on the selvage

bloggers unite... bring some sanity to the cpsia

2009-01-28T15:21:00.004-05:00

Okay, file this under "last ditch", "hail mary" and "what the hell"... the d-day of Feb 10 looms and still Congress is playing dumb, passing-the-buck and nothing seems to be getting accomplished. But I think it's still a good idea to keep doing what I can, so I am joining in with an Etsy group for the CPSIA blog-in. Here's their cut-and-paste summart, which is actually better than anything my fevered mind can come up with at this point:

As parents and concerned citizens I’m sure most of us at one time or another have been confronted with the question of lead poisoning. But have you asked yourself what your government is doing to protect your children from lead contained in toys? The answer? They're banning toys, taking books from schools and libraries, hurting low income families, killing entrepreneurial spirit and risking putting the economy in an even greater depression than we've seen in decades. I'd like to introduce you to their solution: the CPSIA.

Do you know about the CPSIA? No? Then I ask you to take a few minutes to find out about it.

The CPSIA stands for Consumer Product Safety Improvement Act, a new set of laws that will come into effect on 10 February, 2009 and will impact many, many people in a negative way. Make no mistake, this is very real. View it for yourself. If Forbes, the American Library Association and numerous other media are paying attention, perhaps you should too.

How will these new laws affect you? Well, here are a few examples:

To the Parents of Young Students:
Due to the new law, expect to see the cost of school supplies sky rocket. While those paper clips weren't originally intended for your student to use, they will need to be tested now that your 11-year-old needs them for his school project. This law applies to any and all school supplies (textbooks, pencils, crayons, paper, etc.) being used by children under 12.

To the Avid Reader:
Due to the new law, all children's books will be pulled from library and school shelves, as there is no exemption for them. That’s okay though, there's always television. Our children don’t need to learn the love of reading after all.
Article from the American Library Association http://www.wo.ala.org/districtdispatch/?p=1322

To the Lover of All Things Handmade:
Due to the new law, you will now be given a cotton ball and an instruction manual so you can make it yourself since that blanket you originally had your eye on for $50 will now cost you around $1,000 after it's passed testing. It won't even be the one-of-a-kind blanket you were hoping for. Items are destroyed in the testing process making one-of-a-kind items virtually impossible. So that gorgeous hand-knit hat you bought your child this past winter won’t be available next winter.

To the Environmentalist:
Due to the new law, all items in non-compliance will now be dumped into our already overflowing landfills. Imagine not just products from the small business owners, but the Big Box Stores as well. You can't sell it so you must toss it. Or be potentially sued for selling it. You can't even give them away. If you are caught, it is still a violation.

To the Second-Hand Shopper:
Due to the new law, you will now need to spend $20 for that brand new pair of jeans for your 2-year old, rather than shop at the Goodwill for second hand. Many resale shops are eliminating children's items all together to avoid future lawsuits.

To the Entrepreneur:
Due to this new law, you will be forced to adhere to strict testing of your unique products or discontinue to make and/or sell them. Small businesses will be likely to be unable to afford the cost of testing and be forced to close up shop. Due to the current economic state, you'll have to hope for the best when it comes to finding a new job in Corporate America.

To the Antique Toy Collector:
Due to the new law, you'd better start buying now because it's all going to private collection and will no longer be available to purchase. “Because the new rules apply retroactively, toys and clothes already on the shelf will have to be thrown out if they aren't certified as safe.” http://online.wsj.com/article/SB123189645948879745.html

To the American Economy:
Already struggling under an economy that hasn’t been this weak in decades, the American economy will be hit harder with the inevitable loss of jobs and revenues from suppliers, small businesses and consumers. The required testing is far too costly and restrictive for small businesses or individuals to undertake.

To the Worldwide Economy:
Due to this new law, many foreign manufacturers have already pulled out of the US market. You can imagine the impact of this on their businesses.

If you think this is exaggerating, here is a recent article from Forbes
http://www.forbes.com/2009/01/16/cpsia-safety-toys-oped-cx_wo_0116olson.html

And for those of you prepared to be stupefied and boggled, The New Law
http://www.cpsc.gov/about/cpsia/cpsia.html

Please contact your Congressman and don't listen to the buck-passing lies about how he/she is sooooo concerned and has written a very stern letter to the CPSIA... blah, blah, blah. The only change that matters is the change that CONGRESS alone can make.

