A discovery that changed…well, everything!

OK, so I am new to this. What is this? Right now, this is everything happening with tiny by design. Something remarkable happened that has shaped my journey. Out of all that has been changed, perhaps the most significant are my thoughts and beliefs. Collectively, all of this is helping to shape my future and the future of tiny by design. Now, I have a story to tell. It is a story of complete, awe inspiring motivation. I am compelled to tell it for several reasons. One, because if you believe in “meant to be”, “fate”, the “law of attraction”, the “power of positive thinking”…and really, anything along these lines, then you will enjoy and feel good about this story. Second, I HAVE to give credit where credit is due. In this case credit is due to a complete stranger. Someone who I hope will read this one day and realize the influence he has had over one tiny life. This “someone” is an amazing artist by the name of Michael Orwick, who I hope realizes how crazy talented and influential he is…more about this later. Finally, because I wrote what I thought was a kind of funny and perhaps somewhat intriguing blog post about a week ago, I would be just plain silly not to follow up. So here we go…

First, some background information so everything makes sense. I was employed for ten years by a pharmaceutical company. It was a basic story of work hard and be rewarded with a great career and plenty of promotional opportunities. I thought I was one of the lucky ones who got to love their work…until I met my husband and realized that love might have been a strong word for how I felt about my job. Then came the kiddos and it was over. It was all over. My husband and I realized that we needed to enjoy their younger years as much as we could so we took the courageous and scary step of leaving an income behind. So, my life as a stay at home mom was born.

Now, I wouldn’t change this decision for anything, but I love to work. So the wheels started turning and for months I toyed with ideas and tried my hand at new “work at home” opportunities. Nothing felt right. Nothing, that is, until the end of November of 2009. My then one year old daughter and I took a trip into “town” (we live in the country) and found ourselves wandering the local Walmart. Stumbling upon the aisle holding acrylic paint and canvas, I thought about creating some paintings for my daughter's room. Being a “child artist” and for one half of one year an art major, I always had an attraction to the creative process. I had enjoyed painting my daughter’s nursery including a tree on the wall and had said to my husband, “when our kids are in school, I would love to paint murals in children’s rooms.” A very nice thought, but not one that I felt I could take action on immediately. After creating some simple canvas paintings for my daughter’s room, I was hooked. It was perfect. I could spend evenings painting, sell them on a website, stay home with my kids and build a business that one day will be a primary source of income. Sounds easy, right?

Oakley and I cuddled under her tree

Well, as life would have it, the road to building tiny by design hasn’t been “easy”. I will go out on a limb and say that it has been 99.9% enjoyable...but not easy. Working as an artist is pure love. Maybe not the magnitude of love that I feel for my husband and kids…but about as close as you can get. However, the joy of creating art for children is somewhat offset by a few limiting factors. Only one of those limitations is worth mentioning here. This is the severe limitation of a lack of time. I naively thought, after cranking out two ultra simple paintings, that I could produce paintings quickly. As luck would have it, I am not really a fast painter and therefore not qualified to become a one person paint factory. About two weeks after starting this venture, very real and very loud doubts began to creep into my head. Top these doubts off with all the other challenging aspects of running a business…all of which take exceptional amounts of time. Remember, from previous blog posts, the website debacle and the fact that coming into this, I knew nothing about anything but art. Which as it turns out, I have a lot to learn about art and have a lot to do to develop my skills as an artist. I was left with extremely limiting doubts about whether or not I actually had time do this. I started to think that if I had no time, I couldn’t make any money. If I had no money, I couldn’t possibly produce paintings at the quantity or quality that it would take to be successful. Thank God for those close to me. My family has been crazy supportive and my friends, well I can’t believe how fortunate I am to know these people. All are worth mentioning, but for the sake of time and for the sake of getting to the point, I will mention a conversation with one close friend that was the catalyst for this life changing day.

