There was a time not that long ago when e-mail, Facebook and blogs simply didn't exist. No one had cell phones and long distance calls were expensive. So we wrote letters.
I'm only 30 years old, but I remember this time with great fondness. I was 10 years old when I first discovered my love of writing. My family had just moved up to Northern California from my childhood home in San Bernardino, CA. Shortly before the move my mother had planted the seed. She mentioned that I could stay in touch with my girlfriends through letters and helped me amass an entire collection of pretty stationary specifically for the purpose of composing letters to friends and family members.
Each day I'd run to our old fashioned rural mailbox, two long braids trailing down my back, with the great hope of receiving a letter from a faraway friend. Most days I wouldn't find anything addressed to me, but once a week or so I'd find a pretty pink or purple envelope tucked in amongst my parents' bills and junk mail.
Perhaps it was a simple girlhood thrill of receiving something addressed to me in the mail. Maybe it had something to do with my secret girlhood dream of having a pen pal who, over a lifetime of letters, would become my best and truest friend. I suppose it doesn't matter why I loved it so much. Some things just are.
Twenty years have passed and I still love receiving notes addressed to me in the mail. I've managed to save virtually every letter I've received from friends and family over the years, and they're all tucked neatly away in a box under my bed. Maybe someday I'll pull them out and reread them. The short ones from my girlhood friends. The long ones from my parents when I was away at college. The ones my grandfather and I wrote to each other the summer before he died a few years ago (he saved each of my letters and I now have them stowed safely in my box).
These days, I've joined the masses and switched primarily to e-mail, but sometimes I wonder if something has been lost. You transfer a part of yourself onto the page when you handwrite a letter. The long or short loops in your handwriting are as much a part of the story as the words you have written. The time you take selecting the right paper, writing out your thoughts and tucking everything into an envelope is a true mark of love and friendship.
I made my first agent jane sale last night! I'm so excited to ship my Undercover Mama Bag out to my wonderful customer. I hope she loves it as much as I do.
Now my little shop looks so lonely with only one item inside. I've been working on a knitting needle case to add to my shop and I'm so close to finishing it. The only hitch is that I don't have any knitting needles laying around for photo props.
Hmmm... I guess I'll have to take up knitting this week.
Or maybe I'll just call my mom and ask to borrow some of her needles.
My dear friend called me today with the news that she had welcomed her baby boy into the world last night. I don't know that anything in the world can compare with meeting your new baby for the first time. Those tiny eyes gaze into your own, and your heart suddenly swells with more love that you ever believed it could possibly contain.
I can't wait to meet him. I just know he's perfect.
Etsian bytheway recently had a great idea: let's all work together on a single CPSIA Assignment each week. We'll concentrate our efforts to gain maximum impact, and hopefully gain some traction in the fight to amend the CPSIA.
So what's the first assignment?
To come up with a month's worth of assignments. What are the top four things we should be working on in the next four weeks (one per week)? Who should we be contacting en masse? What's critical right now?
Send me your ideas by writing a comment on this post. Once we get enough ideas, we'll post a new assignment each week in the CPSIA section of the Etsy forums where we can update each other on our progress.
It's been almost two years since I last pulled my beautiful wedding dress out of its muslin-wrapped box to air it out. The seamstress I hired, Diana Ackerman, owner of The Threadbender, to clean and preserve it told me I should do it every year, but last year I found myself a little busy with a new baby in the house.
Opening that lovely gray box and setting aside the tissues to reveal my gown was, as always, an emotional experience. And to have my daughter there beside me (well, behind the baby gate a few feet away) to see it for the first time was a wonderful experience.
I'll carefully pack it away in its archival box tomorrow, but until then I'll think of our vows, first dance, toasts and new beginning every time I pass through my bedroom. And I'll have those memories to carry me through the year until I air it out once again.