Archive for September, 2005


Sound FX suck (or, why I wish I was deaf)

September 14, 2005

I have 2 sons. This was always what I wanted because I’m terrified at the thought of raising a girl. So, two beautiful boys that I love and cherish. Two boys who fill my heart with such love, my life with such laughter. Two boys who make me glad I’m alive. And who, quite frequently, make me want to stab ice picks into my ears.

It has been slowly creeping up on me, but it has finally hit with full, unrelenting, torturous force – my children have become full time sound effects machines.

From before I open my eyes until I blissfully close their bedroom door at night, I’m assualted by pops, hisses, spits, and assorted Thhhhhhhhhhhhhhhtttttttttttts, phhhhffffffffttttttttttts, bshewwwwwwwws, and shhhhhooots.

I’m telling you, it drives me up the fucking wall.

Ooooooooooom booooooooooop.



I got it, now what?

September 13, 2005

Yesterday I started writing a post entitled Black Sheep which pretty much dealt with the fact that every family has a black sheep and, in my family, it would be me. What has become clear to me, though, is that there’s a bigger picture, a bigger issue, on the forefront of my mind and it has sprinkled it’s flavor on every aspect of my life. This issue has touched my black wool and my businesses, my friendships and relationships, my marriage, my intellect, my social passion. It lays out in front of me like a freshman at an afterbar – passed out, inconvenient, and insistent on tripping me up:

Be careful what you wish for – you might just get it.

When I was much younger, I never had moments of wanting to grow up to be “just like” anyone. Yes, it’s true, that I once wrote a letter to my sister saying that I wanted to be like her when I grew up, but see, I still wanted to be ME. I have never really patterned myself after anyone, although I have been influenced by many. I’m very much a “little of column A, a little of column B” woman. I have a sprinkle of this, a dash of that, a heaping tablespoon of xyz, etc., blended in with my own individuality that makes me what I am. But, as a result, I see that I’ve become something almost unrecognizable in comparison to my family members. I spent the better part of the weekend with my extended family (sister and her family, brother and his wife, mother and her husband) in varying forms and combinations. While I was so happy to see them all, I honestly felt as though I didn’t belong. That’s a hard feeling to have amongst your own blood. They all like the same music – except me. They all like the same TV shows – except me (I’ve never even seen most of the shows they rave about, nor do I care to.) They all watch the same sport (if you can call it that) on TV – except me. They eat the same foods, drink the same beer, laugh at the same jokes, read the same magazines – except me. We sit at dinner and I have almost nothing – NOTHING – to add to the conversation. Of course, I will admit that most of the things they are passionate about do not interest me in the slightest. And, of course I know that my passions don’t interest them a lick. I don’t hold that against them and I hope they don’t hold my disinterest against me. I’m different than them. I am the black sheep of the family. I love myself and who I am and what I do and all that I’m passionate about. I wouldn’t want to change myself. It’s distancing, though, sometimes – having nothing to contribute to the conversation and knowing that no one would care to contribute to any conversation that I might start. I wanted to be an original. I wanted to be an individual. I wanted to be independent. I wanted to be unique. I wanted to stand apart. And I have accomplished all of those things. Now what?

I have always dreamed of helping women in birth. I have known for nearly all my life that birthwork is what I am on this planet to do. I have worked hard and studied and practiced and researched and learned. I have made professional connections and can move comfortably around the L&D department of any given hospital, I am relatively well known amongst the homebirth and free standing birth center community in our area. I can tell you when the baby is getting close just by the smell in the room, when the “birth mojo” is heavy and thick. I can, with fairly accurate results, tell how much a woman is dilated by the sounds she is making. I am a doula and I’m good at it. I wanted to be busy. I wanted to attend a lot of births. I wanted to be well known. And now I am. I am so busy that I forget clients from the past and forget the names of the clients I have now. I’m so busy that I, along with my wonderful business partner (shout out, DDFF,) have turned a few potential clients down lately because we’re too booked. This is what I wanted. Now, when the phone rings, I give Elvis a holler and ask that it’s not a client in labor because I just want to sleep. And then there are days when I beg for a client to call in labor so I can mark one off the calendar. I got what I wanted. Now what?