According to Kathleen from Fashion Incubator (hail the queen...)...

So what can you do?

You can email but avoid putting the word “CPSIA” in the subject line so they can’t create an email filter to dispose of them easily. Also, be smart with your subject line, do not write “HELP” or whatever in all caps. Even I delete those thinking those are spam. Write a professional subject line.

In addition to emailing your legislators, send an email to all these congressional aides who like the eunuchs of Imperial China, hold the power over what your congressman or senator sees.
If you’ve posted an Etsy protest page listing the costs of your product with testing, it is requested that you email that. Do not email a link to your page, they won’t go. Paste in your photo and the text.
Email your testing price quotes.
Fill out the Economic Impact Survey
Continue calls, letters and emails to the media. Of everything you are doing, this has the greatest impact. Do not be persuaded that Congress is acting on this; they are not.

she has her mother's eyes!

2009-01-26T11:57:00.005-05:00

This morning I woke up to a text from my friend Lee Ann... "Guess who just fell asleep in her new sling..." The sling she speaks of is the one I made for her new baby girl, and the "who" she speaks of is that girl who she and her husband just met today for the first time. They have loved her since before they knew her name.
Their first two daughters came the "easy way" (haha), but Tarik was born in a 3rd world country and spent her first 11 months of life in an orphanage far away from the family who will care for her for the rest of her life. This week, Lee Ann and Reed flew to Ethiopia having no idea what to expect. They had stories from other adoptive parents, they had books and lists and their imaginations, but their hearts were baffled. I saw them just before they headed to the airport, and they looked like those parents you see in the movies being rushed to the er during labor. It's amazing how similar it is, no matter how a child comes into your life there is an intoxicating cocktail of fear, anticipation, relief and expectation that washes over you right before the moment finally arrives.
Something hit me hard that Reed said in their blog post, describing their first meeting with their daughter.
"...They put us in a room with a few couches and brought her in. It was amazing. We kind of had to slowly let her warm up to us, which was strange to do with a child who has already been a part of our family. It was hard not to grab her and overwhelm her with our love and affection. Instead, we had to do simple little things like let her fiddle with the buttons on Lee Ann’s shirt. But there was no doubt that our love for her, whether we could fully communicate it or not, was already overpowering."
Even reading it again brings tears to my eyes. It made me think of how God loves us the way we need to be loved... slowly making us aware of the incomprehensible feelings of compassion, protection, adoration that he has for us. It made me think of Aaron, and how important it is that God takes his time with him, slowly showing him that he is the God of truth and grace... not overpowering him and scaring him away. It's how God is with all of us. Babbling, throwing up, playing with the buttons on his shirt, totally unaware of the life that he has waiting for us, or even of the life of famine that he is saving us from.
This is adoption. It is the most tangible example we have for grace... pure, unselfish love, undeserved by anything we could do or say. Our abilities are insignificant compared to the abilities and resources of the one who has chosen to lavish his love on us... even if we are only aware of it in tiny bits.

sometimes random beauty is the best medicine

2009-01-15T15:39:00.000-05:00

wish I was just overreacting

2009-01-12T02:06:00.004-05:00

This whole CPSIA thing has me so worn out. The very idea of how easy it apparently is for our government to pass a bill so quickly and quietly that We, the People are only finding out about it as the damage is beginning to happen. How ready they are to eliminate China's American competition, to drive a stake in the heart of what economists call the heartbeat of the American economy (small business/ cottage industry) when we are already in a resession. Oh, I could say so much. But I am about out of words. (you can read ab out it here)
Right now I am going to go to bed and pray myself to sleep. And try not to cry anymore at the thouhgt of kids being banned from libraries. My dear Grandmother would not have been able to bear that one, and this makes me realize another way I am like her. Bittersweet.

Murphy, we're not in Brooklyn anymore (part 4)

2009-01-10T12:45:00.005-05:00

oh, Murphy, what have I become?
(desperate times...)
Ok, I've been dunking for 45 minutes and it still isn't robust. What now?

(where there's no dunking required)

dance...

