<![CDATA[ - Lori's Blog]]>Wed, 17 Feb 2016 06:40:38 -0800Weebly<![CDATA[To Know]]>Sun, 14 Feb 2016 21:23:40 GMThttp://www.primandposhhandbags.com/loris-blog/to-knowHello again, friends.

I have another story to tell.

Let's begin in 2010.  Six years ago.  I was loving life as a momma to Drew (age 6) and Ben (age 3).  Life was good.  No, life was grand.  I remember wanting to freeze time so I could just stay in that stage forever.  But underneath all of that goodness, there was something else stirring.  Something I only confided to those "in my circle."  Those trusted few I kept near and dear to me. 

I wanted another child.  Badly.  

Like many husbands I know, Bart did not share my desire or enthusiasm.  You see, the last time we had a baby, this was where we found ourselves:
Terrifying, isn't it?  I still after 9 years can hardly look at these photos.  

Our sweet baby Ben developed a hole in his right lung seconds after birth.  There was no warning before, nothing to pick up on an ultrasound, it just
happened.  Doctors believe that for whatever reason (He was a C-section baby?  He was 2 weeks early?  Maybe I skipped one too many of those horrible prenatal vitamins?) his lungs were weak.  When he entered this world mad as a hornet (thank you, red-head temper...)
 his little lung just couldn't take it.  

​Instead of snuggling with my baby like I had dreamed about for months, he was taken back to surgery.   They repaired the hole, and a chest tube was put in place.  The doctors would say to us, "This will work.  He should be back down here with you in a few hours.  Now granted, worst case scenario,
fill in the blank with a scary situation could happen.  But those chances are so slim."   

And then it would happen.  Over, and over, and over again.

By the next morning he was transferred to Riley's Children's Hospital.  He was on scary ventilators and had an IV tower full of 12 medications.  Everywhere we looked something was hooked up to our baby.  He was put into a coma, and we weren't allowed to touch him.  There were no more "worst case scenarios."  We were there.  The Riley Doctors told us not to leave the hospital because he was probably not going to survive.  We needed to be present when our little boy passed away.

That's rough, my friends.

​Of course, if you know us you know that God gave us a miracle at that hospital 9 years ago.  Ben defied the statistics.  He turned the corner.  His progress made doctors and nurses scratch their heads and say, "I don't know how it happened, but it did!"

We knew without a sliver of doubt.  The doctors and nurses at Riley were amazing and we were so thankful for them, but God had saved our son.  

Ben has 5 scars from the experience you can still see on him today.  One over his right lung from his chest tube, and four are over his heart where his main line had been placed all of those weeks.  

As for the rest of us, you can't see our scars, but they are there just the same.  

I could not blame my husband for not wanting to have another child.  I understood his fear; his anxiety at the thought of this happening again.  More so, this happening again with a different ending.  No doctor could tell us why this happened.  "You are just that 1 in 10,000 case that occurred.  You didn't do anything wrong.  It's not hereditary.  It just

​Bart's take was wise.  Why, oh why, would I want to sign up for that again?  Was I crazy?  I couldn't make sense of it myself, but it was there.  Down deep in my being.  I felt so ungrateful.   Here God had given me the two beautiful boys I had, how could I ask for another?  We were granted a miracle, wasn't that enough?  Yet, it still remained.  I yearned for another baby.  When I looked at my family I felt like someone was missing.  I saw babies everywhere.  No matter where I sat at church, a new mother would sit in front of us with her darling newborn.  Every single little boy or girl would lock eyes with me like they knew.
"There's one more.  You are missing one."

It was torture.  I prayed for God to either change Bart's mind or change my heart.  Take it away.  If the answer is no, if this is just me, please...  Take it away.  I don't want to feel like this anymore.

Time passed, and God was faithful.  He did take my yearning away.  It didn't happen overnight, but slowly my heart gave up on the idea of another child.  He led me to Prim & Posh, my purse company.  After a few more years He sent me to teach Music at our Elementary School... my dream job.  Our boys were growing older, and man!  How I enjoyed them.  No more diapers, temper tantrums, or time-outs.  We could eat out anytime!  We drove a sporty Outlander full of big kid equipment.  We could travel anywhere on a whim.  
 Drew and Ben were becoming their own people, and what neat ones they were.  
What was I thinking?  Thinking that we needed another baby all those years ago...  It must have been temporary insanity.      

We were happy.  Life was easy.  Everything was smooth sailing.
Until I found out I was pregnant.

