My church is hosting a Christmas sale at the end of November, and my sister-in-law and I are sharing a table. I've never seriously considered selling my crochet, so I'm nervous and excited. Maybe if the sale goes well then I could start supplementing our income on a regular basis.
But in the process of creating an inventory, I have run into a personal dilemma: how much should I charge? I had an initial thought, but began to question it. How can someone reasonably price homemade items? Looking for help I browsed Etsy's crocheted offerings, but came away dissatisfied. The majority have priced items ridiculously high, at least in my opinion. But is that simply because I would rather buy the yarn and make it myself?
I guess the real question is: What am I (my time) worth?
Looking for some guidance, I asked the advice of a friend who is in the craft business. Her suggested guidelines boosted my confidence in my original price. It feels right, as it did before I started second-guessing myself.
21 July 2011
jumbled thoughts
I've been trying to figure out how to write this post for hours. I don't want to let too much of my geek out, but at the same time it's really been affecting me today. I guess I'll just go for it. Anyone who knows me is well aware of my geekier tendencies anyway.
I was raised on Star Trek. There was some good old Captain Kirk mixed in, but mostly it was The Next Generation ("the one with the bald guy" in Kim's understanding; I'm slowly working with him on that). Later Voyager would play a role, but when I think of Star Trek I first think of Captain Picard and his crew.
So when I learned a couple weeks ago that Star Trek, The Next Generation (TNG), and Voyager are now on instant streaming with Netflix, I naturally began making my way through TNG.
Most of the episodes I haven't seen since I was very young, and I've realized I remember surprisingly little: the feel of situations, small character impressions, and random facts for which I can't give solid evidence to. Then there are two episodes that fill me with dread.
Most mysteriously (until recently), "Skin of Evil": I have always loved Tasha Yar, but up until that first week of instant streaming I had no clue why. She was simply a name, but I felt a deep sadness and grief when remembering her death - the only thing I actually remember about her from my childhood. Now I can completely understand the attraction that character held for me. Her loss stings just as much as the emptiness I experienced losing Data in the movie Nemesis; the only difference is that I could understand Data's sacrifice, while Tasha's death was meaningless.
The other, unsurprisingly, is the first part of "Best of Both Worlds". Locutus of Borg is, at least in my estimation, the best twist in television history. (Admittedly, nostalgia may have something to do with this.) The complete horror I felt when I was first introduced to him is something I will never be able to completely shake off. It wasn't just due to the fact that he is Borg, either. It was the devastation of losing a beloved hero. It is the episode I remember most clearly, though my child's mind had muted out concepts I could not understand: the initial struggle between Riker and Shelby, the thousands of deaths Locutus was responsible for.
The latter has been on my mind all day. I'm not even sure I can correctly express what all I am thinking and feeling: good vs. evil, technology unchecked, morality, fear, the essentials of humanity, a child's memories, purpose, people who fight evil against all odds (otherwise known as heroes)... All jumbled up into a big knot. Impossible to unravel one strand without bringing all the others because everything is connected.
I was raised on Star Trek. There was some good old Captain Kirk mixed in, but mostly it was The Next Generation ("the one with the bald guy" in Kim's understanding; I'm slowly working with him on that). Later Voyager would play a role, but when I think of Star Trek I first think of Captain Picard and his crew.
So when I learned a couple weeks ago that Star Trek, The Next Generation (TNG), and Voyager are now on instant streaming with Netflix, I naturally began making my way through TNG.
Most of the episodes I haven't seen since I was very young, and I've realized I remember surprisingly little: the feel of situations, small character impressions, and random facts for which I can't give solid evidence to. Then there are two episodes that fill me with dread.
Most mysteriously (until recently), "Skin of Evil": I have always loved Tasha Yar, but up until that first week of instant streaming I had no clue why. She was simply a name, but I felt a deep sadness and grief when remembering her death - the only thing I actually remember about her from my childhood. Now I can completely understand the attraction that character held for me. Her loss stings just as much as the emptiness I experienced losing Data in the movie Nemesis; the only difference is that I could understand Data's sacrifice, while Tasha's death was meaningless.
The other, unsurprisingly, is the first part of "Best of Both Worlds". Locutus of Borg is, at least in my estimation, the best twist in television history. (Admittedly, nostalgia may have something to do with this.) The complete horror I felt when I was first introduced to him is something I will never be able to completely shake off. It wasn't just due to the fact that he is Borg, either. It was the devastation of losing a beloved hero. It is the episode I remember most clearly, though my child's mind had muted out concepts I could not understand: the initial struggle between Riker and Shelby, the thousands of deaths Locutus was responsible for.
The latter has been on my mind all day. I'm not even sure I can correctly express what all I am thinking and feeling: good vs. evil, technology unchecked, morality, fear, the essentials of humanity, a child's memories, purpose, people who fight evil against all odds (otherwise known as heroes)... All jumbled up into a big knot. Impossible to unravel one strand without bringing all the others because everything is connected.
17 July 2011
peekaboo
The day a baby realizes the fun in peekaboo is an amazing day. An incredible feeling that takes place when your efforts are rewarded with more than a blank stare. Not even having three kids can diminish the delight.
It isn't just about easily winning a precious smile or chuckle, though that is certainly a nice perk. It's about witnessing one of the first recognizable signs of maturity. It's about being able to really start interacting with your baby.
Glorious.
It isn't just about easily winning a precious smile or chuckle, though that is certainly a nice perk. It's about witnessing one of the first recognizable signs of maturity. It's about being able to really start interacting with your baby.
Glorious.
oh yeah, I have a blog
Previously I have cursed my forgetfulness, and sometimes I still do: like today when I lost my keys while we were running very late. But lately I have begun to seriously impress myself.
Yonah recently had dental surgery to repair the extensive damage in his mouth. I very carefully and deliberately filed every single piece of paper regarding it in our important papers box. Not a single one remained where I put it, and I know beyond any doubt that no children were able to get into the box. Only the non-important ones have surfaced.
A few weeks ago I managed to lose my computer. Granted, it is only a laptop, but I use it every single day. (When it's working, that is. Right now a friend is convincing it to function after Arabelle gave it a bath.)
I completely forgot that I have a blog. If Google+ hadn't randomly reminded me about it, I still would be blissfully unaware.
I have started mandatory child counting before entering or leaving anything: car, house, building, park, whatever. With my growing skills I just can't be too careful. I dread the days when their friends start tagging along.
Yonah recently had dental surgery to repair the extensive damage in his mouth. I very carefully and deliberately filed every single piece of paper regarding it in our important papers box. Not a single one remained where I put it, and I know beyond any doubt that no children were able to get into the box. Only the non-important ones have surfaced.
A few weeks ago I managed to lose my computer. Granted, it is only a laptop, but I use it every single day. (When it's working, that is. Right now a friend is convincing it to function after Arabelle gave it a bath.)
I completely forgot that I have a blog. If Google+ hadn't randomly reminded me about it, I still would be blissfully unaware.
I have started mandatory child counting before entering or leaving anything: car, house, building, park, whatever. With my growing skills I just can't be too careful. I dread the days when their friends start tagging along.
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