I just turned a big number. It ends in a “0”….that’s right, 30! Hah! In my mind! No, really, try doubling that! It’s strange turning this age…some of you are there, some of you beyond, so you probably feel this sense of urgency too. Suddenly, you see two thirds of your life in the rear view and only one third ahead---IF you’re lucky. I began thinking about this and then found myself going down the rabbit hole of the internet. I found that in the United States, women live to be an average of 81 and men an average age of 76. Truth, google it! So, then I multiplied approximately how many years I have left and again multiplied it by 365 days in a year, and discovered...
Why is it that the most important lessons seem to come from the hardest times? Why can’t we just know what to do without the hard lessons? Years ago, I went through what seemed like every aspect of my life falling apart at once. My life read like a bad country western song…Betrayal, heartache, lack of motivation and the list went on. Although I worked hard at it all through therapy I still felt stuck in my own suffering. I had all but closed up Sweet Bird when it was when I walked into my packed up studio and began making the very first belt buckle. What seemed like a minute, turned into 5 hours and I became amazed and intrigued with this piece of metal...
Recipe For A Handmade Life: 1 Workbench 3 Retail Stores 5 Dogs 12 Studios 21+ Employees Countless Hours at the bench Undetermined number of designs and pieces sold Who knew what magic that lied ahead in just showing up thirty-five years ago to create the life I love through my companion, Sweet Bird? Now, I create alongside my son, Nate who wasn’t even born when I began. Certainly, not me. Raw, not knowing anyone or anything in the business, I ripped the band aid off, quit my high paying yet soul sucking job at the Federal Reserve Bank of Denver and decided to become an artist. How did I begin, you might ask? One piece at a time. In those days, I often purchased...
Third grade and we had just moved to a new place. Again. I stared in wonder as my new art teacher pulled out the papier-mache parts; flour, paper, water, balloons, mayonnaise jars and a picture showing us how to make our own lollipop tree. As everyone began emulating the dreaded tree, I saw something else. Eagerly, I wadded up paper, grabbed my mayonnaise jar and began. The wadded up paper became a big nose taped on the jar, then antlers from more paper. When the finishing touches of paint went on, I was thrilled to see a goofy moose head staring at me! The teacher came over and asked, “why haven’t you followed the instructions?” My balloon quickly popped. Draw in the lines, dammit! Have...
I am an old soul that grew up too fast. Not more than eight weeks out of college, I was hired as a financial analyst for the Federal Reserve Bank of Denver and I found myself eating lunch with my coworkers one day. Momentarily freed from my beige cubicle cell, they were talking about what they ‘wished’ they had done with their lives. Even at my young age I thought, “these people can’t be more than thirty and they acted as if it was over for them.” Wow. Eat your sandwich, shut up and plow on, I thought. Suddenly, without forethought, I had the uncontrollable urge to leave. I mean quit. I literally couldn’t take another minute. I remember my coworkers staring...