Let's just say even when you
think you are following all of the rules, nothing is 100% effective besides sterilization.  Well, wait.  That's not true either.  I know a couple who thought...  you know what?  Never mind.  My point is, we were being responsible adults.  Or so we thought.                  

I remember taking the test half jokingly that morning.  I just knew I wasn't pregnant.  I mean, there was like that .01% chance, but really.  Come on.  That just doesn't happen.  A few minutes later I was sitting on the edge of my bathtub, staring at the two blue lines.  Shaking, scared, petrified.  Yelling for Bart to come back to the bathroom.  Him responding, "I'm on my way out the door...  Is it important?"  (Um, yeah!)  

Bart smiled the biggest smile and hugged me tight.  I cried for 2 days.

"I can't be pregnant.  I just can't.  What about Drew and Ben?  This is going to rock their world.  What about my job?!  I love my job.  My kiddos I teach...  I can't leave them!  We won't all fit in the Outlander.  What are we going to drive?!  We don't have ANYTHING for a baby!  We don't even have a bedroom!  And I'm 35!  I can't be pregnant at 35!  Isn't there scary things that can happen after 35?  I think I remember reading that somewhere."  And then my stomach dropped:

"What if he can't breathe?"

The terror that washed over me.  I can't explain it into words.  It paralyzed me.  You see, years ago when I thought of another baby I don't think I ever let myself go too far down that road of thought.  With Bart not on board I never really considered what it would be like if I actually did get pregnant again.

It was almost as though Bart and I had traded places.  Like God knew Bart needed 6 more years to catch up and heal from the Riley experience.  From the day we found out we were expecting this baby he has been so happy.  Calm.  Excited.  He can't wait to meet our boy.  There isn't the slightest hesitation in him.  "Lori, this little guy was just meant to be.  We needed him, even if we didn't know that we did."  If Bart is ever afraid, he is hiding it well.  Me on the other hand?  I'm a mess. 

I fiercely love this baby.  Yes, life is different and changes have been made.  Not just small adjustments, but huge, massive changes.  It doesn't matter.  I would do it all again for him.  He is the one that has been missing.  The one that my heart knew was coming all those year ago.  Please, oh please God.  I'm so scared.  I'm so afraid it is going to happen again.  And this time... I can't even type the words.

I know God will not leave us.  I know that He saved Ben and gave us this child too.  But fear is a nasty, awful, wretched thing.  It sneaks up on you slowly when you least expect it.  It grips you until you can't function.  It renders you helpless, leaving you alone in the dark and twisty.

I wish I could tell you that I haven't been afraid.  That the fear hasn't got to me at all.  As Christians we are not supposed to be afraid, right?  Simple as that.  Just don't do it, Lori.  If your faith was maybe just a little bit bigger, then you wouldn't be scared.  

That's not how it works.  At least not for this girl.  But, I can tell you that every time I feel the fear creep in I have hit my knees in prayer.  I know this is beyond anything that I could ever "cope with" on my own.  I need God.  He is waiting every single time to take it from me and give me a peace unlike anything else in this world.  

I have been attending a Bible Study with the most amazing group of ladies recently, and God keeps doing things like this:    
My favorite way that God has used this study to speak to me was the day we studied John 14:5-9.  It's not your typical "do not be afraid" verse.  Believe me, I have spent time with those lately too.  This is part of an exchange between Jesus and his disciples about the Father (God) living in him.  An odd verse to stop this fearful girl, but it struck me right through the heart.  
Thomas said to him, "Lord, we don't know where you are going, so how can we know the way?  

Jesus answered, "I am the way and the truth and the life.  No one comes to the Father except through me.  If you really know me, you will know my Father as well.  From now on, you do know him and have seen him.

Philip said, "Lord, show us the Father and that will be enough for us."

Jesus answered, "Don't you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you such a long time?"  

​God was speaking to me.

Don't you
know me, Lori?  Even after all this time, you doubt that I will take care of you?  Of your family?  Do you think that anything is too big for me?  Do you think I would ever leave you, no matter what happens?  Good or bad?  

It was like I could hear him sighing out of frustration.  I was Philip.  Needing that constant reassurance.  "Just show me a little more.  Just convince me that everything will be ok, and that will be enough for me."  

​No.  I don't need to be reassured.  I need to
know that my God is bigger than anything that can happen to us.  Even if the worst case scenario does.  (Oh, that is so hard, my friends.  So. Hard.)  I need to believe.  To trust.  Don't I know
my God by now?  

