Introducing the Junk Magnets!

Here at The Cottage Junk Co., we believe that the objects we live with every day should not only be practical and functional, but beautiful and inspiring as well.

To that end, we are proud to introduce "Junk Magnets"! These glass bauble magnets sport words, phrases, and images, and each is handcrafted to be one of a kind.

Use one with the word "Party" to keep track of a birthday invitation, get one with your favorite dog breed, or how about "Remember", "Love", or "Family"? Before you know it, your family will be leaving junk magnet messages for each other on the refrigerator! Of course, our favorite is the actual "Junk" magnet, created from our logo. Not to mention the sassy green "Real Women have junk in the trunk"!

These fabulous little gems will be making their debut next weekend in our booth on the Walkway by the Creek, adjacent to Pavilion 2, at First Monday Trade Days in Canton, Texas. And just in time for Mother's Day!

Come by and see us if you're in the neighborhood. And if your fridge could use some junk magnets, mention this blog, and you'll receive the special offer of "buy 4, get the 5th one free".

Happy junking!

Cheryl & Rikki

That Voice (you know you use it)

My first best friend was a Boston Terrier named Camilla. She was a couple of years older than me, and the closest thing I ever had to a patient, loving big sister. I dressed her up in aprons and headscarves, and later on, my brothers played soccer with her. She loved going on boat rides with my dad, and had a healthy respect for my mom.

I remember the voice my dad used to use with her: that loopy, excited voice where your pitch goes up and your IQ goes down, automatically. I used to think it was silly, but Camilla's little stub of a tail would wag a mile a minute.

I always considered myself a cat person. After Camilla, we had cats, my kids had cats, and they were personalities and family members. And yes, I gave them silly nicknames and crooned to them in That Voice. It's automatic - you can't help it! It's like childless couples listing all the things they'll never do with, to, or for, their kids, and as soon as the kids come on the scene, the list is out the window (yes, David, I mean you!).

Then came a time without cats. Within a couple of years, both our female and our male cat got out and never came home. Considering my husband and younger son both had cat allergies, we said "que sera sera" and began living pet free. Well, unless you count the hamster.

And now, there's Callie. Callie came into the family in January 2007, after my husband started mentioning that he thought our daughter needed a dog. I resisted as long as I could, aware of who would be saddled with the ultimate care and responsibility for the dog (hint: not the kids).
But it just so happened that a soccer mom on the team I was coaching had a litter of Lhasa Apso puppies that she was giving away. And it just so happened that I had to drop off some soccer paperwork at her house. A week later, we brought home a little white, tan, and chocolate furball and named her Callie.

Now, I'm doing all the things I swore I'd never do with, to, and for, my dog. Callie sleeps at the foot of our bed (or on my husband's pillow, if he's working late). She begs at the table and jumps on people. And if she accidentally gets unleashed, there's only one thing to do: use That Voice. You know the one. The loopy, excited one. The one where your pitch goes up and your IQ goes down. Come on, say it with me: "Treeeeeat? Callie want a treeeeat?"

P.S. Guess how I got Callie to pose with me on my newly spruced up front porch, above? (hint: it starts with "t" and ends with "reeeat"...)

Every day should be Mother's Day

Mother's Day is an internationally recognized holiday. In Sweden, Mother's Day is always the last Sunday in May,which is great for me, because it gives me a little time to get my act together and send a gift to my mom which might actually get there in time. Not that she cares if it's late - she loves her artistic, disorganized, procrastinating daughter just the way I am.
Over the years, I've given her a motley assortment of gifts, but I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt which one is her favorite. It's a poem I wrote her when I was a teen, called "Every day should be Mother's Day". She framed it and hung it on her bedroom wall, where it hangs to this day. I think showing her how much I appreciated her, with just a few simple words made her feel valued, and validated in her role as a stay-at-home mom.
My mom, Marianne, is an interesting woman. A striking beauty who turned heads when she was barely a teen, crowned "Lucia" (a traditional winter beauty pageant) of her home town at age 17, she had dreams of going into nursing. Instead, she married my dad at age 21, and settled into making a home. Not that things were always so nice and settled - my parents tell stories of intense arguments early on in their married life. Mom was known to throw plates (it's hard to get that woman out of the kitchen), and then there was the time when my dad retaliated with eggs. Egg yolks running down her kitchen walls, mom dissolved into helpless laughter, argument forgotten.
Mom was my rock growing up. On her seventh-grade education, she nevertheless managed to help me study for my French test. She knew who my friends were, and what was going on in my world. She listened to my dreams and aspirations without cynicism or sarcasm, and she taught me how to drive, simply by sitting back, calmly, and letting me figure it out (whereas my dad the car salesman sat bolt upright, white knuckles clutching the hand brake).
I always knew she'd be a terrific grandma. I have summer memories of walks in the woods where she would catch a frog in her hands for two-year-old Mattias to examine up close (for my neatnik mom, that one was quite a stretch), as well as endless games of Old Maid with a shamelessly cheating five-year-old Linnea.
I guess I was on to something with my teenage poetic effort. Every day should be Mother's Day, in the sense that we should always be aware of how much our loved ones mean to us, and make an effort to express it on a regular basis. I love you, mamma!

Rikki

Real Women

Lately, I've been thinking about real women, and what it takes to evolve from an insecure, immature woman to a Real one. I guess it might have something to do with my rapidly approaching 40th birthday (in September). A little background:
I hated my 20s - at least in terms of how I felt about myself. I didn't know who I was, much less who I wanted to become. So you let other people's opinion of you become your own. Not that I had the luxury of ample time to contemplate these existential questions - in my 20s, I moved across the world, married, and had three babies. In that situation, it's hard enough to figure out what's for dinner, let alone what you want to be when you grow up!
And then I turned 30. It was literally a turning point. Our family was complete, and I began to take steps toward building a career. I would encourage any woman, even if you don't have to earn an income, to find something you're passionate about, and pursue it. And it has to be something other than your kids. If your kids and their activities are your sole passion and purpose, it puts too much pressure on them... imho.
For me, that passion turned out to be painting. In building my decorative painting business, I found a creative outlet, a source of income, the gratification of happy clients, and the guts to become (I hope) a good boss. And I guess, somewhere along the way, I grew up. I struggle with all the same things as every other woman on the planet: housework (and the marital division of it), raising kids (one of whom keeps toeing the line), work and finances (the perpetual tightrope), and last but not least, my weight!
When Cheryl and I created The Cottage Junk Co., our tagline presented itself readily as follows: "Real Women have junk in the trunk." It's on the back of our famous logo tee (available for purchase at our First Monday Trade Days booth in Canton, Texas, and coming soon to our website www.thecottagejunkco.com) and we wear it proudly and welcome the chuckles and attention it garners.
Being a Real Woman is all about embracing the junk in your trunk. From the debris of your life that invariably gathers in the back of your vehicle (for me, it tends to be stray shinguards, discarded snack wrappers and that missing soccer ball pump, courtesy of my kids, mixed with paintbrushes, rags, scribbled directions and sample boards for my painting business, leaving room only for that latest fabulous junk find, on its way to our storage/workshop to be transformed into Cottage Junk), to the baggage which, good or bad, has made you who you are today, to the couple extra pounds we all think we carry around on our backside.
Embrace all of it, knowing that Real Women have junk in the trunk. And get yourself a t-shirt to prove it!
Happy junking!
Rikki