All posts for the month December, 2016

Sand Head

Published December 14, 2016 by sarcasmica

This time of year is hard for lots of people. For me it’s a time of remembering losing my dad. It’s been 15 years.

Somehow I’m old enough to have missed my dad for the last fifteen years. This does not compute. It’s always a routine of “this time ___ years ago…” but this year I just allowed myself to keep busy. I should know by now this doesn’t work, but there’s not consistency to grief. Grief decides when you will pay attention to it, not you.

My husband has a surgery scheduled for tomorrow. He’s going to be laid up for quite some time. Because of this we have been getting rooms ready, houses ready, prep, prep and more prep. In the back of my mind I was keeping an eye on dates and potential gloom, but I wasn’t allowing it in.

I should know by now that this always finds a way out. Sadness, loss, grief, tears, sorrow, it all has it’s own path. You can pave that path, or it can tear through like a flash flood or a tsunami. Today was more of a heavy downpour. Today it all burst through the damn of tunnel vision.

The morning was rushed, a child took my breakfast which I then replaced just to hear the stolen meal was not delicious enough (most likely because I hadn’t had a chance to even take a bite of it yet) and more than half was thrown away.

This did not do it.

The morning chant of “Shoes shoes shoes” was performed, the backpack replay was sung, the MOVE IT remix was done. After getting out the door late with a failed attempt at hair decorations for my daughter and ponytail complaints we load up into the car already late to find an iced over windshield and no scraper…. that scraper WAS in the car before all the prep for the surgery was done and now where is it? In the garage.

After scraping, driving, dropping off, I head to my volunteer gig. On the way I replay the morning – as usual – and all the petty things come into my mind. Was I calm and loving with my kids? No. Was I patient? No. Did I offer my gloves to my daughter who wailed about forgetting hers? No.

There were reasons for all of those “No”s, but did they matter? Not while I was alone driving to my thing. I couldn’t help but feel a pang for all the parents who lost their babies four years ago in the Newtown tragedy. Loss. Regrets. Pain and anguish. It finds a way out.

I reflected on how grumpy i’ve been with my husband while we prepare for this shift. It’s not his fault, but things are going undone and being left for me while he gets his ducks in a row. It’s completely understandable, but I still feel the way I feel regardless.

I was too dented at this point not to let the recognition of the loss of my dad resonate a little off of my brain. .. so I just let it. I cried for how much I miss him … again. I cried for him missing his grandson’s Winter Concert. My son looked so handsome and proud in that suit, my dad would have loved to have seen it.

So today it all came crashing and tumbling down regardless of the other stuff that was happening. (like driving!)

It gets easier, but it doesn’t suck any less. It just sucks for a shorter time when it happens… and honestly it does happen less often.

So here we are again saying goodbye. I miss you dad.



Post Fair Wrap Up

Published December 11, 2016 by sarcasmica

So I did the fair. It’s done. Here’s the run down

I got up and got out the door at a decent hour. After spending far too long getting my happy juice at the local Mercury Coffee, I jauntily headed to set up my craft fair “booth”. (table in a corner near a stack of chairs)

Getting set up was weird. I walked into a flurry of craft fair pros with signage and table organizers and decorative table cloths all being tossed about. I sheepishly lugged my oversized Amazon box to the table and began prepping.

All I had to do was hang some command strips and put the wreaths on the wall. I did have some pictures and info on the sanctuary and a frame that showed a perpetual slideshow of pictures i’ve taken of the birds …  a sort of “who’s who” at the sanctuary.

I don’t know what I expected. …. scratch that. I expected the old “OPEN OPEN OPEN” commercial outside the doors. I expected a stampede when the clock hit 11. I expected more.

To put it into perspective, I have a real issue with expectations. I know when they are clearly out of whack with reality, but that seems to not make a difference to my lizard brain. I expect what  I expect and if something shouldn’t or can’t meet those expectations, well they better figure it out… stat!!

8 vendors in the first holiday craft fair at a new business in the corner of a shopping center on a busy street on a rainy Sunday afternoon during a Seattle Seahawks game.

Sarcasmica Reality:
Convention Center in the middle of the holiday rush


I was quite obviously the new kid on the fair block for many reasons. The first glaringly obvious reason was my hopeful face whenever the business doors opened. The second was the accepted dollar store plastic/cellophane-esque table cloth beneath my wares.

I had 9 wreaths displayed on the wall behind me. On the table in front were the hair clips/pins I had made in a frantic glue gun panic that I would quickly run out of options for my buyers. I also had a print out of my contact info and social media account names and some small odds and ends to peruse or purchase.

