Home by Christina Osheim

I haven’t been to a meeting in a week. And everything has been fine and good and really ok. I’m just getting home after a meeting at my home group and I feel a contentment and roundness that I had missed and didn’t even realize I missed until at a meeting. 

I am 2 classes away from getting my 150 stronger for this goal at jazzercize. I have 2 days until I pay 1/3 of the fee for NY NOW. I have 2 days until my first session as a sober teacher wraps up. Things come in 3’s and holy hell this is a good 3!  

I don’t know how it will all work out, but it will. My life will continue to change and evolve and me along with it. So this pooped puppy is going to emulate her quirky pup niece hobbit and veg on the couch for a bit and watch Thor. 🙌 



And the c’s back in cville by Christina Osheim

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. But mostly it was the best. The ways that the show was not good were not unexpected. And the ways it was good were unexpected in an awesome way. I won’t go back, but am glad this was the last, or last for a while. Ie glad I went. And so so so glad to have spent time with my family. 

There is such a joy of seeing how your family matures like everything else. Speaking only for myself I know that I am no longer fighting kicking and screaming to shout this is my identity! I have more of an acceptance, resigned at times, that this is how I was made. 

And so it was lovely. I suspect we were all tired as we were all meeting after 3 different journeys. (my bro and sis in law had been traveling and arrived back after I’d already happily settled into their warm apartment)  and staying in and eating take out/delivery and playing with hobbit and games and just being was perfect  for all parties. 

I am currently sitting in a Starbucks having a quick break before taking care of a friends two kids. They are such fun to hang out with! I wonder what adventures we will get up to. Build a fort? Make a spinny air toy? Be talked into giving them candy? Whooooo knows?!? But it will be fun. And then fun to be back home and getting started on Möbius K’s next mission: learning how to weave on the loom of the retail inter web and how to get stores to want to do it for me! 

Stage One retail adventure: large retail shows ✅  

Stage Two: The two Ws— web & wholesale




Art Fairs are Dead by Christina Osheim

That is the truth. To make or not to make is the question. 

it is infuriating for me. I got sober, accepted that I had to completely change my life, and finally got the courage to be me (at least most of the time) and pursue my dream. 

and the kicker is. I am good. I am quite talented and intellectual. It comes through in how I make and approach and talk. 

and the mother fucking art fairs that have supported many artists are a dying breed. They are gasping for air. Awaiting cpr and the paddles.  

And I feel as if I went through that in getting sober. The paddles the life or death and now it’s repeated?!?!? With my true love that keeps me sober ?!?!? God, or HP, you have one sick sense of humor.

This is the question that continually repeats itself. Am I good enough? Is my work good enough? Am I prepared for having it take off, if it were to? Am I a delusional lunatic?  

Is it true, if you build it they will come? If they have they are just ghosts! Or is it the if a tree falls in a forest and no one is there does it make a sound? My work could be the tree falling and no one is there who wants to reap the glory of this very special breed of tree? The fairs are empty of my demographic. So my work has not been recognized as it should??

Now I am just confusing myself. It was recognized in the PR aspect. people love the postcard and want it. But no one wants to actually buy my reasonably priced work. What the fuck???? Seriously, what the fuck?  

I have heard so often “I’m just making the rounds” which I have come to understand as like it, but no well enough to part with any money.  

It is so hard to not become a judgemental lady and say “these people can’t recognize the value of quality work that pushes back a little. Are people that scared of not being normal???” And the answer is probably yes. As I became/embraced my alcoholism to deal with my inability to be “normal.”

Right now it is 3:33 and when I lived here I was at 333 Morris. I remember my roommate saying he liked that it was 333 because 333 is half of 666.