I leave you today with one request.  Would you join us in prayer?  Pray that our boy is born with strong, healthy lungs.  Pray that he is able to breathe.  Pray for peace for not only me, but for our entire family.
I can't deny that there is excitement in the air at the Wade home.  It's very surreal.  Our bags are packed, the nursery is ready, and this Momma feels like she has been pregnant forever.  This week we will head to the hospital for another C-section.  I absolutely can't wait to see Bart in scrubs, holding his little boy.  And the looks on Drew and Ben's faces when they finally meet him!  (Or when have to help with the first diaper change...  Ha!)  Most of all, I can't wait to look deep into his eyes and whisper to him, "I knew you were coming."  

Oh Lord, help me
<![CDATA[One More:  A Story About Trust]]>Sun, 22 Sep 2013 03:36:37 GMThttp://www.primandposhhandbags.com/loris-blog/one-more-a-story-about-trustHello, friends.  It's been a while.  

I haven't written much lately mainly because there just. isn't. time.  You all know how it can be.  The hours of the day fill up quickly, and sometimes life feels like a constant race to get everything done.  

But...  I have one story that just can't wait to be told.  Forgive me for the following novel, but I don't know how else to tell it. I simply can't leave any part of it out.  I'm blaming my long, windy, story-telling gene from my Momma's side. 

Our tale begins in February of this year.  I was swimming along happily at Spark, selling purses and rocking the handmade goodness. I just knew the shop had been a God-thing because of how everything there came to be so easily.  
Suddenly in March I started feeling very "off." I really don't know how else to explain it. I mean, everything in the shop was running perfectly. There wasn't any reason for me to feel this way. (other than God working on me.) After a few weeks of this, I took a sanity day. I stayed home, worked on housework, and prayed. We are talkin' a big ole' pow-wow with the Big Guy. I told God that I didn't understand what was going on in my heart, but I knew He did. I asked Him to show me what I was supposed to do.  You see, I knew if I kept barreling through life with my own ideas, it wasn't going to work. 

That was a Tuesday.

The next day I went back to work at Spark and had a normal day. Bart (who knew nothing about what was going on in my crazy head) called me after school. He said, "Lori, I just had the weirdest thing happen. Harry Huber just stopped by my classroom with a letter for you."

Harry Huber was a former principal at Linton Elementary School.  Before Prim & Posh... before my kiddos... I was a teacher.  I taught 2nd Grade at Linton Elementary, and I loved those children.  I still check in on how they are doing now and then.  (They are High School Seniors and in college now!)  The year I was hired Harry was just retiring, but our paths crossed long enough for him to be small part of my beginning at Linton Elementary.  I had Drew a few years later, and I became the stay-at-home Momma that I've been for the last 10 years.      

When Bart got home I opened and read the letter. It was a handwritten note from Harry, and folded inside was my Philosophy of Education that I had written when I applied for my second grade job years ago.  I won't go into detail the contents of his note, but it isn't hard to guess.  I cried, and Bart thought I was crazy. 

Honestly?  Truthfully?  Teaching was the farthest thing from my mind in March.  It almost seemed like another life.  One that was tucked away oh-so-carefully in my mind.  I remember thinking, "Ok God, that's cool and all, but that really doesn't make sense right now.  I'm the purse lady, remember?" I wrote it off as a really neat coincidence and a sweet gesture from a friend.    

That was Wednesday.

The next day I went to back to work at Spark.  Shortly after I opened the shop my phone rang.  I glanced down and saw that it was my Dad calling.  I immediately picked up, thinking something must be wrong for him to be calling me at such an odd time.  He said, "Lori, I just had the weirdest thing happen. I was eating breakfast at McDonalds, and Harry Huber was there. He sat down with me, and we chit chatted for a while. He brought up you and......" 

The exact same story came out of my Dad's mouth. 

I bawled, and then explained to Dad what I thought God was doing. That was Thursday.

The next day was the Science Fair at school. I help with the Science Club at school, so I came in that morning to help all the kiddos get their display boards set up. I finished helping a student with his board and turned around to help the next. Harry Huber was standing there (in the flesh!) with his grandson, ready to set up his board. Harry said to me, "Do you still believe what you wrote 10 years ago?" We talked, and I tried really, really hard not to cry.

That was Friday. At this point, I knew this wasn't a fluke or coincidence. 

Saturday I went to work at Spark again. My Aunt Meleah (who works at the hospital) came in to restock her booth. We got to talking, and as we gabbed we noticed some poor kid trying to parallel park across the street. We started talking about our old Drivers Ed teachers. She paused, and a weird look came across her face. She said, "Lori, I know this is going to sound really strange... But I feel like I need to tell you something. The other day I was clocking out at work and the Hospital Board meeting had just let out. I ran into Harry Huber in the hallway. He brought you up and ....."