I love making bags and other fiber arts. Bags, hats, scarves, ponchos, you name it. I dreamed of folks contacting me and asking me to make them one of a kind bags and such and then getting paid to do it. I dreamed of being known as a fiber artist. I have been so blessed to have folks promote Kohleidoscope for me – and now, folks are calling. Folks are emailing. Folks are stopping me in diners and bookstores asking me if I’m “the Sarah that makes those amazing bags?!?!?!?” And I smile and say, “Yep, that would be me.” And then, like right now, I freak out about how much people want from me, what they expect from me, “What do you mean you don’t have a large inventory and that you prefer to custom make them?,” “What do you mean you don’t have a store?,” “What do you mean you won’t cut me a deal – don’t you know that I’m your second cousin’s old college roommate’s veterinarian’s hairstylist??” I got what I wanted – now what?

I’ve always believed that what you put out into the world returns to you. I have always believed that if you ask for something and live in the way that would support what you want, it will come to you. I have always believed that if you live the life of an artist, you will walk in art, that if you issue forth dreams and desires and passion, you will be filled to the brim with those same rewards. And I guess it’s my time to cash in.

From my Black Sheep status, I have learned that there’s 2 types of family: the type you are born into and the type you birth around you. The family that I was born into might not share my passions for life, my political voice, my love of art and creation, my eclectic taste in music and literature. But they share my blood, my DNA, my lineage. I will love them, and they will love me, until the end of time. While we may not agree on much, we are connected. Because of them and the roots that they have given me, I’ve become the type of woman who has given birth to my own family. I have chosen a man with whom to share every one of my days – a man who is my best friend, my devil’s advocate, my partner in crime. We, in turn, have given birth to two children who are just about the coolest little people I’ve ever known and I would want to spend time with them, even if we weren’t related. Because of my strong roots that I know will support me regardless of my lot in life, I have been able to choose a multitude of people who started out as my friends and are now my family of the heart. My girlfriends who love me and let me love them, who will tell me that I’m out of my mind, who will knock me off my high horse when I need it, and who will throw a parade in my honor if I need it, regardless of whether or not I deserve it. I have men friends who want NOTHING at all from my body, but they want everything from my mind. I have friends who are in their 80’s and friends who are 8. And they all are my family – and there are no black sheep.

As a doula, I have been blessed to see many many people take their first breaths of air and many people take their first breaths as parents. I have learned that life doesn’t always go as planned and that sometimes it can go awry before it can really truly start – but I’ve also seen and learned that imperfections don’t exist at all through the eyes of love. I’ve learned to fall asleep anywhere at any time because, frankly, I don’t know when I’ll get the chance again. I’ve learned that often times doing nothing at all is more powerful than doing everything you can. I’ve learned that scheduling is essential – and so is time without a plan. I’ve learned that I know more than I acknowledge and, with that knowledge, comes the awareness that there’s always so much more to know.

Kohleidoscope has taught me that I am an artist and that I need to treat myself as such. I have learned that I am blessed to be creative and have an eye and a hand for fibers. I have learned how to say, “Yes, I am charging $100 for that bag,” “No you cannot come to my house to look at samples,” and, “It’s going to take a few weeks for me to get to your order – I have to eat and sleep sometime.” I have learned that a beautiful bag can make anyone feel gorgeous. I have learned that good wool is worth the price and that schwag acrylic is not. I have learned that a discount isn’t a discount if it’s loaded with resentment.

I’ve gotten so much out of all my facets. Not a stone has been left unturned, no area left unexplored. I’m spread out like a huge quilt of influences and lives. I’m but a single fiber in the rich tapestry of life.

So, now what? It doesn’t matter because, I guess, most of all, I’ve got the knowledge and security to know that not knowing what comes next is okay.


Color Wheel 

September 7, 2005

Color Wheel Posted by Picasa


Mad Hatter and Scarf 

September 7, 2005

Mad Hatter and Scarf Posted by Picasa



September 7, 2005

Sharp! Posted by Picasa


fine art 

September 6, 2005

fine art Posted by Picasa


Listen up, Monkey. Listen up.

September 6, 2005

Aaron Broussard, president of Jefferson Parish
“So I’m asking Congress, please investigate this now. Take whatever idiot they have at the top of whatever agency and give me a better idiot. Give me a caring idiot. Give me a sensitive idiot. Just don’t give me the same idiot.”
Aaron Broussard, president of Jefferson Parish