When not wiping noses or cursing nap-time-door-bell-ringers, I’ve begun using my free time to wisely peruse Etsy. The addiction began innocently enough. I’m doing an on-line art class with my girls, and the artist in charge has an Etsy shop. Cute stuff, you can find it here. But, like car wrecks and Johnny Depp movies, one look led to another, which led to another...
Some sites I enjoy, like this one that appears to just be a Canadian girl with her markers. Fun. But some? Like this one. What Warhol-would-be needs a planter shaped like a dinosaur? Oh, sure, put the prickly cactus in the dinosaurs back and watch all the kids run screaming for Mommy. “I was just attacking the Diplodocus with the Ichthyosaur when the needles poked me.” Is it a toy? Is it a plant? I need a clear separation between my vegetation and the things that get thrown to the basement when guests are expected.
I also had no idea that so much could be done with felt. You may be getting some of these for Christmas.
And, like Ebay, watch out for the “vintage”. That’s just internet speak for “I found it in my garage and thought I’d sucker someone out of $50.” Olive green boots from the 1970’s? Do I need to say more than “1970?”
You can also buy enough vinyl to cover your entire house with pithy--or not so pithy--sayings. That’s actually a great idea because then you don’t have to have books in your house. You can tell your kids to just go read the walls. If your husband is like mine, though, you may find the words rearranged to have a completely different meaning. I have some wooden blocks that spell “FAMILY”. He rearranged them to say “I Am Fly.” Which is even funnier, given the cottage look of the blocks, the completely suburban house in which they reside, and the uber-white person they were supposed to describe.
I might open an Etsy shop. It’s spring cleaning time, and I’m just itching to get my hands on the middens my children call “bedrooms.”