I kid you not. I cried (once again), and told her what was going on. After she left I told God, "Ok! I get it! I don't know how it's going to work, but I trust you!"

The next week I was telling all of this to Christina, the sweet author from our shop. I told her I didn't understand why God had me open Spark if He really intended me to be somewhere else in a few months time. Why would He do that? Did I just make that all up in my head? How can something I thought was so centered and right suddenly just not be?  She said one of the coolest things. She said, "Well, Miss Lori, I don't want this to sound wrong, but maybe it's not about you.  Maybe you had to be right here to get things off and running. Look at the people this shop is helping. The sweet Card Ladies, the Orphan Team, the 80 some year old porcelain art lady? Maybe this was all for them, and your just the piece that needed to be here for a little while."

Talk about a DUH moment. The shop was self-sufficient at this point. Between Carnegie members, volunteers, the AARP employee, and vendors in the shop we had plenty of people to keep the shop open. I didn't have to be there anymore. I could manage the bookkeeping and payroll part of it at home.

So, I waited. I knew I should probably get an application in at the school this summer. (Another duh moment) Something just held me back. I never felt that GO feeling in my gut. 

I was so confused.

School began, and I sent all 3 of my handsome men back.  Suddenly, on the second day of school I was struck with that strong, undeniable, GO.  It didn't make any sense to me because school had already started. The jobs were all taken.  I remember shaking my head and wondering what in the world was going on with me.  How foolish would I look applying the second day of school?  I took a deep breath, cracked out the old resume, and got to work.  
The only way to work on a resume in a house full of boys.
I logged onto the school website the next day and saw a new job posting. 

Here’s the super cool thing that just made me cry all over again. The new posting was for an elementary music teacher. My first choice of a minor when I started at ISU was music. I have a pretty solid musical background, and it made sense at the time. I sat through 1 day of classes and panicked. In one I found myself with 100 or so Music Minors AND Majors. The Minor peeps were great, but the Major peeps were soooooo snotty and arrogant.  They were basically the most talented musicians ev-ah. I was told I had to sing. Out loud. In front of all of them. Once a week. I switched minors the next day.

I couldn't believe the new job posting was a music teacher.  Was this what God had planned all this time?  Is this why He had been working on me for months?  I think I already knew it was.  I officially applied for the job and waited.

And waited.  

And waited.  

After a few weeks I started to feel that doubt start to creep in.  "Do you really think that God sent you, little ole' measly you, a sign?  Do you really think that is what He meant?  Are you sure this isn't just all in your head?  Who are you to think they would even pick you?  You've been out for 10 years!"  Over and over again I had to work through the doubt and just trust that God knew where He was taking me.  Maybe it was this job, maybe it wasn't.  Not only that, but I knew deep down I had to be ok if the answer was no.  That was hard, friends.  Harder than I thought it would be.      

Time marched on, and a new week rolled around.  I met my Aunt Tish for our weekly walk on a Monday morning.  It's great getting out and exercising with her, but mostly I love our talks.     
One of my besties, Brooke, Aunt Tish, and I at the Run Like a Rockstar 5k a few weeks ago. It was so HOT that day!
Aunt Tish and I had just finished our laps for the day and were gabbing at our cars.  She knew I had applied for the job and was waiting.  She asked how I was doing, and I said, "I think I just gotta keep my heart straight.  If this is what God has in store for me, then that's awesome.  If not, then that's ok too.  I have to trust that whatever the outcome, He has a plan and I will be ok."  As soon as I finished speaking, my phone rang.  It was the principal at Linton Elementary calling, wondering if I would be interested in teaching Elementary Music (& reading interventions).    
My Aunt Tish's eyes grew HUGE as she listened to me accept my dream job.  I hung up the phone, screamed like a high school girl, and hugged her tight.     

HOW AMAZING IS OUR GOD?!?  Who could ever pull off something like that?  It makes me ashamed that I ever doubt Him.  Embarrassed that I ever question Him.  When I look back, I am awestruck by how He wove this all together.  If you would have told me a year ago that I would be teaching music and managing a gift shop on the side, I would have smiled sweetly but secretly thought you were ready for the looney bin.  Yet, here I sit on a beautiful Saturday, 4 days of teaching music now under my belt.  And friends, it feels so right, so centered.  Almost like it was meant to be all along.      