It was a typical afternoon and I was chatting with my friend Kim Salter, author of the popular Design Thoughts Blog. I asked her, innocently enough, how she managed to get so many people to follow her blog. She made a humble point about asking friends and then followed up with the more savvy approach of being an active member of the design world (she is a very successful, talented and inspired interior designer). She mentioned blogging, facebook, twitter and simply networking with designers. I do believe that this conversation ended with one of my children screaming in the background…in other words, very quickly. It seemed like any other friendly conversation, but her words resonated in my mind. I found myself in my studio that night, prepared to paint and grateful that I was able to put “computer and behind the scenes stuff” behind me. Being fairly new and generally inactive on twitter, I thought I would check really quickly to see what other artists had to say. I am not exaggerating when I say, that at this point, I had very little twitter experience. I still have no idea what the lingo is or how to keep up with everything. This night, however, when I logged in I saw a tweet from @fineartamerica announcing a sale of a print from an artist @michaelorwick. Now, keep in mind that I do paintings for children. I had no knowledge of what kind of painter Michael Orwick is or what kind of work he sold (even though I follow him on twitter). Having looked at less than a dozen tweets in my whole twittering experience, I am still in awe of the timing that allowed me see and actually click on this particular tweet. When I did, I was stunned. First, the piece that Michael sold was titled “Story Time”. It is a brilliant painting of Michael’s daughter reading a story to her “friend” who happened to be a dragon. The story she was reading was about a dragon slayer. Seriously, take a look at the painting, because there is no way my description would do it justice. Really, what are the odds that this tweet, of the hundreds on the page, would be about a painting that would appeal to my target audience of children? Seeing this painting changed my entire outlook in two major ways (and probably in millions of minor ways). First, Michael’s ability to capture the imagination of a child is second to none. I am inspired to create better paintings, plain and simple. Also, I want to be in tune with my own children’s imagination to this level. I now hear and picture more than ever before what is going on in the minds of my babies. For example, I overheard Oakley talking in our living room today as she greeted the “princesses” at the door and gave them a “tour” of our house. I was actually able to see what she was likely seeing in her mind. My vision is to put her imagination on a canvas to the level that Michael Orwick has done in so many of his paintings. Please look at his gallery, it is truly a perfect interpretation of a child’s imagination…(he also has amazing landscapes and other types of paintings…but I am hooked on the children’s art, for obvious reasons).

Next, I was introduced to Fine Art America. I will reiterate that I am new to all of this. As it turns out, this online gallery is host to 55,000+ artists…how is it in all my research I had not stumbled upon this? I honestly am perplexed by this. I do believe that events in life happen in the order they were meant to happen and that there is a good reason I developed my business in the way that I have. But, wow, this information would have been useful a while ago. As I did more exploring, I realized the opportunity that exists simply because this company exists. More significant than the opportunity itself is how “the opportunity” erased all my doubts about how it was all going to work out. Gone are the fears that I would need mass amounts of money to “mass produce” prints of my work, gone are the doubts about how I was going to be able to create enough paintings to sell (if I am only capable of 1-2 paintings a month and there are only twelve months a year….do the math…it’s not all that promising), gone is the feeling that I need to get paintings done so I can do more, gone are so many more fears and doubts that have been holding me back… You see, all paintings that I have done and will do are available for sale as prints through Fine Art America. WOW, print on demand…is this a dream come true? I think so! It gets better too! They offer paper and canvas options, framing, matting and a large variety of sizes. They ship all over the country and internationally, handle the payment processing and provided a custom shopping cart for my website. As if this weren’t enough…you can also purchase prints directly through facebook….ahhhhhhh, the options are endless!

tara's alphabet is just one of the paintings for sale as a print...click on the painting to see more! there is also a slideshow of available paintings on the sidebar of this blog.