It was pretty sparse, but I thought acceptable. I had my little cooler handy and my phone charger because  – hello? sales! My little square strip reader was firmly embedded in my phone and I was set to impress myself.

The ladies that surrounded me had a much more muted outlook. They were all very nice ladies but were all obvious veterans of the cut throat crafting world. The glue gun burns, the home made jewelry piercings, the sewers wrist guards. It was a majestic site of bored retirees and housewives.

The clock struck 11! … and then 12, and then 1. .. we had maybe three people walk through during that time.
… maybe.

(My View for 90% of the day)
I was desperate! Everyone came into the small party room crammed with tables with their heads down looking at the items. My shit hung behind me on a wall well above table-level. I actually had to make a sign after the first two walked in and I had to actually Vanna White the wreaths behind my shoulders. -\_O_/-

One person actually jumped when they looked up.

The business owner felt bad about the turnout, so she ordered sandwiches for us “all”. (Did I mention there were only 8 of us?)

The vendor beside me had a raffle entry option. The host of the event also promised “hourly drawings”. By hour number 3 they were begging the vendors to toss their names into the boxes just to make it semi legit.

If it weren’t for the vendors buying each others items, I don’t know that anyone would have broken even. The bath bomb lady was the only one making a dent in her profit margin and that was because she had her precocious 10 year old gymnast daughter bouncing around pushing lots of the items.

A vendor near me had a friend drop by early on. She kept passing by me and “Ooohing” and “Wow”ing and complimenting my wreaths. By the third pass and the equal number of “Those really are beautiful”s I finally said, “You know, they’re for sale 🙂  ”

Everyone chuckled. I was proud for not letting the chip on my shoulder dance on the table when I said it.

By 4pm the bath bomb vendor called in a favor and a friend came down to check it all out. After about 30 minutes of chatting and perusing someone at another booth said, “You know I take cards, right?” to which we all immediately popped up and chimed in like hungry meerkats “Me too!” “Over here!” “We do too!”

This guy literally went around to each table that offered a card reader and bought something. That was my one sale today.

Unfortunately since I’m such a NOOB at this, I did not properly set up my Square reader and it was still in “demo mode” when I ran the card. I was immediately notified a sort of “Thank you, you have now completed your tutorial and the amount will be credited back to your account!”

To which I frantically began trying to undo the damage. We’ll see if it actually sticks.

The whole thing left me feeling confused, humbled, dejected, and frustrated. Driving home I was full of, “I can’t believe I spent money on that!” and “What the hell was the point?!” and “What a waste of time!”

As I pulled into my driveway with the impending deflation of facing my kids after failing, I realized I needed to pull it together. This was a learning experience and a teaching moment. I tried something new and scary. I did it on my own and I put myself and something that is pretty personal out there for strangers to weigh and judge. It didn’t work, but not because I didn’t do my best.

Later that night my son was having a really hard time with a plan his dad made with him changing. It was a fairly large plan that my son had to forgo something important with the promise he’d get it later… later never came. I sat with him and told him how I understand frustration and disappointment and feeling angry when something you hoped for and expected doesn’t happen. I sat and waited for my expectation to be met for 7 hours today. I was proud of the one sale that I did, and  I appreciated it, but it was not at all what I had expected to happen. I had to come home and get beyond my frustration and disappointment so I could find some enjoyment in the time left of the day with my kids.

I think he heard me. Now I need to work on what i’m going to do next. I don’t know that i’m going to accept giving up just yet, but I sure am not going near a glue gun for at least a month.

Hey, on the upside, turns out my dreams are prophetic!

Craft Prep

Published December 11, 2016 by sarcasmica

I’m doing my first craft fair today! I thought I was feeling fine about it but recent circumstances have changed my mind.

When I first considered doing this I only had 4 completed wreaths. And by “completed wreath” I mean a product I made a year ago that I could not sell in any way shape or form online. 

Exhibit A

So for the past 2 weeks i’ve been making more. I now have 10 and much like the OG 4, I like them a lot. 

This craft fair will not be huge, it’s being hosted by a new neighborhood small business, in fact. However, this thing in my head is taking place in a convention center! I worried that I needed something else to sell, so I made pins and clips, too.

Exhibits B & C 🙂

This all became kind of big. Next I had to decide on pricing…cant i just say “make me an offer!”? 

