I have, this summer and early fall, been very consumptive. Part of it relates to my experimentation with anxiety and part of it was just that sometimes I am consumptive. I’ve been passive about a lot things, and have separated myself from those who make things.

It sounds fancy, doesn’t it? Making things.


(I found the picture on tumblr somewhere, I be happy to attribute it if I had done a half-way decent job of documenting it or if you know where it comes from).

In the last few weeks, it has become clear that I need to try and start moving out of my consumptive mode, to begin to dream of things worth making, to both admire and begin to learn from those who take the time to make. I’m starting small, because that is the only way to really start.

A big batch of caramelized onions (kiddo announces he can smell them outside).
A new batch of lunch for me this week (LikeMyMamaSays points out that the crock pot in my home is woefully underutilized)

Kiddo was cleaning his room today (making — a better place for shoes, making — a secret room to play in) and we were looking at a toaster (with pop-up mechanism) that was made for him a few years ago by my dad. He asked why grandpa had made it, and I said because grandpa had been a maker every day of his life. It is how he loves people.

It feels far away, but I think it is time to make something.