Knacks of Knickery & other observations

"Tell me what you're feeling."

3:45 AM SATURDAY:

So I was just admiring a local blogger's site, MrsPriss.com. She makes me snicker inwardly at her amused discoveries of parenting. Mostly, her recounting of her toddler's discoveries of the world.

And her site also connects to her Etsy page, where she makes these adorable knacks of knickery. I don't often compare my blog to other people's but the stark difference between our sites got me thinking about what I could do to really draw in , you know, my readers. My audience. Because I kind of feel responsible the both of you to help make a connection to my world.

And that's when it hit me: I should be making adorable knacks of knickery.

While the as-of-yet under-appreciated tampon art hasn't done much in the retail arena, and I don't know much about taxidermy, I focused on another medium I had in vast quantities. And BAM! It hit me. I do have a rather impressive assortment of wine corks.

That's eclectic, right? Whenever we finish a bottle of wine, I sort of stick them away.Casually. In my gallon-sized Ziploc bag in the drawer marked "Wine Corks ONLY." It's a relatively new collection-- maybe a month or so-- but I figure there's got to be something I can do with 1,600 wine corks.

I could make hair clips out of them. That would be pretty chic. I'm sure the residual scent could be alluring. And who doesn't appreciate the musky smell of cheap wine?

Or, googly eyes, perhaps? YES! I could sell wine buddies, and they could be held in the palm of your hand. And maybe I could Sharpie in something inspirational on each one, something we all experience with wine enjoyment:
Laughter.
Dreams.
Drunken Historical Revisionism.

And see, they'd be different than typical worry stones or pocket goddesses because THESE little babies take it one step further. In a therapeutic way, you could release your stress by talking to your wine cork and there'd be the feeling of real connection because the wine cork would be making googly-eyed contact with you the whole time. (As long as you weren't shaking it or whatever.) And each cork would carry a bit of my DNA (you know, from that whole sucking-the-cork-to-the-last drop thing).

So anyway. Let this be a lesson: Instead of cursing it, EMBRACE Insomnia. Because that is when the genius happens.