Petunias, paint and inspiration

Hubby and I stayed in North Dakota this year for the July 4th holiday. I'm not complaining, the Fourth is something to behold in ND! We were both just terribly homesick. Used to being with lots of family, spending the summer's holiday with just of the two of us was a unique experience for us both and we were a little on the gloomy side. Our moods dictated a road trip!

Canada is only about four hours away and sadly, I had yet to go. We took highway 83 north and then headed east to Lake Metigoshe and then the International Peace Garden. The garden sits on the border of Manitoba and North Dakota and is dedicated to world peace. What a lovely idea.

The border is right there, naturally so after a little geography lesson and some slightly bizarre questioning by the border guard, we were in Canada. How exciting! I'm an international traveler! The first town we came to was Boissevain. 

Ah, Boissevain! I found this tiny town of 1,500 people inspiring. There were flower baskets filled with brightly colored petunias hanging from all the light posts and in these man-made "trees" at pivotal spots around town. The town is a railroad and farming town with few claims to fame. But, the people of Boissevain loved their small town and had worked hard to make it special.

There was the Art Park that was well-loved and vibrant with native plants all blooming in spectacular color. The sides of the buildings were painted with murals depicting the history of the town and area. This was a place whose residents loved their corner of the world and wanted others to see how special it was too. The town had a sincerity about it that had me a little embarrassed at my too-often cynical outlook of the world and its' people. This town had made an effort, a real effort. And that, to me, was super impressive. 

Boissevain was a reminder that you can make anyplace and anything special with love, hard work and a little imagination. 

Just look around a little, inspiration is everywhere,

Ms.b.haven

Full brains and busy work

Yeowza, time passes! It's the beginning of July, for Heaven's sake. Now is the time I start ramping up production for Christmas items. Or, should I say, I SHOULD be ramping up for Christmas.

As you know from previous posts, I've been struggling. I have had to let some things go for my sanity's sake. My brain is full and I spend a lot of time in there. The problem is, it hasn't been filled with my business stuff as is normally the case.

In June, I poured concrete, build two large flower beds, repaired my deck - and then re-repaired my deck. I have laid carpet and painted, painted, painted. I mowed, dug holes and filled in holes. You get the idea. I'm "helping" my stepson get his house ready for market and attending to some much-needed upkeep on my own place. In other words, I've been as busy and tired as possible without actually working on b.haven.

Guilt has crept in. The list of things to feel guilty about is long and entirely unrealistic. But nonetheless, She's (I'm calling guilt "she" for no particular reason) there. I have been grieving and keeping it all to myself. Guilt and grief tend to go hand-in-hand, I've noticed. I've not called my wonderful friends and family to whine about how sad I am. I have not gone back home to help my stepmom with getting Dad's place ready for sale or to help her pack and sort. I've not kept up with the business end of things at b.haven or produced those promised new items for my vendors. I've canceled shows. I'm wallowing in my grief alone and by choice. I'm taking advantage of the understanding of others, knowing full well that there is a limit to their good will, as there should be. I tell myself it is ok, that we each deal with life's trials in our own way. I know that time will pass and I will have more good days than bad at some point. But I'm not there yet.

Soooo, what's the point? Well, then, that is a good question. I guess my thought is that by admitting to struggling publicly, it would somehow be cathartic to me.

Yes, it IS all about me, didn't you know?
-Ms.b.haven

Things end, things begin...

So my Daddy is gone. He passed away the last day of April. People ask me how I'm doing, and I don't know what to say exactly. How do I say that I'm a bit lost, overwhelmed, and very sad but also so filled with love and peace in one or two words? I settle for, "I'm ok." 

I made it to his side a couple of weeks before and watched the painful decline. I tried to help in the only way I knew how. I fed the horse, cat, and birds. I planted flowers, took out the trash and mowed and mowed and mowed... Keeping busy was my therapy. And the people came! So many friends, family, former coworkers and neighbors came that our refrigerator was overflowing with goodies and we never lacked for food to feed everyone. It distressed him that he was not "being a good host" but pleased him to be able to tell each one how much they meant to him.