Will I make a fortune off Fine Art America? Who knows. I’m sure there are artists on this website that have done extremely well (I would love to hear from you!) and I’m sure there are others who will tell me I am wasting my time (I wouldn’t love to hear from you!) Regardless of anyone’s experience, I believe in the power of positive thinking and I believe that if you can dream it, you can do it. This chain of events has lifted so many limiting doubts and fears. It has also opened my mind and creativity to levels that I hadn’t dared to dream about. My vision for my future as an artist, tiny by design’s future as a company and how all of this will influence the lives of my family is growing by the millisecond. I have never felt such energy, such a positive feeling and such knowledge that I have stumbled upon something great. I have also stumbled upon a community of artists and am quickly finding appreciation for so many talented and inspiring people. I feel fortunate to be a part of it. I can’t tell you exactly what my path will be, but I know that I am in the midst of the right journey. Thank you for coming along with me.

Did the earth just move!?...

Can you feel that?!  Is that the Earth moving?  Right under my tiny feet?  No, my feet aren’t tiny, but tiny’s feet are tiny!  And tiny just started taking some very big steps.  tiny by design has had something HUGE happen this week.  It is interesting the way things work out.  It FASCINATES me how the right people and events are where they need to be in life for the plan to unfold…  It is also very interesting how ”ringers”, or  things that you might think you need to happen, don’t work out.   Am I talking in riddles?  Yes, I am.  I am so excited that I can’t help but to put something out there.  This is a story worth telling, in detail…someday.  Someday really soon.  I would like to reveal it at the right time when all is ready to be seen and when all that is to be, JUST IS.  Stay tuned, I’ll be back soon!

I've come a long, long, long way

This is an art blog but I can’t help throwing out a quick personal story. My first thought was to keep it to myself and talk about it with close friends and family. Then I got to thinking about it and how funny the actual event really was and thought maybe I should jot down the details. You know, for memories sake. That’s when a close friend, Kristie (author of Just Being), suggested throwing it in a blog entry. Why not? That way my memories stay somewhat intact and someone, somewhere may actually find it humorous or even relate to it.

this is a map of the island...the race was run on the tiny northern section

My story is about the third annual running of the Beaver Island marathon (their third annual, my first). I decided before my daughter was born that one day, I would like to run a marathon. I actually decided back while running cross country in high school that I would never EVER run a marathon. But something happened to my very pregnant, hormonal self that made me think that this sounded like fun. So, the 175 pound version of myself (Oakley was a 40 pound baby so that’s where all the weight came from...it wasn’t the donuts) set me in motion toward achieving this goal. After she was born, I did some training for a ten mile race and thought “yup, I am definitely doing a marathon”. That’s right, after completing less than half the distance my actual thought was “no problem!” Maybe it was a safe bet because I knew that we wanted to have another baby. That’s at least another whole year, year and a half of not actually having to do it. Then I started talking about it to everyone I knew. Again, my very pregnant self apparently has no ability to or desire to think about what this really means. So, I found myself committed. Truthfully, I did really want to do it and I did naïvely think it would be no problem.

hmmm, I think I'll run a marathon, sounds fun...

I got to that point in training where I was doing 15, 16, 17 miles and thinking “this is tough, how am I going to add 11, 10, 9 miles to these distances”? But, I figured the good people who write these training programs know what they are doing. If I can just complete training, according to these “good” people, I should be just fine. For giggles, I registered to do a trail half marathon the week before my peak run of 20 miles. It’s called “The Legend” and it’s on a beautiful trail that winds around Lake Ovid at Sleepy Hollow State park in Michigan. I had done the 10 mile race the summer after having Oakley. Now, I don’t know who to blame, him or her…but one of my children must have stolen all my power to accurately keep things in my memory. I forgot about the rough terrain, the hills as steep as walls, the people running up so close behind that I swore I would end up in the bottom of the lake. Then there were those people who talked the entire course. The crazy part wasn’t the talking, it was that they were talking all about how awesome they are and how they had run other races in lightening quick times and they had done marathons and triathalons and all the other “athons” you can do… Keep in mind, these people were behind me. So, I hate to be the one to break it to them but, they aren’t that fast. Cause guess what talkers, I am slow, which means you are slow.

