damselcorsets.com

Monday, November 20, 2017

Grab Bag RULES and Details for 2017!

Okay! It's that time of year again! The MOST wonderful time of the year!! I'm here to give you some details about our Grab Bags this year, so listen carefully, pull up a chair, get yourself a cup of hot cocoa (I'm cutting down on my sugar and I like weird health foody things, so the cocoa that I'm drinking is actually made of reishi mushrooms....yeah.....) and indulge in the details!

Why This Sale Happens!
*Every year we have this sale to clear out specific types of items. When I am producing corsets through the year for my shows, I always try to make sure to have a very good size range, and it's one of the most important things to me to endeavor to fit EVERY lady that walks into my booth. I like to have a booth that is filled with possibilities for every size, and doesn't leave anyone out! Therefore, when I have wonderful success, like I always do, and I sell out a ton of the sizes, I'm left with these lonely pieces. When ladies come in and squeal with delight because they've found the perfect fabric for them, only to find that I have 3 sizes left, and none of them will fit....well...it's not how I want to live my life.

*Additionally, it's good to remember that lots of my time in my days is spent building relationships with fabric suppliers so that I can get better wholesale deals on the raw materials so that I can keep passing on the savings to you. Trust me, I'm not going over to JoAnn and paying retail for my fabrics. These corsets would have to be marked up to about 4 times the price if I had to pay out that much.  However, to get my good prices, I have to tell the supplier that I will buy WHOLE bolts (about $1,200 each for our beautiful chenille upholstery) and I have to tell them that I will also be buying 10 of those bolts at a time. Money talks, people. My suppliers also offer deep discounts if I will buy discontinued fabrics WITHOUT being able to see them first! Gasp, it's sort of like what I'm doing to you with the grab bags!! Anyhow, when we have corsets that are made out of discontinued fabrics, and I obviously can't restock my sizes, they go into these Grab Bags. The great thing is that means they are a lot more rare, special, and unicorn-y!



WHEN: 
Black Friday, November 24th, 2017 at 7 AM MST (That is Mountain Time. This will be 9 AM East Coast, 8 AM Central, and 6 AM West Coast)

Cyber Monday, November 27th, 2017 at 7 PM MST (Same time breakdown as above. only in the evening!)


HOW the Levels Work!

*I will try to make this brief. Since we don't only do corsets, we also have other wonderful handmade items in the bags as well! When we are packing, we TRY to make things match, but after we've packaged up 100 boxes, the pickings might start to get sparse. That's why we pack up the most expensive boxes with the most items FIRST, and then when all of the extra skirts, blouses, and other things are gone, we do Level 1 boxes, which only  have the deeply discounted corset.  

*Speaking of "extra items", these are the fun, marvelous things that we make through the year to match with our corsets. This could be blouses, cropped vests, cloaks, hooded vests, ruffle harnesses, tie-on peplum ruffles, bustle skirts, full length skirts, carousel skirts, all the style of skirts, detachable hoods, detachable sleeves, and all manner of wonderous things! This year is our best skirt selection ever. I did something that I've NEVER done, and just took my WHOLE ENTIRE skirt inventory and put them into the boxes, regardless of whether or not they would normally qualify. 

*So, about the Levels.

*Level 1: Corset Only   
UNDERBUST PRICE: $50 + $20 s&h    
OVERBUST: $75 + $20 s&h
You will know if the corset is underbust (goes underneath the breasts) or overbust (goes up over them, more like the fit of a bra). You will know the waist size of the corset (remember, we measure the corsets by pulling THEM tight, like they would be on a human being. I've had people send me pictures where they just laid a measuring tape on the corset to measure it. Well, friends...the corset doesn't just "lay" gently on your body..it's pulled extremely tight and supports! We try to be as accurate as possible!) but you won't know color, style, or any other details. 

*Level 2: Corset + 1 Item
UNDERBUST PRICE: $100 + $25 s&h
OVERBUST PRICE: $125 + $25 s&h
Same info on the corsets as above. This will include one other item. I know that this year's packages have a lot of beautiful, soft, wintery cloaks along with the corsets. Holy NIGHT, I'm generous!!