Time went quickly and painfully slow at the same time. He realized that his time was near and it pained him to see those that cared about him suffer at the thought. His pain was great but his smile was still there, even through all the heavy drugs. 

Once he had passed, it hit me very hard that it had really happened. I still have a hard time believing it, even though I had known for months that it was inevitable. It surprised me more that I was still living. I know that's weird, but for whatever reason, I had thought that I would cease to exist without him.

The visitation, funeral, and "party" (his term) afterwards are kind of a blur. I saw so many folks I had not seen since I was a little girl. The love and support offered by so many still astounds me. 

The next day after the funeral I attended the wedding of my stepson. I got to witness such love all over again! It seemed fitting somehow. Things end, things begin...

Now I'm home in North Dakota. I feel fundamentally changed. I have not re-opened my online store. I have not gone through the stacks of paper. I have not cleaned my house. I have not created anything new. I haven't called the doctor about my still ailing hand. I haven't returned phone calls or written thank you notes. I haven't explained to the good people who have inquired about carrying my products that I'm...um, unavailable and why.

I have done everything wrong the last six weeks concerning getting a new business going. And it is ok. I feel every single thing more acutely. Good, bad, sorrow, happiness, love, guilt and joy, all are felt to my core. And I am not ready to let that go. Time will ease me back into myself. But for now, I'm slowing down, crying every day for happy reasons and sad, and letting myself simply feel... 

...eternally grateful,
Ms.b.haven

B.haven has her first birthday!

My little, tiny shop turned one earlier this month and I almost didn't notice! I'd like to say that it was because I was sooooo busy filling orders and creating artwork, but that simply isn't the case. No one wants to read about sadness and heartbreak over and over, so I'll spare you. Let's just say, my mind has been elsewhere. (click here if you REALLY want to know - WARNING: it's kind of heartbreaking)

The idea behind b.haven seemed simple: create fun stuff in my head, buy materials, make the stuff, sell the stuff and rejoice in being one of the lucky ones who gets to what she loves and make a living. I would use eco-responsible materials, never buy fabric from China, purchase as many things from local businesses as possible, make EVERYTHING by hand, and donate a good percentage of my profits to a different charity every month. I would work harder than anyone else ever has at something like this, and get better with every print. I would have wholesalers lining up for my splendid ideas and do a fair amount of custom work. I would make people smile...

Yes, I was naive. Yes, I knew that I was being naive, but until proven otherwise, I saw no reason to worry about what I didn't know. What I didn't know...wow, it was/is a crazy long list! I am not feeling sorry for myself here (usually a signal that one is about to feel sorry for themselves), but I do believe there are things you may want to know if you are contemplating doing something like this. Here's what I've learned:

• Taxes kill me. Of the money coming in, about 40% of that goes just for local, state and federal taxes. For example, I pay sales tax on the materials I need to make the things I sell. I sell those things, and then I pay sales tax on the things I've sold. Hmmm, that kind of sucks. 

• My prices are too low. Geez. I really wanted to make my work accessible to folks who may not have "extra" cash to spend on items that make them happy. While great in theory, I'm now struggling with low cash flow. Low cash flow (i.e. I have no money until I sell something) means I cannot afford to buy materials enough to solicit wholesalers, who typically buy in larger quantities. Plus, I am hard pressed to offer much in the way of a wholesale discount, because I'm at bare bones pricing as it is. (Insert the action of my slapping my forehead with my palm here.) I will never be able to sell my items for the same price as those items that are mass-produced or made in China. Why did I think I had to compete in that market, you ask? Because that is what you buy, silly pants! Think about it.

• I underestimated shipping costs. I HATE paying shipping when I purchase things online so I wanted to keep my shipping costs low. While yes, the shipping costs are accurate, they do not reflect the box, packing material, tape, and the time it takes for me to trek to the post office. I lose "profit" on nearly everything I ship. Especially if I send it overseas.

• I am the only one. Kind of funny that this was some big revelation, but you don't realize what that truly means until you are living it. If I don't do something, it does not get done. Things fall through the cracks (like buying toilet paper for the studio), and end up accumulating into a seemingly insurmountable mass of menial tasks. No, I would not rather take out the trash than draw, print, experiment, and produce, but who else will do it? If I forget a follow-up call, there is no one else to blame (geez, I hate that).

