-Make a menagerie of favorite animals using only fallen and found natural materials (leaves, twigs, bark) and a little school-glue (allow them to dry flat.) Make the scavenging walk as much a part of the fun as the crafting.

-Make a sculpture with a few small twigs twisted into a small piece of recycled styrofoam to represent small trees. Paint the styrofoam and even the twigs an autumnal color or a contrasting color that would never be found in nature. Or coat the styrofoam with a thin coat of school-glue and press pieces of crushed/dried leaves into the glue to create a seasonal coating. Adorn the twigs with small animals made from pom-poms (like a cardinal) or animals and leaves cut from an old paper grocery bag or thin cardboard. Use colored markers to add detail.

For me: closet-changing today, apple-picking next week, and pie is in our future. What are your plans?

Bobbleheads of Negativity

Have you ever made another driver so dissatisfied with your skill, or kindness, that they shake their head in disgust? Wait- first comes the "what the?" hand, then comes the head bobble. I've admittedly been dumb-founded by a fellow driver before. In fact, it happened just last week on one of those narrow streets that allows parking on both sides and is marked by cars-of-the-wise that have their side-view mirrors tucked back like a little bird protecting its wing feathers. There is an etiquette to navigating such a street, a kindness that one shows the driver coming in the other direction. Kind of a first-come, first-served manner in which the second vehicle pulls a tad to the side to allow the first vehicle to make the first pass. This particular woman rolled through her stop signs and barreled down the street, forcing me into, ugh, someone's side-view mirror.

So how did I respond? Ooops. There are those drivers however that use a hand gesture and then follow it up with a head-bobble that doesn't stop. Sometimes the person will still be behind me so I can see the entropic wobble. I wonder though, for those drivers that I can't see, how long does this head thing go on? Does it perpetuate another incident, rippling through all of city traffic? It's like reviews of businesses. All of the wonderful things that people write, the kind of things that bring a tear to the eye and a catch to the breath, the kinds of things that remind you why you do what you do, seem to be erased, at least momentarily, when someone takes the time to write something mean. Maybe they think they are being helpful to an unsuspecting customer (which I suppose doesn't give that customer much credit, assuming that they need to be warned of some non-obvious peril.) Maybe they are just seeking revenge for a wrong-doing that was likely never intended. But once that ripple of negativity is started....how does it end? It takes only one person, be it in cyberspace or in a group of real people.

What would happen if each of us turned that negative thought into a constructive one? One motivated by kindness. Could it create a ripple of heads bobbing up and down, saying "yes!" to good things? Well, I'll start here.

Dear ___________ (any person at whom I have ever directed negative anything), I am sorry, and I promise to do better. I appreciate that at the moment of _________ (whatever it was that happened), I could not have possibly known all of the circumstances at play. If I have an opportunity to see/work/play with you again, I promise to do better. Love, Candice.

Clean Teeth or a Clean Sink?

You would think with all of the new miracle toothpastes, there would be one that could deliver clean teeth and a clean sink (and taste good, and have no HFCS, like Tom's or Burt's- thanks guys.) The thought came to me as I scrubbed away a little chunk of paste left by my son, as I was tempted to call him back to the sink to see the evidence and learn a little something. But I thought twice- pick your battles. Dare I layer on one more responsibility when getting the teeth brushed was already a big win? Not today.

It's funny how something as little as an encounter with toothpaste can skew your entire day. We have been working fast and lovingly to prepare our new space for our after-school program, and even with the best of project plans, the scope of planned work that can be squeezed into a tiny little timeframe shrinks as little surprises pop up (and if only the little surprises could have been as easy to erase as a little toothpaste.) But we pick our battles. All of the large work is done, and the first pieces of art are on the walls, but the closets.....oh. We are blessed with a ton of storage room in the new space- something we couldn't say for the first floor of the workshop- but they threaten to become little black-holes of craft and hardware. The closets, and all of the other now seemingly insignificant line-items on the project plan, will wait for another day as we throw all of our energy into creating the most incredible after-school experience we can for an amazing group of kids. Nothing is more important.

Falling Up The Stairs

The entire Summer has come and gone and now we prepare to Fall up the stairs. Wishcraft is expanding to include the top floor of our building as new space for our after-school program (aka Crafter-School) that has grown 500% since last year. As we paint the walls, lay new flooring and design the space, it brings back not-so-distant memories of preparing the original workshop space just a little over 1.5 years ago. For that project we allowed ourselves approximately 5 weeks from idea to launch. This time the idea has had plenty of time to percolate, and hence plenty of time to generate jitters, and even less time to execute. School for our after-school students begins in 8 days. We started painting 5 days ago. It's a family-affair, and what a cooperative and supportive family we have. The colors are cheery, the music is festive and amazing progress has been made. We have a big room for (home)work and play, a kitchen (hurray!) and a reading room with a wall of windows looking out into the treetops. What a fabulous tree-house surprise we have for our students from last year.