*Level 3: Corset + 2 Items
UNDERBUST PRICE: $200 + $38 s&h
OVERBUST PRICE: $250 + $38 s&h
Same info on corsets. We try to put the corsets in here the are a little bit more expensive to begin with. I know we have a lot of gorgeous Voyager Corsets (Retail $179-$209) and Over-Archer Corsets (Retail $225 to $250). When my team  is packing these, I tell them to try to add up the math on the items as they are packing and be sure that everything is AT THE VERY LEAST 30% off of everything, but I would say that they are more like HALF OFF. Anyhow, the two other items along with the corset are also probably going to be more pricey pieces. We really do try to be generous with these bags! 



*Level 4: Tailed Corset or Peplum Ruffle Corset. Fancier, Coat-Style Corsets that are the Premier Line of what we produce!
+ 3 Other Items!
***If the coat has matching sleeves, the sleeves count as an item!***
Underbust: $250 + $38 S&H
Overbust: $300  + $38 S&H
These are our Deluxe packages, with the most expensive, most sought-after items in them! They are the ones that are most likely to match, and the bags that are the most likely to cause people to get into online fights.(haha, not really. I've been amazed at how kind and supportive you all have been!). This year, I know that we have a TON of gorgeous Peplum Ruffle Corsets. I'm really excited about these ones! Just the other day, I was packing an overbust coat with a retail price of $459 along with a full length bustle skirt ($129) a blouse ($39) and a pair of bloomers ($49). Holy crap!!


How to Buy:
So, the reason that we switched to posting these items on facebook is because we have broken etsy several times, as well as my own site, when people were all purchasing as the exact same SECOND! With the facebook commenting program, when you comment sold  (with NO capitalization, punctuation, extra comments, or anything!) Soldsie captures those comments in the exact order that they come in. We can see on the back end who comments first. If your facebook is set to see the most "popular" comments first, instead of seeing the comments in the order they come in, you might see your comment at the top and get all excited. Be sure that your facebook is set the proper way!

Here is an example of how it would work. I want a Level 3 Underbust Grab Bag in a size 29. When I see that  exact item pop up on facebook (items are auto-posted every 15 seconds. We don't do this manually!) , I will comment sold  If I have already pre-registered with Soldsie, then I will go to my email that I  used to sign up, and there will be an invoice that I can pay! I pay with either a credit card or paypal, and I gleefully await my wonder package!  If I haven't registered, Soldsie will comment BELOW my sold comment with a registration link. I register, pay, and then I'm on my way!

*You only have 30 Minutes to  pay your invoice! 

*If you don't pay within 30 minutes, it goes to the next person in line that commented after you! Normally, you could "authorize" your funds and be moved to the front of the line, even before people that commented before you. You would be saying "Here's my money, authorized, take it!" However, we had a lot of problems with banks holding funds for a stupid amount of time last year. It wasn't on our end, it was up to the banks, but good glory!

*If you purchase two bags, don't wait to see if you've gotten them both before you pay! It's best if you don't just comment on several things and hope to win one like a lottery. I've had people that just commented on several things because they were worried they wouldn't get even one, but then they ended up with 3 or 4 invoices that they couldn't afford. It generally makes it more difficult for others. Only comment on the things that you are willing to buy.

*No Combined Shipping!  
I have already paid my crew of about 10 people to work every day, all day, for the last two weeks to ONLY do  packaging. We absolutely cannot afford to un-package everything and try to re-combine, re-box, reprint different labels, and keep everything straight. Sorry, guys.

We get one invoice. We get the box. We put the shipping label on the box. We ship it.


Bonus!
*Every package will come with two ribbons, a business card, a cute little button, a sticker, and TWO $20 OFF coupons! Wow, so that's like another $40. Heck yes!




Thursday, November 9, 2017

Grow a Pear

Saturday mornings should have been classically glorious when I was younger, but the second it started getting to be springtime, my parents would designate Saturday mornings for yard cleaning. I can hardly blame them. I mean, I only have four kids and they completely wreck my house in a matter of minutes! Having eight kids, like my parents did? Yeah...I would make them freaking clean. Anyhow, we lived on a huge farm, as I have mentioned several times. Our yard probably covered about an acre or so, which is real dang huge, and we were all sent out to make an attempt at cleaning. 

Southwest Missouri is wild and unkempt. Things flourish when you don't want them and they die and wither when you do want them. For instance, we had masses of blackberry briar patches that would scare the pants off of Brer Rabbit. Wait..was he wearing pants? Anyhow, our whole land was filled with strange plants that just blasted from the earth and refused to be chopped down, rooted up, or burned with fire. One morning, in particular, we were burning things. Obviously, this wasn't a bad job for us to do. I mean, destroy on purpose? Check me in. 

