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  • a happy, ordinary, middle-aged, suburban woman who paints odd pictures, gardens in a straw hat, lives with the love of her life, is owned by one cat and the ghosts of several others, and walks a little funny 'cause she has a fake leg. She started this website because there's more to life than what we lose, and we need to let each other know what's possible, even if it's only a happy, ordinary life.

November 2011

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  • E-mail me at:

    sara at saraarts dot com

    Make sure the subject line of your correspondence is clear and specific. I do not open e-mails from strangers unless I can tell in advance that I want to read them.

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  • I Took The Handmade Pledge!

Good reads, grownups only

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Awww, again! Two days in a row! Your mom was a sweetheart to do that for you. I wish we'd saved Floppy, my stuffed dog - floppy and floppier as the years passed. But I also had an extreme attachment to my pillow, which I had plans to take with me in the event of a fire. Because I thought about things like that.


This is just so beautiful. An Alfred hug of a post.

kathy a.

oh, alfred. such a fine pig.

may co. was the department store for me, too, growing up in so. cal. alas, it has been eaten by macy*s.


I had a much-loved glove puppet, made by a neighbour. Not only do I no longer have him but, much worse, I told him all my secrets in bed at night. My big fear is that one of my enemies has got hold of him and will either ransom him or use his secret knowledge to blackmail me.


That was so lovely. I have a doll named Suzie just like that. She's had several replacement bodies sewed up for her, and even a replacement wig when my family got embarrassed by her wild hair even though I felt that was going too far. I have a blanket I was given at birth too. It's named old furry.

Thank you for reminding me about the sort of love that patches and patches up old dolls. Thank you for reminding me about families window shopping together. Your writing really is beautiful.

Michelle | Bleeding Espresso

Aw. Warm fuzzies! Sorry I wasn't here to cause you performance anxiety about feeling better last week, but I do hope you're performing well now. Does that make sense? I'm tired. Off to cuddle puppies.


My uncle, the airline pilot, brought me back a kangaroo from Australia. I was two but I insist that I remember the moment that he held it up in front of me (I loved him very, very much and had been jealous of the lei he'd brought back for my aunt, his girlfriend, from Hawaii). I named her Skippy (after the TV show, "Skippy the Bush Kangaroo") and like your Alfred has been loved hard, mended and reupholstered so many times she is unrecognizable. She lives in my closet and I will never give her up. She has been mine for more than 40 years. My aunt and uncle both died of cancer within a few months of each other, in my early teens. I still miss them.
Thanks for this story.


Hi there! As I remember, Alfred has through the years added significant commentary to our lives about items that you would stray away from. I was on the receiving end more than once to "...Alfred says..." He also stayed with me when I was recovering from lung surgery and I was in need of some TLC that only Alfred and William could provide. I have been informed on many occasion that Alfred may outlive us all. Hope that your day after thanksgiving was better than the one that I had. We managed to give GM a $425 investment to have a defective window motor replaced.

Did you want to start a blog about whether or not the Government should bail out a set of corporations so we can repeat the process at a later time.

We had out first snow overnight and it was a dark and stormy night that would have been handled by a hug from Alfred. Have a good day, Love your big brother.


Two things:
May Co. was indeed a great store. It was first bought out by Robinsons, becoming Robinsons-May, then was entirely engulfed by that ever-hungry bane of independent retail, Macy's (It also bought out that beloved mainstay of Washington state, the Bon Marche. Wankers!).

I still have Waggy, the little stuffed dog I got as a baby. He used to play Where, oh where has my little dog gone? Where, oh where can he beeeee? and wag his tail in time to the tune. Let's see - I barfed on his a couple of times, pulled off his eyes, and broke his tail so it didn't wag anymore. In a testament to 1950's manufacturing integrity, his little music box finally gave up the ghost only a few years ago. He has moved house with me six times and is probably my oldest possession. He's coming with me, wherever I go.

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