Call me cheesy.  Crazy.  A fanatic.  A religious fool who has drank too much of the kool-aid.  Thank you so very much for your opinion kind sir, but I just don't really care.  I know deep down in my bones that it's real.  This isn't just some grand coincidence that I writing my faith into.  This was a mighty & powerful God taking the time to guide his daughter to where she needed to be.  To think that we matter enough to Him to do so... it simply blows my mind.  
Where I am today on this gorgeous Saturday was not my plan at all.  But my goodness, how much better it was than mine.

Now, if I can only remember that!  :)               
<![CDATA[GNATS.]]>Thu, 16 May 2013 22:26:32 GMThttp://www.primandposhhandbags.com/loris-blog/thu-may-16-2013     Healthy Lori has been trying to make a come back these past few months. Before you start picturing me all health-conscious and sporty, I must tell you it has more to do with the size of my nose and coffee-induced weight loss inspiration.  But, that's another blog for a different day.

     Part of my current health kick involves walking. I've bought new tennis shoes, sports bras, and yoga pants. I unearthed my old ipod and filled it with JT and The Black Keys. Momma isn't playin' this time, peeps.

    Bart is encouraging for the most part, but still grumbles about me walking alone.  "You just never know, Lori. Some crazy person could just nab you!"  I roll my eyes and assure him that the two classes of Karate I took at college will suffice. 

    Today I sat off on my morning walk and was immediately attacked.

 By gnats.

    They buzzed my ears and flew into my sunglasses. The little minions dive bombed me over and over again. I'm sure I looked quite comical as I drunk walked up a hill while flailing my arms all around my head.

     Not quite the look I was going for.

     The strongest platoon of gnats was at the very top of the tallest hill. I actually broke into a slight jog (complete with said flailing arms) to try and get away. That's how serious this was, folks. These jerks actually got me to run.

I looked something like this:
     Before we continue, am I wearing that jacket right?  When did we start putting thumb holes in our clothes?  


     I continued on, fighting the fight. I caught little breaks now and then, but the battle still raged. I looped back around and saw in the distance that huge hill. Those little devils were waiting on me, I was sure if it.

     As I neared the top of the hill I suddenly saw movement out of the corner of my eye. A tall man was walking across the yard. He held something tightly in his hand, and he was bee-lining straight towards me.

Oh crap.

This is it.

Stranger Danger!!! Help!!

     My mind suddenly went into Karate self-defense mode. My muscles tensed, I pulled out my ear bud, and started to raise my hands in front of my chest. I was straight-up ninja. I wasn't going down without a fight, by George. 

    Within seconds he was upon me and opening his hand.  I gasped as I turned my gaze into what was inside... 

A little bottle of vanilla extract.

    "I, uh, saw you battling those gnats earlier. They say this stuff really helps keep them off of you. Here..."

     And then that sweet gentleman gave me his bottle. I didn't even hesitate. I dumped some vanilla in my palm, and I spread it all over my head and neck. Desperate times, desperate measures.

     I handed the bottle back to him and smiled.  I thanked him and continued on my way. 

    After that the gnats were all, "RETREAT!!" and I was all, "Suck it, Minions!!" I swear I had a little more bounce in my step as I finished my walk.

    It's the little things, friends.  Random acts of kindness.  It may come in the form of a hug, a helping hand, or sometimes even a bottle of vanilla.       

<![CDATA[The Other Handbag I Wish You Would Buy]]>Tue, 23 Apr 2013 02:33:15 GMThttp://www.primandposhhandbags.com/loris-blog/the-other-handbag-i-would-rather-you-buy     Sunday mornings are a bit hectic at our house.  Our church has two services, one at 8:15 and another at 11:00. I go to bed every Saturday night thinking we will make it to the first one.  This might have actually happened twice in my lifetime.  It doesn't matter if I lay outfits out the night before, set an alarm, or have the breakfast cereal already out on the table.  It just doesn't work in our house.  We always end up rushing around and barely get there in time for Sunday school in between the services.  I guess we are just forever destined to eat lunch at 1:00 pm on Sundays.  

     The other day I found a solution for part of our problem.  Our Bibles, Sunday school stuff, and coats (x4) were slowing us down.  "MOM!  I can't find my Bible!  MOM!  Where is my jacket?  LORI!  Have you seen my Sunday school book?"  Then after we made it to church, we were juggling all 3 things (x4) while we were there.  Everything was getting shoved into my everyday purse (which is not that big) or ended up being dropped on the floor.  My solution?
     My "Keep it Together, Momma!" Church bag.  Big enough to accommodate all of our Sunday treasures plus Momma's thermos of coffee.  I pack it the night before, and we are golden.     
     That's all wonderful and a cute little story, but the real reason I am writing this post?  