Now, all you real runners out there who know this area might scoff at my description of the course (the guy who sold me my running shoes made me feel like this race is equivalent to floating on a lazy river). But the hills were steep to me. Oh, and did I mention that every step of my training to this point was FLAT. As a pancake. I also experimented with some fueling tactics, like the breakfast that weighed heavy on my belly for the first 4 or 5 miles. Then at the 10^th mile, in an act of desperation, I grabbed an energy GU (gel). Now, I had once picked up a running magazine and heard them refer to gels. Other than that, I was completely clueless. My dumb@$$ was doing all my training and placing all my fueling needs on Gatorade. That’s right, Gatorade. And I wonder what (besides the distance) made the training runs so sucky? Anyway, I digress. I grabbed a gel and as quickly as my shaking hands would allow, I squirted the entire content of the pack in my mouth…and almost threw up. What was this stuff? I guess the middle of an extremely difficult race is not the right time to be experimenting with my nutritional needs. So, I finished the race but felt awful. Physically spent. Not a good mental state to put yourself in one week before your longest training run and three weeks before your first marathon.

But, I carried on. After all, I had paid the entry fee (a whopping $90. Why does torture come with such a heavy price tag?), a 50% deposit on a hotel and had Dane take a day off work. Oh, and did I mention that I told everyone I was running a marathon? We were going, no matter what. My last long run (the 20 mile) went surprisingly well (I actually felt like I had a little left, very little, but some nonetheless) and I was back to feeling like I could, in reality, pull this off. I experimented with the gels again and found them to be quite useful. During that last long run, I spaced it out so I had a gel every five miles and Gatorade every fifth mile in between. I had it all figured out…

The two weeks of tapering down felt like I was barely running and left me wondering how prepared I was. How could 20 miles be enough for the longest run when the race was an additional 6 miles? That’s like an extra hour’s worth of running!? Back to the good people who write training programs…they must know what they are doing right? In them and the energy gels, I put my faith… These last few weeks I felt like I had ants in my pants. I just wanted to go and do it and be done already. The mental part of the game was making me tired.

We picked Beaver Island because Dane and I had taken Biology classes there when we were at CMU. We had always talked about going back and thought the marathon was the perfect reason. We planned on running together and had the perfect plan to stagger our runs so we both had time to fit them in. It was the perfect plan…until an old injury popped up on Dane and he was unable to continue with the training. So supportive is Dane that he insisted I keep going and he would be the supportive husband and amazing dad that he is. I am so grateful that we didn’t think the trip through too much (at least I didn’t, Dane is the careful type so I’m sure he knew full well what he was getting into). I won’t really get into the details of the travels, that would be another topic for another time…but if you have ever traveled with an almost 3 year old and a 1 year old then you know. You know that a three hour car ride, followed by a two hour ferry ride ending in a hotel room with no air conditioning on one of the hottest and most humid days of the summer…not a good time. Plus, our kids don’t sleep in cars, Dane got a little seasick on the way over and Truman blew a diaper out getting “poo poo” all over my shorts and shirt …Thankfully, being on an island in the middle of Lake Michigan has benefits and everything calmed and cooled down by nighttime. Also, I gotta say, I am blessed with a little family of troopers.

oakley took this pic while we waited for the ferry

oakley and daddy making the most of a choppy ride

This brings us to marathon morning. I did most of my training runs in the morning before the kiddos got up for the day, so my internal biological clock along with my excitement and anticipation made me wake at 4:30 in the morning. Wow, not a lot to do on the island at 4:30 in the morning. Thankfully, I drifted back off till about 6 and felt fairly energetic when I got up. I wanted to eat early so I popped out of bed and sat down with my power bar and a surprise gift from my best girl friend, Kristie, (not to be opened till race day) to watch the sunrise. By the way, the “hotel without air” had an amazing view of the harbor (hence the name Harbor View Hotel!). I thought the sunrise looked a little bleak until I noticed a brilliant flash of light. Oh, wait a second, that wasn’t the sun. Thunder and lightning surrounded the island as I felt my nerves coming a bit unglued. I opened my special surprise and found the coolest necklace inside. There were two ovals on a chain. One oval had the figure of a female runner etched into it and the other had the numbers 26.2. It was just what I needed. With calmed nerves, I went about the morning getting the kids up and being grateful for the support of my little family and all my friends.