A woman peeked in our windows a few days ago, and was surprised to find my happy face peeking right back. I invited her in and we spoke for a few moments as she described the painting service that she has started. It was fun to talk to another mom-preneur who was as excited about what we are doing as she was to tell us about her work. It's seems so easy to sell a service that you believe in with all of your being. It never feels forced to share details about a project that resonates so easily with the mission of your human-endeavor. And to my surprise, it just might not be that hard to fall up the stairs*.

*Yes, a few of you have actually seen me do this before in my rush to get somewhere. I promise, I've become more thoughtful and present and have slowed down quite a bit.

Love In A Paper Towel

Finally. A resolution of many new year's past has been realized- the waste free lunch. Waste here is of course relative, as only the kids really know which foods get tossed or, the grail of goodies, traded. But the waste that I can control is now under control. It's not that much more difficult to send a packed lunch free of plastic baggies and aluminum foil. It is quite a bit more difficult to make sure that the reusable food storage makes its way back home to be cleaned and reused the following day. (Hint- invest in double the storage...just in case. Actually, I can just about guarantee the backup set will be employed by the third day of the new program.)

There is one disposable, yet still evergreen in its impact, item that I am unable to bury for good- the love note. Though it has improved in its efficiency, there are no plans for its ultimate demise. Once sent on a separate post-it, it has evolved into a two-fer on a paper towel: "wipe your face, sweetie and oh, how I love you". I've tried multiple writing utensils and had finally landed on the ultra fine-tip Sharpie for the job, but recently invented a three-fer approach that mitigates the risk of my youngest smearing his face with a juicy-wet ink, and saves me the effort of holding a wiggly-bumpy paper still in place under the pull of the pen's tip, all the while just still waiting patiently for the caffeine to do its own job. To accomplish this feat, I pull off two paper towels and lay them together. Then, create a crease one-third of the way from any of the edges. On this crease I cut a tear-drop, thereby rendering a heart shape in each paper towel, ready to safely convey my motherly love. The bonus (hence the third objective met): two little paper hearts that I deliver to the front-gate of my husband's coffee cup each morning. Silent and sweet, the last moment of its kind before a day full of ____________. Good morning.

Lego My Lego

We all have our obsessions, the thing that makes us go bonkers with desire. For my little guy it's Legos. He can spend an awful lot of screen-time time searching for collectable Lego sets, building Wish Lists with five-digit price-tags. He really isn't picky though- an equal-opportunity collector as excited by Atlantis or Space Police as he is his beloved Star Wars. And the mini-figures...he knows which square-people come with which brick set and will advise me excitedly when one is popular enough to be featured in various sets, facilitating multiple options for scoring a "min-fig" (as they are known by "brick masters".) Because the little building blocks seem to power his imagination with absolute jet-fuel, it's an obsession that is well supported by all of us.

Until recently, the only way to make him really happy was a new box of blocks. (Or a new box of rigid-edged foot-finders.) But we don't have a Lego Tree and it's a long wait for the holiday and birthday double-whammy that is December through February at our house. About a year ago I made light-sabers in the required colors (anyone that follows Star Wars knows the very significant difference between a green or red or purple saber.) I used old poster tubes, metallic paper and packing tape. He loved them and battled them to their death. He doesn't really seem to build with the blocks as much as he embodies them with personality and agenda, so could this approach not work with his drive to collect Lego sets? We tried it out by making a Star Wars carrier ship (the Republic Cruiser, to be exact) using empty toilet paper rolls, cut pieces of clear packaging and some plastic strapping. He loved it! It lives right next to the official Lego X-Wing that cost $60. But would this approach work with the.....the mini-fig?

Last week, in a hurry to satisfy his hunger, I printed out a few images of the mini-figures that he ached to acquire. I asked him to paste them to a piece of a used cardboard box, and then we helped him cut out around the more detailed perimeter of the image. They went into immediate service with not one size comparison nor mention of plastic inadequacy. Now he can search the internet for a new character for his collection, and minutes and zero dollars later, we have a full-size figure ready to rumble. As a fan of the Antoinette Portis books, I should have known it would work. One quick and almost thoughtless solution on my part and our guy has proven that his imagination is much larger than my wallet could ever be, feeding his obsession one free piece of trash* at a time.

