ENJOYING THE RIDE

My dad started his own business when I was nine years old. It was called Northwest Testing Company and since its humble beginnings in a small shop in North Idaho it has since expanded (along with a name change) to five locations (I think it's five?) and a welding school. 

Being the daughter of a business owner I was exposed to the frustrations of handling rogue employees, dealing with clients who were not-so-nice and sorting out scheduling conflicts among a myriad of other situations that come with owning a business. And I remember telling my dad that I never wanted to own my own business because I didn't want to have to deal with all of that responsibility. 

I am a person who likes to have as little responsibility as possible, if we're being honest. I am so not a typical first born child in that respect. I would much rather have someone else be in charge, but let me be second in command or something. I mean, I do like to be bossy sometimes. 

And yet here I am, eating the words of nine year old Natalie and contemplating starting my own business. But unlike my father's LLC, this is just for me. Me and my artwork. 

I was contacted by an old family friend to do some commercial art for a local business. I happily accepted the position as a way to get paid for art and also to get my name out there as a local artist. I mean, breaking into the art world is not as easy as you might think, so I practically jumped at the chance to get to work with The Wellness Bar. Since then, I have taught a class there, worked on the coffee menu (which will be finished sometime this week) and contacted the owner of a nail salon to do some chalkboard art for her. 

Walking into her shop today, she gave me her business card and since I am lame and without my own little info cards, I had to have her write down my name and number on some yellow pad paper. Suuuuuuuper professional. And then I went home and called my mom about getting some business cards and maybe it would be a good idea for me to keep track of what all these people are paying me for my talents. 

This is starting to sound like a business. I'm starting to do something I said I didn't want to do. This is a crazy world we live in, folks. And I think the even crazier part is that I'm actually excited about it. If this could turn into something bigger, it would make working at the restaurant supplemental income instead of the other way around. 

In college, even though I majored in art education, being a teacher was the part I tacked on so that I could pay the bills. I went through the college of art and architecture instead of the college of education so that I could be an artist who teaches, not a teacher of art. And while I do love teaching, I am definitely more artist than teacher. 

So it kind of hurts me in the world of education that I'm only certified in art because it makes me less marketable than some places would like. But in the world of art, it's a fantastic thing because I don't just do one type of art, I have worked with many different mediums and in many different styles so where in one world I'm singular, in the other I am versatile. 

At 23 I was a full time teacher, which is crazy. I mean, I was in charge of and responsible for the artistic education of high school students. This year, at 24, I am a restaurant hostess and manager who freelances artwork on the side. It's crazy how fast life can change and it's also crazy that life never goes exactly how you think it will. You just have to hang on and learn to enjoy the ride. 

And just so you can fully appreciate my experience as a nine year old entrepreneur's daughter, here I am slaving away for free. 

Okay, so it was actually for a science project in fourth grade, whatever whatever. 

Also, a close up of the first image. Please to appreciate our 90s fashions and the fact that I am still the tallest of all of my siblings, which is no longer the case since they've all passed me up. 

SPRING BREAK PART ONE

Is it just me or did April 2014 get here alarmingly fast? I feel like just yesterday Nathan kissed me a happy New Year in the parking lot and now here we are! The middle of Spring Break! I usually go somewhere pretty cool for my spring breaks...like San Diego and Phoenix. Last year I went to Houston. This year I just stayed in Idaho, though.

Not a bad gig, since I get to hang out with that Nathan kid all week. It's pretty rad stuff.

He has been going to school and doing homework and playing Elder Scrolls Online (because he is the nerdiest). So basically what that means is I have been watching a borderline inappropriate amount of Disney movies. The old good ones. On VHS. OH YES.

I started with Lilo and Stitch (which was on Netflix, not VHS. I KNOW.) But that was just the beginning. Nathan has this closet in his dungeon basement full of old video cassettes. I was in elementary school Natalie's heaven in that closet.

After some Lilo, it was time for The Lion King. And you guys, this is how I know that Nathan is the perfect guy for me. Okay, we are having a conversation about something that I don't remember and I asked him a question and he answers through closed teeth "I'll show you when we get there." And if you don't understand why that is such a great thing, go watch the Lion King. Like, rightnowthissecond. I'm pretty sure we both sang along to all of the songs in this movie.

Then I put in 101 Dalmatians. Now, I love me some 101 Dalmatians. It was my absolute FAVORITE Disney movie when I was younger. I had Dalmatian sheets, a Dalmatian birthday cake, a Dalmatian quillow, Dalmatian stuffed animals, and I watched that movie probably six times a day. You only wish I was exaggerating. And while we're watching this movie and picking up on the adult humor you never catch as a child, Nathan remarks "This movie is so much better now!" (I tell you. This guy. He is constantly scoring all sorts of points with me. Will he ever stop being cool?)