We were supposed to be doing our burning chores, but my younger sister suddenly got distracted. "Look!", she yelled, pointing upwards to the heavens. There, at the very top of our pear tree was one single, shimmering pear. Well, "shimmering" is not a fair adjective. This pair tree was jacked. None of use knew what to do with fruit trees, and we didn't quite have a trusting relationship with this tree in particular. It grew pears that my sister lovingly named "Leprosy Pears".  The skin on them was mottled, thick, and a hideous brownish green. Not unlike the Orcs from "Lord of the Rings." I'm serious. They were an atrocity. The irony is that they were some of the best pears I had ever tasted. Sweet, but not overly so. Hardened and crispy to the point that we could have used them to prop up dead cars instead of the cinder blocks that were currently assisting us. (Cliche, right?). I honestly liked these horrible, weird pears. Then again, that should come as no surprise to any of you who know me. You might look at some of my personal costumes and think, "Oh my gosh, she got her inspiration from the Leprosy Pears!" 


So, here was this one pear. Fruit trees are strange in the fact that some years, the bumper crop is so profuse that you could solve world hunger if you could just transport the dang harvest, but then the next year the tree will produce only a few measly little offerings. (Honestly, perhaps I should learn from nature here. Sometimes, you push hard and produce. Sometimes, you take a break and don't impress anyone. ;) ) My sister, my brother, and I KNEW we had to get to this pear. There was no way that we could climb this treacherous tree, because the unpruned branches got more and more spindly and sparse as they traveled up to the top, where the pear was. We decided to just start throwing things to knock it down. Whoever felled it to the earth would gain victory over the Leprosy Pear and get to feast on its vessel!

The only problem is that the pear would not come down. The only other problem was that we weren't doing our burning chores. The only other, more different problem was that my Dad was overseeing the burning, and his kids were no where to be found. 

Okay, so if you've ever watched "Parks & Recreation", then you have a good idea of who Dad is. He's sort of Ron Swanson with even less patience for stupidity. Everyone else thinks that they know a guy who is a hard worker. Your hard worker cannot beat my Dad. Sorry, I know I sound like a kindergartener here, but I'm right. He sacrificed every single day of his life for his huge family. He knows how to do everything! He is the best finish carpenter in the history of history. He's worked on mansions worth millions of dollars. He's put all sorts of fancy carved columns in all sorts of fancy places. He has built two different houses for my family from the ground up. He only speaks wise words. He doesn't fill up conversations with useless niceties. And, holy hell, he does NOT tolerate people goofing off when they are supposed to be doing their burning chores!!!



I think I had just thrown a shovel up into the air hoping to hit the pear. True story. Then, I heard some twigs snapping and the sound of footsteps. My blood ran cold as my I turned slowly to behold the dark shape of my father walking out of the mists of smoke. All of us kids just stood there in terror, rooted in place and trembling at the amount of "not work" that we had accomplished. I just knew I was going to get in serious trouble. 

My dad silently tromped forward, stopped next to us, bent down, picked up a faded red plastic Fisher Price wheelbarrow, flung it heavenward, and knocked. the. pear. down. First try. He stooped down, picked it up, and handed it to us. 

Oh my gosh. What just happened? We didn't get our "butts whupped" (that's how you do it in Southwest Missouri). We didn't get in trouble. I honestly just remember us all quietly going in and eating lunch. Also the Leprosy Pear. 

I still think of this story all the time when I feel overworked, overwhelmed, and underappreciated. When I remind myself to "stop and smell the roses", I oftentimes snicker to myself and say, "Michelle, just stop and knock down the pear." 

Wednesday, October 25, 2017

Pop Your Balloon

Corsets in all their glory! Now on the website!!
The hottest boy in my fourth grade class was named Eb Scroggins. I know, right? What's more is that his brother was named Obe, and his brother's BEST FRIEND was named Zeb Sturgeon. Holy night! You can't make this stuff up. So, Eb had a sweet early-90's buzz cut, a surprisingly strong jawline for his age, and freaking dimples. Yup, all the girls were in love. In particular was the most popular girl in the class (It's so nice that the popular kids always end up in love....right? I mean, in the movies, the popular kid goes bravely outside their circle to befriend a loner....a strange, quirky, witty delight that ends up.....having to change themselves to become another one of the crowd. Huh. That's depressing. Phew, back to the story!) named Jessica Tatum. It's always a Jessica, isn't it? (sorry to the GOOD Jessicas out in the world! I know and cherish a few of you....but your name has been soiled.)