I still love creating the things I do. I love the fairs I've attended and the shops I've sold in. I do not love the business of the business. If I had my way, I would give away everything I make to anyone who likes it. Why, do I have so little value for my things, you ask? No, absolutely not. If I can brighten your day with what comes out of my head and hands, I'm crazy happy! 

So, a balance is needed. I've gone over my budget with a fine-toothed comb...uh, make that a fine-tipped pen, and it looks like I will have raise my prices a smidge. The only other major place I can trim costs is in taxes. I think I will request an itemized list of items that my tax dollars go for, and then cross off the things I don't want to contribute too. Think that will work?


Always learning the hard way,
Ms.b.haven

p.s. And yes, I am now grooming dogs a couple of days a week to make end's meet. There's no place for ego in entrepreneurship. :)

The Worst That Can Happen - a sad post

So you go about your day, paying bills, making dinner, worrying about things, etc. Then something happens. When "something" happens, I always envision the very worst, mentally prepare for it, and let it go, knowing I can handle it...with a few exceptions.

To me, the absolute Worst That Can Possibly Happen is seeing one of my loved ones struggle or in pain, knowing there is nothing I can do. This scrapes away all the daily b.s. and hits me right at my core. 

My daddy's cancer is trying to kill him, painfully and without any mercy. And there is nothing I can do about it. 

Those that know me well, know what my daddy means to me. He's a good man, a hard worker, pure of heart, and simple in his needs. If he can, he will help those that need it, and sometimes those that don't. He's a strong-willed man, but not overbearing in the slightest. He brings light and joy to those that have the pleasure to know him. The sheer amount of people that love him is overwhelming. He's been my model and mentor on how to live a good life -- one of strength, love, goodwill, and happiness. 

Now this evil thing, Cancer, is taking him away. Slowly, painfully, and without any consideration of how good he is. I'm helpless and heartbroken. Watching him struggle with the pain and realization that he may not be able to conquer this thing, is about to break me into little, tiny pieces, and causes me to wonder if I am truly as strong as I believed I was. I go back and forth between being overwhelmingly inspired at how many people truly love him -- a testament to a well-lived life -- and bitter with the thought that to Cancer, it simply doesn't matter. I struggle to find any measure of comfort and go from wanting to collect people that love me together and hear their kind words, and wanting to wall myself off in a dark, little hole and speak to absolutely no one. 

He sent me home and I know why. He doesn't want to be the cause of my pain, and knows that I need to get back to my daily routine in order to prove to myself that my life will go on, regardless. I'm not sure how I feel about it -- guilty or relieved? There IS nothing I can do but look at him and ask, "can I do anything?" if I were there, both of us knowing there isn't. Who wants to be looked at with eyes filled with pain all the time? I understand. 

My love for my father goes beyond blood. It's an honest respect, an admiration, a deeply felt gratitude that he has made me a better person, a stronger person, and one with instinctual and practiced goodness. 

It's insulting to me that life goes on, that bills have to be paid, that my young business needs attention to grow. I'm really trying to get past this resentment and care. Really. But you will have to forgive me if I'm lax in this area. I'm struggling in the most basic of ways. I'm simply heartbroken. 

Ms.b.haven

Training for Spring

Surprise Stadium, Kansas City Royals Spring Training, Surprise, AZ, 03/02/2013.
 And what's a game without peanut shells in your flipflops?

The Budweiser Clydesdales
were at the game!
They always make me happy.

My New Year's resolution of blogging more often has fallen away and I don't feel the slightest bit guilty about it. Sorry. I know I should, but geez, with the way things have been going lately, something had to give!

I went to Arizona this weekend. My hubby's job took him there last week. C (my beloved stepson) and I joined him on Friday to stay the weekend. A more perfect weekend could not have been planned. The weather was gorgeous, the actual trip there uneventful. And as those of you who have traveled to/from North Dakota in the winter, that was a true miracle! 

We only had two days but we managed to do most of my all-time favorite springtime things - spring training with the KC Royals (they won) and going to the racetrack (I won). A bunch of hubby's family from Kansas, Missouri, Washington, and California were there too, making the trip even better. 