     This bag is special.

     This bag wasn't made by me.  This gorgeous bag was sewn by Sally, a young lady who lives halfway across the world.  

     Sally is not just sewing for fun or to have extra spending money each month.  Her handbags are much more than just a hobby.  She has no other means to buy food, housing, or medical care.  She dreams of one day opening her own sewing shop in her hometown of Arua.  Sally is one of the talented Artisans of Uganda that make up Tuluka.  

     The adoption booth at Spark brought in new inventory this week.  Part of that inventory was a display of Tukula totes and bags.  Attached to each bag is a photo of the woman that handcrafted it.  Here is a quote from the Tukula display:

      Tukula is a cause-driven business invested in giving local Ugandan artisans an opportunity to grow above poverty.  We do this by giving our artisans an above average wage for quality handmade products, an encouraging work environment, medical care and access to savings programs.  They are then able to provide themselves and their families with homes, food, education and hope for the future.  

     Through working with Tukula, these ladies are gaining confidence, joy, and the opportunity to empower others.
     Please, please come and buy these bags.  We will only have them available in our shop for a couple of weeks, so we need to do a whole lot of goodness in a little bit of time.  I don't care if I sell 1 piddly Prim & Posh Bag this month, but I will be devastated if these are still here after a few weeks.  Maybe you are looking for a "Keep it Together, Momma" bag like I was.  Maybe you are looking for a chic reusable shopping bag.  Or maybe, you just see how important these handmade treasures are to these beautiful women.  Whatever your heart may be thinking, please come buy.  We will be ever so thankful.

     Click here for hours/location of our shop.

     Click here for more information about Tukula.  
<![CDATA[Reunited, and it Feels so Good]]>Mon, 15 Apr 2013 19:59:32 GMThttp://www.primandposhhandbags.com/loris-blog/reunited-and-it-feels-so-good
Dear Coffee,

      As I sit at work this morning, I can't help but think about all the years we were apart.  I first tried you at the mere age of 8 while visiting one of my father's construction sites.  I still remember that the air was cold, the thermos blue, and the cup styrofoam. The memory is still crystal clear in my mind.  It really wasn't fair us meeting that way, with me all still a kiddo and you all straight-up bitter black.  I'm sorry I spit you out and swore I would "never ever" like you.  

     Then came the hot chocolate, coca-cola, and cappuccino years.  Years where I thought I had found my perfect caffeinated drink, only to be disappointed again and again.  All of them looked very promising at first, but they never quite measured up in the end.  

     Then....Keurig, sweet Keurig!  The K-man came into my life at Christmas time last year, and he knew we belonged together.  I suffered through a week with miserable K-Cup cappuccinos, until I finally found myself with nothing left to brew but a Tully's Extra-Bold French Roast from the starter pack.  Thank goodness I was feeling adventurous that day.  

     Oh, the sweet smell of freshly brewed goodness!  The pretty swirl of creamer on top!  It was all over for me after the first sip.  I was hooked, and there was no going back.   

     And what a team we make! Gone is the grumpy zombie Lori of the mornings. She has been replaced by focused, razor-sharp Lori. Once my eyes dilate into little pinpoints, I can conquer the world. Together we have cleaned and reorganized an entire house, revamped the sewing studio, and even opened a gift shop for pete's sake.

I love you, coffee. That is all.

<![CDATA[The Spring Line]]>Wed, 20 Mar 2013 14:31:06 GMThttp://www.primandposhhandbags.com/loris-blog/the-spring-line     It's the first day of Spring.  A bitter cold, windy, but sunshiny kind of day.  For me it's just the right kind of start to this new season.  I've known spring was coming, but just like our good old Indiana weather I'm not quite ready.  (Just so you know.....we are talking about Prim & Posh only here.  Lori herself is chanting, "COME ON SPRING!"  I'm so over this winter.)

     As much as it kills me to type it, there will be no new Spring Line this year.  (
I know, I know.  I hate it.)  I've found that Prim & Posh is an ever changing entity.  Just when I think I have it all figured out, little tweaks and changes fall into my lap.  I've trusted my gut on every decision I have made so far, and sadly it is now telling me something has to give.  Managing both the Spark Shop and Prim & Posh is awesome, but time-consuming.  I'm also slowly working on the launch of the patterns portion of P & P when I have a free moment.  Unless I magically figure out how to exist without any sleep, there is just not anything left of me to give right now.  