The coolest kids in the class formed a soccer group at recess, and it was super elite. Like, we're talking Skull & Crossbones Society type of crap here. I certainly wasn't part of the group, but my friend Brenda had managed her way in, which is where this story comes from. You see, all the girls in class were all sorts of jealous of Jessica Tatum, because she had blond highlighted hair and it managed to never lose it's perfectly curled 90s glory. She also had..um..."bloomed" rather early, and as all of us women with breasts know, you can't stand it when you don't have them, and then when you have them, you complain about them..?? (My deepest gratitude goes out to the few of my customers who have just been  happy with their breast size. Way to go! And no need to launch into an attack about how the too big of breasts hurt your back. I know that, gals. I have heard everything and anything about breasts over the years of doing corsets. ;) Trust me, gratitude takes you miles further than disappointment and complaining.)

Anyhow, Jessica and Eb were "going out" together, which I believe means to literally "look at each other and giggle sometimes, pass maybe 5-6 notes a week, and hang out within around 20 feet of each other at recess." They were always down on the soccer field of elitism, looking cool, and doing whatever cool kids do. One day, they were in a particularly aggressive game, and Eb had to leap in and push someone out of the way to get to the ball. That someone was wearing a white shirt. That someone suddenly had an inexplicable and sudden splat of brown goo leaking out of that white shirt right up in the chest area. That someone was Jessica Tatum. 

Apparently, Jessica had been stuffing her little training bra with water balloons filled with chocolate pudding! I mean, I'm not sure if it was always chocolate..maybe sometimes it was vanilla, but holy FREAK, pudding!!!!! Part of me looks back and admires the creativity, and part of me wonders what was wrong with basic wadded up toilet paper. Yeah, so Jessica ran off the field very quickly and her mother came to pick her up. 

We didn't see her for another week. I'm not sure what was going on in her little brain. Honestly, I've never understood the brains of the girls who just naturally have that "certain something" and attract all people to them like sugary drinks attract insects. Like..if you got inside their brain, do they actually, on some level, BELIEVE, "Yeah, all boys like me. Girls like me and are jealous of me. Everyone wants to be with me."  Or is it like the narration in my own brain, which..uh....certainly doesn't sound like that?

The crazy part is that she still came back to school with head held high, no one ever talked about it again (except here on my blog.......and no, I didn't change the names to protect the innocent. The names were too perfect. Sorry, guys!), AND she still had perky, early blossomed breasts. Holy cow! It was a Martha Stewart level comeback!! 


I've always took this story and used it as an illustration in my life to show me two things. Number One, you can handle a LOT more than you think. Number Two, all of us are probably doing a little bit of...um..pudding balloon stuffing. All of us want to be the first, be the best, be admired, get noticed, feel special. All of us have vastly different, and sometimes destructive methods, but we all are filling our balloons with SOME level of pudding and stuffing them somewhere in our lives....and maybe that's okay. Maybe it's a "fake it til you make it" type of deal. Maybe it's that we are just displaying something decorative on the outside that we KNOW is on the inside and will eventually find its way out into reality. 


Just watch out on the soccer field. Don't let anyone pop that balloon. 

Thursday, October 5, 2017

Spoooky Tales

When I was younger, I was madly, obsessively in love with a boy named Tyrel who lived in a large two-story old Civil War mansion. This place was just mind-blowing. It was right next to a Civil War graveyard, and if you go to Newtonia, Missouri, you can still find many physical relics of one of the larger battles that was fought there. To this day, there is still a reenactment group that gets together all Civil War style (my kind of freaking people!) and occasionally you can get tours inside the house. Okay....ah, thanks, the internet. HERE is the house!


And Tyrel...well....he actually looked extraordinarily like Milo Ventimiglia. Holy Goodness. I know. I KNOW!! Just make his hair curlier. Man, I need someone to back me up here...... I wish any of the kids that I went to high school with read blog. 