When the Dalmatians had all been rescued, I put in Charlotte's Web. I used to walk around the house pretending that I was Fern. I'd say things like "Mama, where's Papa going with that axe?" And I would bring in an empty easter egg basket and act as if I had just collected eggs from our non existent chickens. I mean, talk about an over active imagination here. I had a glorious childhood. But I have to admit that Charlotte's Web is maybe not as good to watch as an adult...had I not been so attached to it as a child then I don't think I would have enjoyed it as much, if you know what I mean.

The next day, while Nathan was in class I watched everybody's favorite Mary Poppins. Which I think was made even sweeter since I have watched Saving Mr. Banks. (Which, if you haven't seen that movie, then it's another one that you have-to-need-to-no-excuses watch it as soon as humanly possible. Just, yes. Just do it.)

Since I watched my favorite Disney movie, I had to put in Nathan's. So the next movie on the list was Aladdin. Growing up, I didn't watch this movie. But Nathan knew all the songs and sang along, which was really funny for me and kind of made the whole movie more enjoyable. Also, I mean, the genie. That Robin Williams guy is one of my favorites.

And to round it out, I finished up with Anastacia. I give her a ha! and a hi-yah! and a woo-hah! and then I kick her, Sir! I hadn't watched Anastacia since I was eleven, so it was like watching an entirely new movie.

Right now, Nathan is with a team of students presenting a new product so I am taking a break from the reliving of my childhood. We will pick it back up though, probably with Beauty and The Beast. Nathan told me I couldn't watch that one until he was done with homework and everything so that he could actually sit and watch it. I think this is beyond hilarious. Isn't it usually the other way around here? HA.

So even though I didn't go somewhere exotic and I've been playing second fiddle to Nathan's computer, it hasn't been so bad. This is only the halfway point, too. Much more awesomeness to follow, I'm sure.

Plus, you know, hot tubs and boyfriends and well, the sun is shining now! THE SUN IS SHINING!

On Imagination

*mamakat's writer's workshop: Enchanted*

I remember when I was little I thought winter was awesome. I made pretend that our house was a cabin in the woods while I sipped my hot chocolate by the fire place and looked out the window into the backyard.

I had a broad imagination as a child, to say the least. I loved to pretend that my house was a ranch. I often thought I was Laura Ingalls Wilder as a little girl. She was my favorite! And I wanted to have animals and adventures just like Laura.

In the snowy confines of my back yard I would stamp little paths leading here and there to ride my imaginary horses around on. Each of them had a name and was a special breed. All of my horses were 17 hands high because I believed that all horses should be very tall. The tallest horses were the prettiest. I was enamored with Arabian horses, but Clydesdales were my absolute favorite. I loved the feathering detail on their feet, their enormous size, and how pretty they looked as a general rule. I knew Clydesdales were draft horses, and usually their work on a farm was to pull wagons and sleighs, but oh how I just wanted to ride one!

The front yard of the house I grew up in had a ditch in the front that ran around the corner of the yard, all along the street. That ditch is where my brother learned to ride a bike, where I taught myself how to do a back bend by placing my hands higher up than my feet. It was a place to sit and talk with friends in the summer time and our own personal sledding hill in the winter.

In my Laura persona, I would go to garage and pull out my sled into the front yard. Then I would go around back and my imaginary horse to pull me around. Mostly my horse just pulled me down our little ditch-hill. Once we had sledded enough times though, we got brave and started to stand on our sleds.

We pretended that instead of horse sleighs, our sleds were now snowboards! Ah!

We were professionals, you see. But of course, why wouldn't we be? And we would race down our pathetically tiny excuse of a mountainous hill. We would sled and sled and sled and build snowmen and snow-women with eight boobs but no carrot noses. We would play outside until it got late, with only the yellow glow of the house lights and the one street lamp to illuminate our playing field.

I do miss being little and not having to worry about paychecks and text books, passing final exams, getting good grades, relationships, and being clean. I miss being able to stay out until nine o'clock (oh wow how late!) sledding in the front yard after dinner. I like being a grown up now, but I do miss being a little kid. Maybe that's why all my artwork is very childish, you think?

On Being Little

When I was little I didn't have a favorite color. My favorite color changed all the time. Some days it was purple. Some days it was green. One day I got a yellow towel because that's what I thought was my favorite was. When people would ask me what my favorite color was I would either tell them that I didn't know, or I would make up a color that sounded good and really convincing.

But I didn't have a favorite color. It was devastating. Life-threatening. I must've been the only kid without a favorite color, I thought!

It's funny how little kid minds work. Obviously I wasn't the only kid to not know what her favorite color was, but I sure felt like it.

And when I was six we were selling my mom's car because our little family had outgrown its spacious five seats. We would run errands around town with a black and orange For Sale sign in the back window. I was absolutely petrified that someone was going to come and buy our car while we were out and we would be forced to walk home.

I remember going on vacation to a resort where we got to stay in a cabin with my father's parents and his sister and her family. My cousin and I were sharing a room, and it was really hot in our room. She insisted that the window be open to let in some cooler air, and I insisted that the window stay closed lest a bear pop up out of nowhere and gobble us up! I think I was about nine or so.