A friend texted me last night asking how I was occurred to me that I wasnt nervous. I was excited and just worried I’d forget something…like the wreaths or the hooks to hang them.

Anyway, after packing and prepping and planning for the morning I say something to my husband and realize Im getting the tiniest blister on my lip.


What the hell?! 

I find my lip medicine and feel ok again. Then I realize I have no easy place to put the humongous box holding the wreaths. The kids come down before me in the morning ..but I cant keep them up high in case they get knocked over. The styrofoam will snap if they get dropped. (Dont ask how i know 😡) 

I think I find an acceptable spot and my husband points out, “You dont think the cat will chew the feathers, do you?”

Shit. Now I have to deal with him being right about something i’ve missed AND i need a new spot.

Kitchen table will have to do. I go to bed still feeling good, optimistic (unfamiliar territory for me) and excited.

I proceed to have two back to back disasterous dreams – One ending in a fiery explosive bus crash with Ramona from Real Housewives of New York- and the other taking place at a death trap amusement park where my daughter drowns under the Golden Gate Bridge while playing on icebergs.

What.the.hell ?!?!

I decide at 6am sleep was not my friend. I will shake off this heebie jeebie night of disaster. I calm myself by scrolling through FB and decide to write a chuckle post about maybe now feeling nervous….only it does not show up on MY FB page.

Oh no. Where is it? What did I post that to? 

Just our neighborhood facebookpage. No big deal! Only the town I live in that will HOPEFULLY be coming to the craft fair.

Delete delete delete!

After a partially coherent PTDD (post traumatic dream disorder) fit of flying sweaty fingers I think I managed to erase it before it was seen by anyone…at least this is what I am telling myself so this blister does not explode and run rampant over my entire face.

Here’s to a calm and pleasant disaster-free craft fair experience!


Published December 2, 2016 by sarcasmica

I have nothing to say.

Scratch that, I have nothing entertaining to say that I dont want shared with people who look me in the eyes on a daily basis. 

I’m smack dab in the middle of familial forty. Nothing overly exciting happens anymore. We have a hamster- ooooh

We have a sick cat, currently. That’s all kinds of thrilling. Medicating her has actually been entertaining for my family audience. If I had filmed the various forms of forced pill digestion i’m sure I could have illicited a half chuckle at the least. (You will be billed for your entertainment before you click on the ‘x’ to escape – err I mean leave – this post)

I am currently preparing for a craft fair. A tiny town craft fair. It’s pornographic in it’s excitement, right?!?

There’s something to be said for an uneventful and consistent life. Lord knows i’ve had a bit of hectic crazy stressful drama. Uneventful just makes for terrible life stories.

My friend and I went to a raucous “Ladies Night” last night…hosted by my chiropractor.

Titilating, no? 

We went and checked in at all the tables to browse the over priced wares. I succumbed to my first LuLaRoe purchase. I expect my bonus delivery of kool aide any day now. They were too cute to pass up.

We did stop in for a make over. Did I mention this was hosted by my chiropractors office? Needless to say Stacy London was nowhere to be found. We did, however, have a wonderful young Millennial with her brand spankin new cosmetology license have a field day with my lack of any self maintenenace. She probably thought I was a plant to test her skills. She tsked me for my passion for hot morning showers in which I wash my hair….



It’s essentially self-mutilation. The second blow came when I admitted to washing my face for the last 20 years with….

You ready? 

Not horse piss

Not Elf tears, but…….

Bar soap


Once she caught her breath, she coached me on all the other habits I must immediately cease. 

Eyeliner. My interpretation: “What the fuck is wrong with you, lady? Did you learn makeup husbandry from the cavemen with the hammer and chisel?! Eyeliner, psssh. Mascara only to open up your eyes!”

What was actually said: “What is your goal?Here’s how to accomplish that…”

“Yes ma’am, so sorry to have offended you with my small defined beady eyes ma’am!” 

All in all it was an eye-opening night

*pause for slow clap*

It was fun to get out with my friend and feel pressure to buy things that were totally unnecessary. Like the $75 box of vitamins. Those vitamins did not contain lipo suction, a yummy pool boy, or Vin Diesel’s sweat so I passed. 


I did not buy a $225 essential oil kit. My essential oils are maintained in my pores with a strict regimen of potato chips and chocolate.. and  for a minute fraction of the price! Combined with the $30 hair accessory booth, we were happy to leave with most of our bank account still intact. 

And now, because i’m old, im abruptly ending this post because im tired and in need of all the beauty sleep I can find. .. apparently it’s not in my bar soap!

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