*Another footnote about trash? My friend recently posted on Facebook that now she is a parent, unexpected visitors can plan on finding toys and food crumbs gone astray. Any visitor to my house, planned or otherwise, should brace themselves for the mound of craft supplies aka recycling perpetually growing in the corner of our kitchen. Of course the reality is that it isn't really free in any way, but this upcycling-waiting-to-happen strecthes our grocery dollar that much further. Not too trashy.

Beauty is in the Eye of the Holder

We are lucky to have a phone that rings often. Blessed with the Nickelodeon Parents' Pick Award as Best Kids Party Place in Chicago, many of these calls are about birthday parties. Our artsy, craftsy, super-duper-kooky parties. The kind of parties that kids don't want to leave. Or when they do, they are still walking on sunshine. Seriously. We've been called "angels in aprons." A relative remarked that perhaps we've been drinking highlighter fluid for breakfast...and it was a compliment. Our workshop is a like a little Willy-Wonkavator of creative fun.

I suppose it's a fair question: "So, what do the kids do at a craft party?" Maybe another way to ask the question would be, "What craft activities do kids do at your parties?" And the answer is simultaneously easy and complex. You ask us this question, and we will ask you three or more questions in return before supplying an answer. Why? Maybe once it was because the phone call was too early on a Monday morning, but it's usually because there is no one answer. There may be a finite number of art supplies and craft materials that immediately come to mind, but the combinations are infinite and when you throw trash* into the mix.....you never know what's going to come out on the other end. As easy as it would be to have a standard set of projects, a menu to choose from, we really prefer to know the guest-of-honor a bit before suggesting an activity to help celebrate a big day. And even when a project is perfectly planned and facilitated, you still never know what's going to come out on the other end. That's the beauty of it.

We wouldn't have it any other way. The visible self-esteem of a young artist that believes that they really are an artist. The beauty in the eye of the holder, as they proudly present their creation to a parent or caregiver. If it could be bottled... well that would be highlighter fluid. It's why we do what we do every day. It's why things so often erupt into spontaneous dance-parties of joy. It's the Everlasting Gobstopper of the work week that never ends. As tired as I might be this Sunday eve, I can't wait to get to work in the morning and cook up new ways to make fun.

*We don't make much of it. Keep an eye open for how every piece of packaging can be repurposed and the materials almost craft themselves.

How May I Help You?

Who likes networking?  Television networks I get, and the Cisco kids have taught me something for certain, but I mean the act of "cultivating productive relationships for employment or business"?  It is indeed an important part of what makes the world work, and didn't HSM remind us, we're all in this together?  It's not what you know, they say.  But isn't it?  How does one make human connection in this big, fast world?   To make it work, you really ought to know what you're doing.


I volunteer for a most fabulous national organization- the Step Up Women's Network (SUWN).   The always inspirational and eloquent Managing Director of our Chicago chapter often reminds us when we gather for meetings and events to "network powerfully".  If I was talking to my IT brethren of yore and asked them to network powerfully, they would know just what to do.  But some people are scared to move on this encouraging suggestion of interpersonal adventure. For some people, initiating a relationship that just didn't exist moments before feels a little....icky.  Like being approached on an average car lot (or the street corner, or in front of the grocery store, or...) by someone that wants something from you when you're just "looking".   Or like cold-calling.   But it doesn't have to be that way.  


Sure, LinkedIn and Facebook and _________ make it easier to get the party started.   And thanks to the "powerful networkers" and some amazing women that I have met with SUWN, I have developed a new perspective on the networking event.   It might always feel awkward to approach a group of talking and laughing beauties and expect that you are welcome to insert yourself.  But you can start by talking to one person, and then give as much of yourself as you possibly can in that moment.  What can you do for them?  Maybe they feel funny, too.  Maybe the depth of the relationship will not emerge for days or months or years to come.  And the moment when you need something might come, and it might still leave you feeling like a bother or a burden. But good people doing good things will find each other, and support one another, and help other good people get their good things done.   


A dear friend and previous colleague of mine recently made contact on my behalf with someone that she thought might have contacts local to me that I ought to know.   This special someone second-removed jumped right in, reached out to a few people closer to me geographically, and sent me a message to let me know that she had done so.  In the message she referred to one of the contacts like this:  "he's one of us."   Ah, good people doing good things.   He probably has a LinkedIn page and a Facebook account, but I'll be choosing to network socially, adding him to my MAN and my WAN in person.  


PS- SUWN has created another excellent way to give and to get.  Check out  Sugar and Spice and give something nice.


PPS- Another friend and previous colleague once just decided to start sending out an occasional email to his friends and contacts titled "Friends Doing Good Things" and it's now in self-service blogform.  Beautiful. 

Does a Smaller Footprint Mean Fewer, or Just Smaller, Shoes?