    So, we are changing.  Prim & Posh will now have 1 official Line Release / Catalog a year.  These will launch in the fall, and these fabrics and styles will be available until the fall of the following year.  Our current Fall Line / Catalog will be carried over into the spring and summer of this year.  I do hope to offer a few summer additions to the Line, but we are only talking 1-2 bag styles and/or fabrics.  

    It's hard for my mind to "give" on something.  A little part of me feels disappointed, bitter, and cold like Mother Nature today.  But, I have to remember to trust the sunshine that is also there down deep.  Good days are coming, I know.      
<![CDATA[Ichthyology]]>Thu, 21 Feb 2013 03:45:59 GMThttp://www.primandposhhandbags.com/loris-blog/ichthyologyRemember when my little Ben asked for a fish for his 5th birthday?  (You can read about it here.)

We started with a 1 gallon tank and 3 Glo Fish.
I realized very quickly that I had no idea what I was doing.

I thought I knew all about fish keeping because I had kept a Betta alive through college.  It turns out that Bettas have an extra organ that basically help them survive in the most terrible conditions.  Like naive-college-student owner ones.  Who knew.    

The first Glo Fish died within 12 hours.  The other two were gasping for air at the surface the next day.  I knew they wouldn't last much longer.  My son's birthday gift was veering into disaster territory.  I did what every good momma would do.

I consulted Dr. Google.

Holy. Cow.  I read thread after thread about fish keeping, and I left feeling like I was the scum of the earth.  This is what I found over and over again:  "Who would keep THREE fish in a one gallon tank?!?  That is inhumane and oh-so cruel!  What EVIL person buys Glo Fish?  Do you know how they are created?  How COULD YOU add fish before you allowed your tank to go through the nitrogen cycle!?"   (nitrogen what?)  Why weren't these experts of Dr. Google working at my local Petsmart?  The 19 year old who sold me these fish didn't mention anything like this.  She smiled, reassured me they were a great fit for our tank, and sent me on my way.  I had been fooled.

Operation Save the Glo Fish began.  Over the next few days I educated myself on true fish-keeping by reading those message boards.  The best one I found was:   www.myaquariumclub.com  and my favorite poster was Mr. John Arthur.  I upgraded our tank to a 3 gallon one, started following all the "rules," and low and behold.....I saved those two fish.  (High five!  Psh!)

A few months later a family member called.  She had a 35 gallon hexagon tank she was looking to get rid of.  Would we want it?

Heck yes, we would!  

I graduated to the big leagues, baby.  And this time I went in with a game plan.  I cycled the tank before adding any fish.  I tested the levels of ammonia and nitrates.  I added those fish to the aquarium the humane way.  Mr. John Arthur would be so proud.

Yes, we have lost a few fish along the way.  Each time I logged back into the aquarium club and found out why.  I over fed a Sunburst Platy and lost him to Swim Bladder.  (Swim Bladder??  Seriously?  That's a thing?)  
I lost a pair of Cory Catfish because I didn't have an air stone to oxygenate the bottom of the tank where they like to live.  Apparently it's common with hex tanks.  ::shrugs shoulders::  We are learning along the way.  Our original two Glo Fish now share their tank with a Zebra Danio, a Mickey Mouse Platy, 4 Neon Tetras, 2 different Algae Eaters, and a Ghost Shrimp that hitched a ride with the Tetras.  Boo-ya.  We haven't lost a fish in a few months, so I think it is safe to say we've finally found our niche.

Ichthyology.  My new degree acquired from Dr. Google.          
<![CDATA[Opening Day]]>Thu, 07 Feb 2013 02:40:55 GMThttp://www.primandposhhandbags.com/loris-blog/opening-dayThis past Saturday I woke up, sprung out of bed, and hurried to the window.  As I peered through the dusty mini-blinds my spirit fell.  



On our opening day.  

ARG!  Sooooo much prep work had been done for this chosen day, February 2nd.  (2-2, my lucky number).  I knew opening a shop in February was not ideal, but I had jumped anyway.  I watched the forecast all week hoping that our little weather man would change that ominous snow cloud that hovered over Saturday.  

I sighed and switched out my cute black high heels that I had planned to wear for my furry snow boots.  It was time to go to work.

A few hours later the sidewalks were shoveled, the stage was set, and the coffee was hot.  I hate to admit it, but the pessimist in me was starting to win at 8:55.  I really began to think there was no way anyone was going to come through those swingy doors.  