2009-01-01T01:12:00.000-05:00

happy... 2009

2008-12-29T13:32:00.002-05:00

"When a beloved person disappears, everything becomes impregnated with that person's presence. Every single object but also every space is a reminder of his or her absence, as if absence were stronger than presence."
-Doris Salcedo

bittersweet

2008-12-16T02:35:00.006-05:00

About a year ago I babysat my pastor's little boy so he and his wife could go to "a show". In the hip(ster) neighborhood of Greenpoint, Brooklyn, "a show" does not mean a movie (common... $12 per person plus subway fare?! whatever) or anything anywhere near Broadway.
Being new parents, they called to check in (from a noisy concert-sounding event) about an hour or so later. Monique wanted to make sure everything was okay because they were going "on" and wouldn't be able to answer the cell phone until their set was over. (as if they wouldn't have answered mid-set... or even turned it off, I'm sure)
huh. "their set?", so they were in the band? I didn't think much of it, because in Brooklyn it is not particularly uncommon to be doing one thing or another on various stages in the area. And I knew that they were good friends with Sufjan Stevens (he's the Vito from Vito's Ordination Song), so I just figured that maybe Sufjan needed some back-up or something.
I tend to prefer the babysitting to going out and being among people more hip (and young) than myself, so I never inquired about where I might catch their next "set".

Then I moved from here

to here

And miss everything about what I left behind so much it's hard to focus on anything else.
Oh, and I was just lamenting about the things I always meant to do but didn't do in the 6+ years I lived in NY... like ice skating and taking pictures of the most beautiful church I had ever seen in my life, where God showed up and sat by me in the old wooden pews and soothed my sorrow with that lovely "old church" smell, and held me tight in the arms of his people, and spoke to me through a man that signs even casual emails with "your servant" (and he means it). Yeah, I've really been wishing I could see those stained glass windows again.
So, anyway, I stumbled across this album on itunes today, and later the following video on youtube. And tonight I am just so homesick, I can't stop the tears. But also thankful for the feeling, because I can't say I've ever been connected enough to miss a place like I miss my home there. Thanks, Vito and Monique (and the lovely Church in your care)... for being my servants.
xo.

waiting is hard

2008-12-12T18:02:00.003-05:00

It's a Small World

2008-12-06T04:56:00.002-05:00

it's a world of laughter, a world or tears
its a world of hopes, its a world of fear
theres so much that we share
that its time we're aware
its a small world after all

its a small world after all
its a small world after all
its a small world after all
its a small, small world

there is just one moon and one golden sun
and a smile means friendship to everyone.
though the mountains divide
and the oceans are wide
it's a small small world

feast

2008-11-26T19:09:00.004-05:00

I am thankful for memories so rich, laughter so hearty, joy so full that they are able to sustain in times of famine.

2008-11-22T23:26:00.001-05:00

11/21/99

2008-11-21T14:07:00.001-05:00

if I knew then what I know now...

I'd still say "yes".

sometimes the force is just with you...

2008-11-01T00:18:00.004-04:00

and sometimes it isn't...

when all else fails, dance...

2008-10-30T12:44:00.001-04:00

2008-10-22T14:32:00.002-04:00

When it was over and they could talk about it
She said there's just one thing I have got to know
What in that moment when you were running so hard and fast
Made you stop and turn for home
He said I always knew you loved me even though I'd broken your heart
I always knew there'd be a place for me to make a brand new start

Oh love wash over a multitude of things
Love wash over a multitude of things
Love wash over a multitude of things
Make us whole

When it was over and they could talk about it
They were sitting on the couch
She said what on earth made you stay here
When you finally figured out what I was all about
He said I always knew you'd do the right thing
Even though it might take some time
She said, Yeah, I felt that and that's probably what saved my life

Oh love wash over a multitude of things
Love wash over a multitude of things
Love wash over a multitude of things
Make us whole

There is a love that never fails
There is a healing that always prevails
There is a hope that whispers a vow
A promise to stay while we're working it out
So come with your love and wash over us

thanks, Sara Groves

Murphy, we're not in Brooklyn anymore (part 3)

2008-10-16T13:14:00.008-04:00

pressing questions that come up in daily life in Brooklyn:
did I remember to bring baggies to pick up Murphy's doo doo? (thus avoiding the threatened $1,000 fine)

Is it sad to drink alone, even if it's happy hour? (What time was happy hour again?)

what's the difference between "waterproof" and "water-resistant" boots?

is it Halloween or just any Tuesday night in Manhattan?

