Tuesday, Jan. 15, 2008 - 6:40 p.m.

This evening my Swahili conversation pal told me that her new housemate, a young man who works at the gallery here where my stuff sells best (yes, the Perambulating Chelonian), was trying to make jewelry out of paper. "Oh!' She said, "My friend makes paper jewelry!". "Yes," he said, "Linguafranca. I'm trying to figure out how she does it."

Not sure how I feel about that. Actually, I am: simultaneously flattered and threatened. My friend assures me that he is largely incompetent, and advises the flattered interpretation. I guess I'll go with that. I suppose it happens, and will happen more once my necklace gets printed in that book next summer. And after all, I learned a lot that way myself, so I shouldn't hold it against someone else. And I'm pretty sure no one can do EXACTLY what I do, so. Still, part of me is like, "step off, dude!". Once I'm wildly successful and nationally renowned, I suppose I'll feel less threatened, but until then, well.

Dropped some things off at the Art Council gift shop, where things sold well for me during the holidays. Ended up just leaving 8 pieces with the volunteer there because she didn't know how to do the paperwork. I'm hoping that wasn't a mistake. It probably was.

At least the process of picking out 8 things to leave reminded me of how my selection is really in a pared down state. If someone WANTED to buy 12 pairs of earrings from me now, I wouldn't have a great selection for them. Motivation, motivation.