Anyhow, back to the mansion.  Ty was not one to tell wild stories. He had serious dark eyes and a stoicism about him. However, he solemnly told me about many various ghost stories that occurred while his family lived there.  Here's what I found on the internet:

"This home is rumored to be full of paranormal activities by several ghosts. It has been said that there is a piano that plays on it own along with door that open and close, lights that flicker and turn on and off. There have been various sightings of ghosts over the years in the houses as well as in the small ran down cemetery located on the property. It is a two-story, antebellum mansion, constructed by slaves over a period of years in the late 1840’s and believed to be the oldest structure in Newton County. There are two cemeteries west of the house. One features the ornate headstones of the Ritchey family. The other has plain, uncut stones that mark the spot slaves have been buried. The mansion house served as a hospital for both sides during the Civil War. The mansion has what is called “the black room.” It is said they painted the floor black because of the blood stains on the floor."
-https://hauntsofmissouri.wordpress.com/2015/02/08/private-residence-newtonia/


And I'm telling you, it seems to match his stories. He said he had heard soft, old music playing faintly in other rooms where there were no speakers, figurines being moved to certain spots on shelves, no matter how many times they were moved back, and definite, odd things that happened in the "Black Room". His mom kept thinking that her kids were causing problems and playing tricks, running up and down the stairs lightly during the night, and then she still heard the pattering on the stairs the night she locked them in their room. Huh.

I have loved Halloween my whole life. I think that when I first watched "The Nightmare Before Christmas" where there was a whole entire HalloweenTown, I thought I had died and gone to.....well....that town. ;) I don't necessarily enjoy slasher movies, or terrifying and disturbing things. I guess I enjoy a little bit of mysticism. I love the unexplained. I don't want it explained. I don't want a scientist to come in and tell me how it all worked. I want to wonder...it feels akin to dreaming and hoping. My dreams and hopes are..um..definitely not reality. I can't even begin to tell you how I entertained lofty teenage fantasies of marrying the Tyrel from this story, and both of us becoming music stars and making buttloads of money all grown from our love (yup, he played guitar, and he was actually good....also a deep, lovely singing voice!). That reality didn't occur, and my life went in a different direction, but the "what if" was still tantalizing.

What if??.....

And, to add to the mystery, the beautiful Red Riding Hood pieces here will be on our website today. http://www.damselcorsets.com  We will not be having an Hourglass Event, because I'm sort of just being sure to tantalize your brains with images and imagined stories for your life every day for our 13 Days of Halloween. Thanks to all of you stunning people, and please, keep the imagination alive! 



Thursday, September 21, 2017

Don't Drop the Tin of Cookies!



Don't Drop the Tin of Cookies!
I was in a cheery, 90's Christmas-themed Elementary School play when I was in 3rd grade. I remember this whole incident very well, because I think it's partly where my squirmy and uncomfortable fear of adults came from. My teacher had announced that we were doing this big play for all of our parents for the yuletide season, and there would be try-outs the next day. They handed us sheets of dialogue, and urged us to practice.

You wouldn't have recognized me as a kid. I was extremely shy, quiet, and reserved. You know, I can never tell if the “real” me turned into a different adult me....or if the adult me IS the “real” me and the kid was the fake. Either way, I had this ardent yearning to be the lead in the school play....and maybe that desire came from that same mystical place where my more fiery adult personality originated. I literally FELT it in all of the particles of matter in my body that I would be in that play, and I would be the star.

I wanted to be a star. I wanted to be noticed. I wanted to be admired and praised after delivering a stirring performance up on stage that brought the audience to tears and made them wonder at their own existence. When it came time to audition, I gathered all of my faculties and made the slow walk up to the front of the cafeteria, where the hopefuls and the judges awaited. I remember all of those heart-pounding, powerful emotions that come with a tryout. The unknown is oddly seductive. There is still the appealing zest of “what if?”

It's nice to be noticed and admired. This is me, Leif when he was a baby,  and my youngest sister.
Yeah, I didn't get it. They gave it to the popular girl. How in the junk are there “popular” kids in 3rd grade? What did Stacey have that I didn't have?? And really...I mean... Stacey? I guess I really DID grow up in the epitome of the 90s. Sigh. Well, if those crusty-toot-shingles couldn't see the brilliance that I was, they didn't deserve my talent! However, I didn't deserve the part of “lady in store #2” either.

My part was simple. I had one line. Heh. “You had ONE job.”

In the story, there is a store owner who started out grumpy and annoyed with Christmas, and by the end, he has learned the true meaning of the holiday, and he started giving away the tins of cookies in his shop. Piled high, on a rectangular folding table, were many tins that normally house those wretched little dry, crumbling butter cookies in all shapes and sizes. I'm sure that people had brought a few of the empty popcorn tins as well...you know, the kind that had 3 different kinds of popcorn, and the cheddar always got eaten first, and then the caramel was too rich and slowly died a horrible sticky death after the tin got put into some closet and then you found it next Christmas.