pressing questions that come up in daily life in Kansas:
ohmygoodness... what's crawling on my neck? ohmygoodness... what do I do with it?
is it drinking my coffee?!what is it?!
how long ago was I outside?
please, please let it be from outside and not inside.
has it been living in my hair?
is it a girl monsterbug?
did it lay a colony in my hair?
how long will I have to stand under scalding water to eliminate said colony?
what did the insert in my water bill say about the water being "not exactly drinkable"?
doesn't skin drink water?
is that crawly feeling all over just the "heebie-jeebies" or is the colony hatching?!
oh Lord... I miss the peace and safety of Brooklyn.

so, so aware

2008-10-09T23:48:00.006-04:00

I found out yesterday that this is National Mental Illness Awareness Week. I love anything that brings attention to the very tangible reality of mental illness, as our society leaves behind the destructive stigmas and prejudices of mental illness and those who are subjected to it.

I am often baffled at how it is more acceptable to take a pill or seek professional treatment for a headache, but crippling shame and fear keep people from seeking relief from conditions that cause symptoms just as real and even as deadly as cancer. How so often the only way to get the treatment you need is to let your life spiral so out of control that it becomes "suicide prevention" or "chemical dependency recovery". What if diabetes was ignored until limbs started falling off?

Mental illness has woven itself throughout my life, effecting me personally and ravaging some of the people who are closest to me. I truly believe that it has become a plague on our generation, and that its methods of "divide and conquer" have the fingerprints of the dark enemy that is out to destroy us.

I've been reading a fabulous book called Touched With Fire, which points out the connection between mental illness and the arts, and discusses fascinating moral and ethical questions connected to treating these people who have added color and dimension to our world through the expression of their suffering. It is an interesting question, whether an artist would be so driven to produce art, would he reach so deeply into his soul if he did not NEED to? Would the world be as interesting if those minds were whole?

I have a lot to say about this, being an artist and being married to an artist, both of us using our talents to create a visual expression of the turmoil we experience as a means of survival. It reminds me of the whole story of our broken, fallen world, versus a world restored to the design of our great Creator. What causes us to create is our need to be who we truly are... a creation reflective of God. I feel closest to him, most like him when I am immersed in his creation and when I am creating, because I am wired to experience a connection to him in that way. In the same way, some people feel closest to God when they are immersed in intellect or service. We are fallen and separated from full communion with our God, so anything that reminds us of what we should be, what we will be, makes us feel more whole.

Through my husband's artwork I have seen depression articulated in a way that is very unique. It shows the stillness, the lure and the beauty that calls out to you and draws you into the abyss. Yes, there is an ugly side, but that is only revealed once you are trapped in its grips. It's the slow, methodical whisper of the darkness that promises comfort.

His work reveals the trap and the torture. My belief is that it will also show the escape, once he finds it. It is my job as his wife to hold on to the knowledge I have of how the story ends, and to trust in the Creator who our souls ache to emulate while this testimony is formed. And rather than standing still, or even laying down and giving up, it is also my job as an artist to narrate the journey to the best of my ability. Because my soul aches to heal like the great Healer, and to tell a story like the great Author. What true comfort that we are allowed to do so much more than merely survive the trials of this world...

the love of a mother

2008-10-06T14:49:00.003-04:00

There are times in life that a message is given to you, that something that may have been written thousands of years ago (or a few days ago on a blog) feels as if it was the opening line of a love letter written to you by someone who knows you deeply.
Just before the first big move of my life (the first of many, as it turned out), a stranger came up to me on my last Sunday at that church and said, sheepishly, that she believed that she had been told that a verse she read when she woke up that morning needed to be told to someone she would meet that day. And when she saw me, she heard that intangible whisper... "it's for her". Poor girl, she obviously had never experienced such a thing before as having to choose between looking crazy and going crazy holding something in...

SO, this was for me that day, and it rings true in my life constantly:

"I tell you the truth," Jesus replied, "no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age (homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields—and with them, persecutions) and in the age to come, eternal life..." Mark 10:29-30

This is most present when it comes to being maternally nurtured... as I have given up the "right" to hold on to the bitterness for the lack of mothering I had from the one who holds the title, I have been flooded by care, protection, love and wisdom by the women in my life who mother my heart on a deeply spiritual level.

