![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the Art Borg will assimilate you
Feb. 6th, 2004 12:21 amI've just finished putting in my almost 30 hours at this job, this week. It's been another exhausting week, and tomorrow I need to count beads for my jewelry inventory...get that out of the way for this year.
Sunday, I talked to Barbara from Whistling Crow about wholesale vs. consignment for these wildlife rehab shows she's doing. She wants a bunch of stuff by March, and she will pay me outright for it, which is right when I desperately need a check. We need to talk about what kinds of things, and what designs, and then go from there. She wants to give me lists of things that people are interested in buying at these shows, and an amount of, say, barrettes, earrings, etc., and let me do whatever I want with that; these parameters feel very comfortable to me. So we have to talk a little bit more, and I have to count my inventory this weekend, then the last few loose ends of cleaning up the studio, and applying for the William Cullen Bryant Homestead Craft Festival, and then I should be set to go. Hopefully I will get these other things cleared up this weekend, so I can start in on Barbara's project. And, it's not secret any longer (if it ever was), Barbara is moving her store to Northampton, though it won't be opening for another couple of months, and she wants to stock things there...so my Northampton outlet problem is, I hope, solved.
The co-op meeting last night was much more relaxed and pleasant, though still not as happy as they used to be. I hope that last nasty bit was just a phase. It's hard to keep a grasp on group energy, sometimes by the time you know some unfortunate dynamic has been working itself up, it's too late, and there's been a catastrophe. It's the group mind: the Art Borg, as Morgan and I have joked (kind of hard to keep a straight face in meetings sometimes. I wonder how new members would feel if we referred to them as "assimilated." "Your six-month trial period is up, it's time to be assimilated." I suppose, though, that the point is to keep new artists, and unlike the Borg, we can't force people to stay after we've scared them. Pity, that, really).
The bookstore has a different kind of group mind, probably because of the fact that it actually has a management structure, unlike the co-op, where we make concensus decisions. I wonder how our fearless bookstore owner would feel about being the Borg Queen...hmmm...she's a Scorpio, she'd probably think that was a cool idea. I'll have to run it by her.
In other news, there weren't enough people to run the kiddo art class for the second semester, so we're out of luck. G has been pretty good this week, though by this time of the week, he's starting to get clingy. He actually grabbed onto my legs this morning and made me walk around the house with him attached like a little barnacle. And he always does this sort of thing in the morning, when, let's face it, I simply am not at my best, making me want to lock myself in a room. This, however, would likely only exascerbate the problem.
Speaking of morning, tomorrow morning is approaching like a train wreck, so I must go and be a rather dull person for the rest of the evening: that is, go home and go to bed, before I fall over.
Last note: _Darwin's Radio_ turned out to be a cliffhanger ending, more or less. Heartwrenching scenario. His description of the birthing scene brought it all back vividly...a little too vividly, thank you very much. At one point during labor, the mother of the baby looks at the father, and senses a vague affection for him, but can't really imagine ever having sex with him again. For those of you who have gone through the "beautiful miracle of childbirth," ack, that oughta be a laugh, right there.
Now reading: _Pure Dead Brilliant_ by Deb Gliori. Next installment in the middle grade reader series set in Auchenlochtermuchty, Scotland. A rather Scottish sense of humor and some fantastic gross parts. G will love it when he's nine, I'm sure. In the meantime, I am nurturing my inner nine-year-old.
and _Blue Shoe_ by Anne Lamott. Not far enough into this to really know what's going on. In general, though, I've liked her nonfiction better than her fiction, but this one's for the book club next week.
Sunday, I talked to Barbara from Whistling Crow about wholesale vs. consignment for these wildlife rehab shows she's doing. She wants a bunch of stuff by March, and she will pay me outright for it, which is right when I desperately need a check. We need to talk about what kinds of things, and what designs, and then go from there. She wants to give me lists of things that people are interested in buying at these shows, and an amount of, say, barrettes, earrings, etc., and let me do whatever I want with that; these parameters feel very comfortable to me. So we have to talk a little bit more, and I have to count my inventory this weekend, then the last few loose ends of cleaning up the studio, and applying for the William Cullen Bryant Homestead Craft Festival, and then I should be set to go. Hopefully I will get these other things cleared up this weekend, so I can start in on Barbara's project. And, it's not secret any longer (if it ever was), Barbara is moving her store to Northampton, though it won't be opening for another couple of months, and she wants to stock things there...so my Northampton outlet problem is, I hope, solved.
The co-op meeting last night was much more relaxed and pleasant, though still not as happy as they used to be. I hope that last nasty bit was just a phase. It's hard to keep a grasp on group energy, sometimes by the time you know some unfortunate dynamic has been working itself up, it's too late, and there's been a catastrophe. It's the group mind: the Art Borg, as Morgan and I have joked (kind of hard to keep a straight face in meetings sometimes. I wonder how new members would feel if we referred to them as "assimilated." "Your six-month trial period is up, it's time to be assimilated." I suppose, though, that the point is to keep new artists, and unlike the Borg, we can't force people to stay after we've scared them. Pity, that, really).
The bookstore has a different kind of group mind, probably because of the fact that it actually has a management structure, unlike the co-op, where we make concensus decisions. I wonder how our fearless bookstore owner would feel about being the Borg Queen...hmmm...she's a Scorpio, she'd probably think that was a cool idea. I'll have to run it by her.
In other news, there weren't enough people to run the kiddo art class for the second semester, so we're out of luck. G has been pretty good this week, though by this time of the week, he's starting to get clingy. He actually grabbed onto my legs this morning and made me walk around the house with him attached like a little barnacle. And he always does this sort of thing in the morning, when, let's face it, I simply am not at my best, making me want to lock myself in a room. This, however, would likely only exascerbate the problem.
Speaking of morning, tomorrow morning is approaching like a train wreck, so I must go and be a rather dull person for the rest of the evening: that is, go home and go to bed, before I fall over.
Last note: _Darwin's Radio_ turned out to be a cliffhanger ending, more or less. Heartwrenching scenario. His description of the birthing scene brought it all back vividly...a little too vividly, thank you very much. At one point during labor, the mother of the baby looks at the father, and senses a vague affection for him, but can't really imagine ever having sex with him again. For those of you who have gone through the "beautiful miracle of childbirth," ack, that oughta be a laugh, right there.
Now reading: _Pure Dead Brilliant_ by Deb Gliori. Next installment in the middle grade reader series set in Auchenlochtermuchty, Scotland. A rather Scottish sense of humor and some fantastic gross parts. G will love it when he's nine, I'm sure. In the meantime, I am nurturing my inner nine-year-old.
and _Blue Shoe_ by Anne Lamott. Not far enough into this to really know what's going on. In general, though, I've liked her nonfiction better than her fiction, but this one's for the book club next week.