And then it was over. Landing in Bismarck did not disappoint by being the polar (ha!) opposite of Phoenix - snow, wind, and cold. All the issues I had left here, were STILL here and my crankiness returned. And then I looked around with the same eyes I had viewed the newness and beauty of the desert with. And saw beauty.

Not the same beauty, but beauty, nonetheless. The issues I had left now have fresh eyes, and my heart KNOWS the sun still exists and will show up when she's ready. My feet still know how to wear flipflops, my eyes can still see when the sun is out for the entire day. I can still function with a single layer of clothing. My lethargy and depression can be wiped away simply by changing my outlook and refocusing on the beauty and good of my life, rather than the seemingly insurmountable problems that I tend to create in my head. 

Some say that a spring trip can make the winter seem longer. I say that whatever you need to do to recharge yourself, should be done whenever and wherever possible. 

Spring is coming, people! I feel it!
Ms.b.haven

Square glasses and side ponytails

My name is Sharon Higley, and I am not a hipster.

There, I said it. It's out there. Everyone knows. I've come clean. I should feel better. But...

So, I've been dealing with chronic self-doubt, anxiety, and general malaise. This happens to all creative types from time to time. For me, it is usually triggered by things totally unrelated to creativity. Tax time seems to be my trigger. The sheer amount of effort involved in my being financially organized is enough to totally defeat me. It starts there and begins a downward spiral into self-pity ending in the realization that I'm not a hipster. Let me explain.

I went to a gathering recently of hipsters, in a similar business as me. I look around and immediately start comparing myself to them. I do not wear square glasses or dress in super-cool vintage clothing. I do not, or will not, wear a side ponytail with artfully blunted bangs. I do not carry a self-created/embellished handbag, nor do I use hipster language, of which I would provide an example but I am so unfamiliar with the slang, I can not. 

Comparing oneself to others is always a bad idea. One cannot know the life of another with enough familiarity to be able to judge them against oneself with any sort of accuracy. I know this. Yet, it is entirely human to do so. These feelings are all too familiar as I have done this my entire life, resulting in making myself acutely aware of...well, myself. 

In high school, I was not particularly athletic, popular, or good at much. I thought drastically differently than pretty much everyone I knew, and it was unsettling. I faded into the background by choice, 'knowing' that I was not really worthy of attention. In college, my artistic ability wasn't particularly outstanding, and my finances would not allow me to dress as I wanted, or dye my hair interesting colors, or go to shows of bands with names no one had ever heard of. As art students, we were required to show EVERYTHING to EVERYBODY and provide ourselves to be ripped up by peer critique. You were constantly compared to your peers as a way of inciting improvement. Right out of school in my chosen profession, it was standard procedure to be compared to and compete with others for the "right" to be able to produce your ideas. That required that you possess a certain flair, naturally or faked, for talking yourself and your ideas up. You HAD to stand out in order to be considered worthy. Always 'knowing' in the back of your mind that you did quite measure up -- someone was ALWAYS better. I believe that is why most graphic designers are in their 20s-30s. You get tired after a while and move into management. Ha.

I made the decision in my later 30s that I was done with that whole thing. I was me, and that was fine. I stopped trying so hard to be different and relaxed in who I was. It was a freeing choice. I stopped this constant comparing of where I was in my career, how my artwork measured up, and whether I was presenting a hipster-enough outward appearance. I became happy with me. I stopped trying to put a label on who I was or what I did. I focused on being a good person, bringing happiness if it was in my power to do so, and making decisions that were responsible, fun, and right for me.

But, every now and then, that old habit comes back. Kind of like when you stopped smoking years ago and decided that one wouldn't hurt, just this once. That first inhale is familiar, a bit comforting, and then disgusting. You make a choice after that first puff -- take up the nasty habit again, or stop and be healthy.

So, I've taken these last few weeks to restart. To stop and be healthy. To remember that I am me and that is ok. My creativity is slowly coming back, not nearly fast enough, but still, I feel the progress. 

Still not a hipster but ok with that,
Ms.b.haven