The first customers started to arrive at 9:00 on the dot.  They kept coming all day long, and they didn't stop until 4:55 that afternoon. 

I didn't hardly sit down the entire day.  I wanted to hug every person who walked in stamping the snow off of their shoes.  By the afternoon I started to realize this was really happening.  People were showing up in the biggest way, and these people really got it.

At one point the snow started to fall again in big, fluffy snowflakes.  With so many beautiful glass windows throughout the Carnegie, it almost felt like we were inside a huge snow globe.  It made me catch my breath, and I silently thanked the Big Guy for working out all the details.  

Even the snowy ones.            
<![CDATA[Worry.]]>Mon, 28 Jan 2013 16:03:38 GMThttp://www.primandposhhandbags.com/loris-blog/worryHoly cow, I don't think I've ever been this busy in my life.  

And it's SWEET.

Spark is gearing up to open this coming Saturday, and friends.....it's going to be awesome.  The shop is slowly starting to take shape.  The Carnegie's grand antique door has been swinging like a carousel as the artists have been getting their displays ready.  
By the way, check out creepy-ghosty Lori photo bombing the center. Oooooooo!
We have assembled a fine team of artisans for this little adventure.  Look for some spotlight blogs later this week that will introduce you to each of them.  These talented creators are filling our shop with handmade baskets, pottery, soaps, jewelry, dolls, dresses, scarves, tutus, paintings, and photographs.  That is just the tip of the iceberg.  There is so much more!  It is so exciting.

But, can I be honest?  It's also a bit anxiety-inducing.  As I have sat working in the new studio this week, my mind has wondered.  Mostly for the good, but sometimes I end up thinking about 1 of my 3 fears.  Here they are, in no particular order:

1.  Humiliation by Dance
        It's no secret that when I create, I like to listen to music.  And sometimes it's not folksy-relaxing-shop music.  Therefore, I will probably be using my headphones (well, at least one ear of them) a lot.  And, randomly through the day if so inspired, I dance.  This is all the bee's-knees when I am home alone in my little studio, but now I am going to be out where people can see me.  And it scares me.    : P

2.  Forgetting my Shoes
       I run a sewing machine all day long.  I can't gauge the foot pedal pressure with shoes on.  I've tried, and I end up gunning it, and the stitches go all crazy.  A few times this past week people have came in to the Carnegie and I have went out to greet them....... in my socks.  *sigh*  
I went shoe shopping this weekend. Maybe these lightening-fast babies will be easier to remember.
3.  No One Showing Up
       The title is pretty clear here.  What if Saturday comes and no one walks through that grand swingy door?  All of this work will be for nothing.  All of these treasures won't be discovered.  What if no one "gets" the beauty in buying something that is made by hand rather than picking up a similar, cheaper version at Wal-Mart?

Oh worry, you are not welcome here.  The Big Guy upstairs was pretty clear on this topic, so you best be on your way.  I have an adventure that's waiting.... full of sweet dance moves, slip-on shoes, and many, many wonderful people to meet. 
<![CDATA[Spark]]>Mon, 21 Jan 2013 04:38:41 GMThttp://www.primandposhhandbags.com/loris-blog/sparkI am so happy to announce what I have been working on these past few weeks.  Opening Saturday, February 2nd, will be a little shop full of handmade goodness, also known as "spark."  
I believe that one word encompass what we do.  All of our creativity/ideas come from that spark you feel down deep.  Spark is your inspiration.  Some of the greatest things can grow from just one little spark. 

Everything offered in our shop will be high-quality and handmade.  Over the past few years I have met some amazingly talented artisans.  Some of these wonderful people have chosen to join me on this little adventure.  I absolutely can't wait to introduce them to you.  We have painters, potters, writers, photographers, knitters, basket-weavers, seamstresses, jewelry-makers, and all-around creators.  Oh, and there is also a purse lady....but she's kind of crazy.       

Hours are still being finalized, but we plan to be open Monday-Saturday each week.   The shop will be located at the Carnegie Arts Center in Linton, Indiana.  If you haven't been inside this building, you are missing out. 

It is BEAUTIFUL.  Check it: 
My Prim & Posh studio will also be part of the shop.  (!!!!  See what I mean?!)  I moved my studio last week, and I have already spent a couple of work days at the Carnegie.  My hope is to expand one day soon and offer crafting supplies like paints, fabrics, and patterns.

Oh, and those will be P & P patterns.  

::excited gasp::