Many of them have no idea that their words do that for me, like this wish for her children that put to words the lesson I have been on a path to learning recently:

"I hope they learn that when times are good, your circumstances don't have to enslave you or define you. And that when times are bad, your circumstances don't have to enslave you or define you. "

The world is filled with love and hope and all of the nurturing we need to survive, thrive and grow. It's an eternal love that pours over us and truly fills that thirst, but the pitchers are so much a part of the beauty.

love

2008-10-02T02:07:00.009-04:00

Love is believing in what you know a person's character to be even when the evidence stacked against it seems to prove something altogether different. That belief doesn't always come naturally... it is usually a choice, a mastering of the will.

It is how I am able to walk through the valley of the shadow of death, knowing that my God is for me, that he is kind and good and faithful.

It is how he is able to not give up on us or the world he made for us to live in, even when we reject him and mess up his beautiful creation.

It's how I am able to look through actions and heartbreak and see family in lost and empty eyes.

And a mother's love... it is the most powerful a mortal can possess. It is able to believe that this note from her daughter's kindergarten teacher is a description of her girl:

"I just need to tell you what a sweet helper Gracie has been this week. Earlier in the week I was kneeling on the floor and couldn't push myself upright because of my broken wrist. She saw me struggling and came immediately over and offered to help me up. Then, today, a friend was upset and refused to come into the classroom. Gracie asked if she could go out to comfort her.

What a great job you've done fostering empathy in Gracie! Thanks!"

Even when that same day Gracie used her wet underwear as a weapon to hurl at mom's face as she works out her issues in the safest relationship in her life.

bake sale!

2008-09-22T14:20:00.002-04:00

Q: what's better than a good, old fashioned bake sale?
A: a good, old fashioned bake sale for a great cause, with a modern twist!!!
head on over and take a look at all of the cookies that are for sale, including 2 batches from my own oven...

Dar's Peanut Butter cookies

and... (my tribute to NYC) Black & White Cookies
(I can't promise mine will look this perfect, but I will promise they will be delicious!)
p.s. thanks, http://www.epicurious.com/
for letting me borrow this picture since I didn't get my actual ones baked in time to photograph myself

be careful what you say...

2008-09-21T01:28:00.002-04:00

Huntington Harbor c1982

2008-09-18T04:15:00.003-04:00

I miss you, Uncle Rudy... hope you and Topaz are safe.
(last docked near Galveston, TX)

Murphy, we're not in Brooklyn anymore (part 2)

2008-09-13T23:40:00.003-04:00

the East River from my neighborhood in Brooklyn

the river forming East of my porch, Kansas (thanks, Ike)

seasons

2008-09-12T15:05:00.004-04:00

Growing up in California you miss out on a few things. Snow days, dogwood trees, summer rainstorms, lightning bugs. And the changing of seasons. Sure, December tends to be a few degrees colder than June, and it generally rains in the "winter" months, but you never get that pull of the season really changing like you do in other climates.

I need seasons. Mentally, emotionally, even spiritually. I need the tangible example to throw in the face of the "you're always going to feel this way" melancholy moods when they hang on me like wet jeans. I think that before I moved away from the West Coast I was stuck in a sort of limbo, like in the Mid-West and East when it's not quite cold enough for your favorite sweater yet but all of the color is gone from the trees. Sure, the occasional sunny day would hit, but for the most part the weather was of no help when it came to wrestling with depression.

The first winter I lived in Detroit was the worst they had had in 15 years. We got our first blizzard on October 8 (16 inches that stuck around), the last one in April, and nothing but cold and dreary in between. We were living in a basement, so the lack of light did a number on me. I cried a lot for no particular reason. But I will never forget the first sprig of color I saw on a rare clear patch of ground around early May. It was green with a tiny crown of purple petals. It almost hurt my eyes it was so magical and bright against the sludgy snow. I sobbed like I had found a long lost sibling. That was a great moment, even worth what it took to make it happen. How else could I be so effected by a blade of grass? ("...not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these")

In Detroit I discovered the joys of geraniums. Very hearty (so I almost cannot kill them) and cheerful through many temperature changes. Today they just looked so beautiful to me, perched in their pots as autumn was whispering her arrival. The change of light, the slight drop in temperature. Remembering that soon the trees will be glowing with reds and oranges and yellows that don't exist anywhere else in the world. A little nudge out of my "mood". Deep breath. Forced smile that sticks a little longer than the last one. I think I need to bake a pie.