Dottie Angel I am not.
In particularly weak moments, I dream that life as Dottie Angel is more perfectly perfect than life as "Joyce, spinner of many plates". From my teensey jaunts to her blog and her ETSY shop I know that love her, though we've never met. And, so, I'll not envy her, nor begrudge her thrifty, arty successes. Besides. What sort of person would I be if I indulged in jealousy with a like-minded soul who "likes to spend her days wisely treading the righteous and goodly path of handcrafted and secondhand"?
dottie angel do's
But meanwhile, in my very real and present land of plate-spinning, I feel that familiar panic setting in. That frightened inner voice who rebels against the "dos" of peachy Dottie Angel-ness. The voice that fears all my best ideas have been spent and there's nothing left. Nothing at all.
I have a dealine. And I must create. Hence the fear.
There's a familiar pattern to all of this, so I'm not as scared as I was the first billion and one times. It'll start with some bad dreams with the theme of being unprepared. Then I'll plan to start getting up earlier to do some stitching, but I won't because I'm tired. Then the mounds will start to grow: stacks of cottony goodness on the table, the chairs, the sewing table, the floor, the office, the "living room". And in the two and three minute gaps between filling cups and dashing small people to the parks, I'll pair together incongruent bits. My evenings will stretch a little longer, my Saturdays will begin a little earlier. And I'll start to feel the joy, anticipation, excitement of another summer fair.
This year, at the Morden Corn and Apple Festival in Morden, Manitoba. August 23 to 25.
Hope to see you there!