After living in the same lovely house in California for 9 years, my husband and I packed up everything we owned, our two adventurous children and incredibly loyal and flexible dog, and moved to Chicago (oh, and my Mom was packed in there, too, just not as a permanent part of the move.)  And "owned" is past-tense because the amount of things that we owned at the time was diminishing rapidly by virtue of a sizable roll-away garbage dumpster, along with a healthy number of trolls that would reliably pick clean our alley each day.  Friends, family and local charities all benefited from the purging of belongings in order to lighten the load (a phrase which has more meaning as one funds a cross-country move.) The house to which we were moving wasn't so much smaller in living space or even storage capacity, but it lacked the advantage of a long-lived-in home in that we hadn't yet figured out all of the insane ways to store away lots of stuff that we didn't really need to keep... that subconscious system that starts with the "junk drawer" and then becomes so incredibly efficient at enabling the collection of uselessness that its function becomes autonomous and invisible.

Our story of home turned out a little different than we had planned, and we moved from the new Chicago home just shortly after one year of landing here.  "California grows nuts" we were told as we packed again and this time moved 2 blocks north into a smaller abode-  the trade-off being a very short walking commute to both our business and an excellent public school for which the new address qualified us for enrollment.  And we purged again.  Even the children are getting good at it, and our buying habits have shifted such that the move and the purge should have been easier.  We stashed larger pieces of furniture and appliances in storage at the business, and began another chapter of life with less stuff and, as they say in Denmark, more life.

As I lay procrastinating on a lazy Sunday, I began to think about the lava of shoes that has crept out of the closet (a large walk-in) as well as out of smaller armoires and under-bed storage around the master bedroom.  What volcano have we landed upon that one woman's shoe collection, most of which go unworn in a new climate and new profession, can take over square footage?  I half-nap and think, do I really have to get rid of these things, these friends of the foot, these size-never-changes accessories that are always ready to bring a smile to the worst outfit?  Isn't this problem a function of needing to buy more of a storage system?  And then I remembered hearing about a guy named Dave and his quest to live with just 100 personal things.  And the aforementioned people of Denmark.  And how often "clean the closet" or "rotate the wardrobe" show up on my weekend to-do list.

Refreshed with the idea of living with less, I arose and, after skating past the lava with barely a scalded little toe, immediately found Dave's list.  But I really like my shoes.  I love my shoes.  I can probably get rid of quite a few pairs and still feel grand abundance.  But for a girl like me, with really good intentions, could the plural of the thing just please please please count as one?  I could make it fair for the family by granting the same stretch to my son (legos), my daughter (earrings) and my husband (books.......well really we all hoard books but we'll let the Master of English hold the bag.)  Thank you, dear muse of minimalist virtue, we appreciate your support.

Wipe Your Nose on Me Anytime

I've always wanted to write books for children. I once wrote a story for my daughter's preschool class with about 12 hours notice of its due date, and the collaboration of mother and daughter was a touching story of a mother's frustrations with a roller-coaster workday, ending with the yummy tummy-butterflies that accompanied preschool pick-up time each day, complete with crayoned illustrations. Since then my eyes seem to be wide open to topics that translate readily...if they were only accompanied by a free-pass for the time it would take to better explore them. Laugh if you will, but one of ideas on the list is about a Mom that gets used for a multitude of services- jungle-gym, dinner napkin, chauffeur, maid, and snotty-nose tissue. While sometimes a parent's affection might be dismissed, these other services are always in demand. And for a working parent juggling so many demands, these lovingly provided favors can take on the nasty smell of burden when things get to be too much.

This morning my children allowed me to sleep in late. Oh, and I mean in. For me at least, 9:20 am is like lunch time. I got up groggily and thanked them for their returned favor. They obliged because I had promised a lazy day of pajamas, books and Wii. But after one cup of coffee, the spontaneity bug bit me and within no more than a half-hour, we were speeding along to the movie theater for a popcorn breakfast and unplanned theatrical journey. My wild things and I saw Where the Wilds Things Are, and as they munched one portion after another of salty and "buttery" goodness, I held back one salty drop after another. Maybe its PMS, but the story was incredibly touching as I saw so much of my own son in this quirky character struggling to be himself in a big, disinterested world. There were ups and downs in the film, and it would be easy enough to watch it superficially for a yuck at the monsters' body-slamming flops. But as I sat there with a snuggly, warm boy next to me, I was reminded of how significant everything we do and say as parents, or just as the big people, is in the lives of the smaller ones. I was already a fan of the screenwriters, and of the not-for-profit contributions of the one (of which my own children are the lucky benefactors), but I think I could go as far as to recommend the film as necessary viewing for any busy parent.

So today's written reminiscence is small, as I rush to get back to making the hem of my sweater available for salty, dirty, sticky, gooey love.