Also, I played a lot of pretend when I was little. Other kids have memories of all these movies they watched and all these video games they played and I have memories of pretending to be a little Indian girl. I pretended to be Fern from Charlotte's Web and bring my momma a basket of 'eggs.' I would periodically ask her "Where's Poppa goin' with that ax?"

Some days I was Laura Ingalls Wilder living in a cabin in the woods. I would run around outside barefoot doing all sorts of things that I thought Laura would have done. I pretended my bike was a horse. I even gave her name and rode her around everywhere.

I absolutely loved to pretend I lived on a ranch. I would run around the backyard completing invisible chores like feeding horses, mucking stalls, collecting eggs, herding cattle. Life on my ranch was so busy! I had dogs and cats to take care of and chickens to feed!

My old neighborhood was filled with children around my age and TheKeeper's age. We would do all sorts of outrageous things. We fantasized about starting a neighborhood newspaper until my mother called that one to a screeching halt by asking who was going to pay for all the paper and the ink we used? Thwarted, we moved on to bigger and better things. Like starting our own band.

And by band, we meant 'singing group' because none of us could play an instrument besides faking the keyboard like the good elementary schoolers that we were. We even got in a fight about it and formed two 'rival' bands. We were going to put on concerts the same day and whoever got more people to show up to their concert won bragging rights.

We were going to hit it big for sure.

We climbed tress and hay bales from the farm that lived at the end of our street. We used to feed their cows grass too. But now the farmland is all houses and subdivisions, no little kids riding bikes on the old dirt road and wreaking havoc and running amok.

And by the way, my favorite color is blue.

I Was A Little Girl Once, I Promise

My friend Em had a closet full of 'dress-up' clothes. It consisted of some hand-me-downs that were too big and too out of style, a couple of old prom dresses, some old Halloween costumes, a few wigs and shoes that were either two sizes too small or two sizes too big. 

Hours we would spend trying on one garment after another trying to find the perfect look for whatever character we had decided to be that day. Sometimes we were princesses. Sometimes we were fairies. Sometimes we were poor little homeless girls. 

It just depended on our mood. 

And always, always, always we had to do each other's hair. Em had a million and ten little clippy things that one uses to hold strands of hair in place. They were all different colors and different shapes and sizes. We would grab pony tail holders and banana clips. We would use bobby pins and scrunchies.

It took us a long time to get the hair to match the outfit and sometimes we would have to redo the hair a few times in order look 'just right.' 

(See Prince-y? I can totally be a girl.)

But what's really anticlimactic is that we would spend all. that. time. getting. ready. and then we wouldn't even play pretend! Dress up, do your hair and make-up, admire yourself in the mirror, rinse, and repeat. 

Which reminds me of a dumb joke that I learned from Em. I'll type the questions and then you have to answer them. Don't worry, it's not a test or anything. I'm sure you'll do fine. 

Pete and Re-Pete are sitting in a boat. Pete fell out, who's left? 


Pete and Re-Pete are sitting in a boat. Pete fell out, who's left?


Pete and Re-Pete are....well, you get the idea. I told you it was dumb. 

When I Was Little I Was An Indian. Fact.

When I was little we had a tree in our backyard that we called 'the naked tree.' It was so dubbed because occasionally we would get some heavy gusts of wind, and every time we would get some wind this tree would drop branches. 

It was slowly becoming naked.

We collected the branches from the naked tree and made a wikiup. A wikiup is a Native American form of housing, like a teepee but made from the branches of a tree. We were really proud of ourselves for knowing this,  and consequently played 'Indians' in the backyard because we weren't interested in being politically correct. 

In the corner of the yard there was a current berry bush, and in the summertime it was always full of little red sour berries. They weren't that great to eat on their own, but crush them up and douse them in sugar and you have some fine jam.

Steal a few slices of bread on a Warrior Indian Raid and you have yourself a meal.

And also, cool names were a must. I remember coming up with things like "Blooming Flower" or "Purple Lilac" or "White Wolf" etc, etc. There was always a Chief who had to have a Squaw because we were equal opportunity tribe leaders.

This is code for the simple fact we got to be 'in a relationship' with our secret neighborhood crushes without making it awkward. 

But sometimes tribe members would get too rowdy. Naturally we were forced to exile them. The rebels would congregate in the corner of the yard opposite the current berry bush so that they would have to pass our tribe in order to forage for food.

This allowed for us to attack them for entering our territory. Some people would be wounded and some people would die. But the dead ones just came back as other warriors, so no one was really damaged. 

We would play this game a lot, pretending to be Indians. Especially when I was in 4th grade because that's when you learn about Idaho history and Lewis and Clark and Sacajawea.

And you know, it was either that or baseball in the front yard. But we always played with a tennis ball that got lost in the prickly bushes until one of us went and found it and the pitcher always sucked.