First day of spring

I finished embroidering Joe's valentine. I'm not sure if I'll frame it as it is or combine with other things into a collage-like shadow box.

The two felt pears are going up on Etsy for a measly $12 a pop. I am still making the new samples with the acrylic felt (these are wool felt) so that I can go around to stores to see if there will be any takers. I've been slacking off due to indulging in making stuff for myself and my family lately.


I had to show this photo from last night. We made pizza for dinner and I was too tired to wrap up the left overs (usually I do this while Joe does dishes) so Joe offered to do it for me. When I saw how much tin foil he set out I couldn't stop laughing and had to grab my camera. As you can see on the side of the photo he was trying to block the camera.

It was a great release to end the day in laughter. In the morning I found out that my father's best friend and photo assistant was found dead in his apartment. He had been like a member of the family since I was twelve years old and I still don't really believe it is real. I just saw him a few weeks ago. It's a difficult to death to deal with not only because Joseph was only in his mid-forties, vibrant, handsome, and talented, but because we had spent the last year being angry with him. He claimed to have developed manic-depression and he was not taking care of himself. He would not answer his phone for days and then show up at my father's loft and stay for weeks on end, talking incessantly and not doing what needed to be done to keep the business going. He lost long-time clients of my father's by forgetting important tasks, and no matter how many times my father asked him if he was using drugs he denied, denied, and denied. When I last saw him he was so gaunt that I was almost afraid that Harlan would be frightened of him. His eyes were sunken and his teeth looked rotten. I wanted to pull him aside and ask him if I could do anything to help but I didn't want to hurt his feelings by making any assumptions. The friend who found his body told my father that Joseph had been taking crystal meth for a while now but didn't want anyone to know. It's a mystery to me why anyone who had so much going for him would take up something so self-destructive in their forties.
I apologize for writing such a bummer post in what is supposed to be a craft-blog, but I keep this blog for myself primarily, so please forgive me if this is just too much.