Anyhoo, as Shop Lady #2, I got the blessed role of being gifted the tin and exclaiming, “OH, thank you, Sir! Thank you very much!” I had a terrifying teacher who was endeavoring to run this production with an iron fist, and she got down to my level, looked me straight in the eye, and uttered, “Michelle, these tins are right underneath the microphone. Look up. You see it there? If you drop this tin, the sound will echo through the whole gymnasium, and hurt all of the ears of the audience. Whatever you do, DO NOT DROP THIS TIN!”

Yeah, I dropped the tin. There I was, sweating up under the lights, and I felt that I could at least deliver the most heartfelt line possible. It was definitely a slow-motion moment as the kid/store owner was handing me the tin. I was thanking him jubilantly, and my little fingers just slipped. I froze, hearing the clanging echoing sound of the tin as it dropped and then bounced a couple of times, to finally roll in a traitorous line off the stage.

And you know what? I honestly don't remember anything that happened after that. Maybe I ran off the stage crying. Maybe I turned and told the scary teacher to be more careful about whom she curses. I don't remember.

I didn't get the part. I ruined the part that I DID play. I dropped the tin.

As an adult, this is laughable and charming to remember. We all had those paralyzing, embarassing moments. All of us, even Stacey perhaps, have “not gotten the part.” Then again, we don't know how that loss might have possibly shaped the “parts” we got in the future. I mean, holy night...what if the braver, more self-assured adult tME came from that experience. That part of the that wanted to be admired never went away. :/

And honestly, I'm hoping that my current “dropping of the tin” feelings make me able to become more of who I know I am in the future. A star. A....Stacey, even.  

This is Leif, my little toddler. He is a star. 

Friday, September 15, 2017

Perfection


These are from last fall, but I thought they would be a beautiful reminder of how awesome this season is that we are entering into! Also, the kids in the wagon (my son Leif, and then Becca's little girls, Violet and Eve) have the hugest personalities I've ever seen....and they still get along...perfectly.

A revelation came to me the other day. My sister and I were talking about what the subject was in their Sunday School class, and apparently it was running along the lines of “things that will be great in the life after this.” (FYI, I do believe in an afterlife...however, I can't think about it too hard, or else my brain will explode. Suffice it to say, I've decided that maybe I could be this really hip, cool Angel that sews all of the white robes for us heavenly messengers, but I would make them all edgy, and put boning and hidden corsets in them, and then everyone would all be sexy and such. Hallelujah, right?) Anyhow, in the class discussion, one of the ladies raised her hand and said that she SO looked forward to an existence where all of our relationships are perfect and all of our communication is perfect.

My sister was smiling and nodding, but then suddenly she actually tried to THINK about what that magical dreamland would entail (she has the same overactive type of brain that I do!). She was straining, endeavoring to image out this Utopia of “perfect” relationships, and she realized she didn't even know what that looks or sounds like. For instance, she said that maybe a perfect relationship might be one where she and her husband never argued, but then she realized that those arguments had brought them closer together and strengthened their communication! Wait...so...is that perfect?

It got my brain rolling. What the heck is a perfect relationship? I instantly thought of how I'm always bursting out these fantastic, stupendous, can't-even-believe-no-one-has-thought-of-this IDEAS for businesses, and when I tell them to my husband, he takes his logical, planning brain and starts pointing out pitfalls, drawbacks, and the general booby-trappery of all of my dreams! Maybe a “perfect” relationship would be one where he hears my ideas and gives me a high-five and then we ride off in a Unicorn Rental LLC business into the sunset.

No, actually. No.


A perfect relationship, in my brain, is exactly what happens. I feel annoyed and frustrated by his doubts, and I accuse him of wanting to rain on my Personal Parade Inc. Because of his questions and dubiousness, I get all charged up, with my heart pounding, and my brain whirling, and I come up with solutions for his fears, insights for his misunderstandings, and an even BETTER business plan for the “bottled herbal tea that has all those herbs that are supposed to make your chest bigger” dream!

Is “perfection” what we have already? Do we have to adjust the lenses? If we don't have “perfection”, do we actually WANT IT? Holy crap. Do I really want perfection?


Now, my brain is doing that overthinking my afterlife angel-seamstress existence again. Oh, great. Just perfect! 

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

I artery gave you MY heart, so here's something in the same vein

Here you go to all of you friends who want something a little bit more quirky for Valentine's Day cards to pass out.  Download it, print it, cut 'em out, and pass 'em out!  :)