So, in the pouring rain, I left our hot little hotel room to head down the road for the start of my first marathon. Everyone was gathering in a tiny church hall to stay dry before the inevitable drenching. By the time I got there, I was freezing and alone. Anyone who knows me knows that I don’t warm up easily…and we’re not talking temperature here, people! I hate being in the middle of a room of strangers where everyone seems to know someone and it’s glaringly obvious that I know no one. Working a room…not my strong suit. Minutes ticked by and I occupied myself with some last minute stretching and trying to make it look like I knew what I was doing. Finally, the runners started to file outside, to be greeted by the cold rain and gray skies (which, by the way, I would take over heat any day of the week and twice on race day). I couldn’t have been more excited than I was when we walked up to the sounds of Eminem singing “you better lose yourself in the music the moment you own it you better ever let it go…” I would just put the name of the song but I don’t know it and am far too lazy to look it up. The moment got even better when the priest decided to say a prayer with Eminem blaring in the background. Just the crazy contrast I needed! I loved it so much I felt like I could cry. We’re talking real tears here.

my little family watched the race through the rain from our hotel window

blowing kisses! i finally saw my sweethearts at mile 16

So I am going to skip forward a bit and summarize the first 13 miles as very rainy (a nice cool blessing!), the next three miles got a little lonely (I hadn’t seen my family yet and there was literally no other runner in sight), the next seven miles were hopeful (I was getting slower but still feeling good) and then I got to number twenty three. Okay, so I had heard of the wall. I even thought about what hitting the wall might feel like. I was completely unprepared for the crazy animal instincts that kicked in once I smashed into the wall. I was honestly hungrier than I have ever been. The people of Beaver Island are lucky that this course was so remote or they would have had a beggar on their hands. Had it been one of those busy marathons, like Chicago or something, I would have dove into crowd and wrestled a hot dog out of a child’s hands. I couldn’t get images of pizza and burgers out of my head. If I never saw another gel again it would have been too soon. At the same time, I was cursing myself for not grabbing one at the last aid station. Apparently my gel every five mile strategy didn’t work out so good. Note to self, “self, you should have trained for this”. This was a bad strategy. I hit the ultimate low right after passing the 24^th mile marker. By the way, this course consisted of a small loop and a big loop. The big loop was essentially running out five miles and coming back, on the same road, five miles. There were more mile markers posted than street signs in a crowded neighborhood. The first time I did the big loop and glanced at the 24^th mile marker, I couldn’t help but to dream about how awesome that point would feel. I have never been so grossly off on anything in my whole life. When I saw this marker again, I actually had to physically stop myself from diving into and eating the vegetation on the side of the road. All I wanted was food.

this was the image in my brain during miles 23 and 24

finally, the final turn...i could literally see the finish. and people eating drinking. i no longer wanted to tackle them, i just wanted to join them!

Then something happened that changed everything. I still don’t know what it was, but I hit mile 25 and I felt totally fine. I picked up my pace and finished the race close to the pace I started with. It felt great. That is, it felt great until I stopped and had a difficult time feeling normal. Now, one of the thoughts that I had that kept me going through the entire race was the description the event coordinators offered: “After your race enjoy a ‘dip’ in the cool, pristine waters of Lake Michigan! The race ends on a Lake Michigan Beach! As you emerge from your quick swim enjoy a cold beer and pizza compliments' of the Beaver Island Chamber of Commerce.” Is this not the most blissful sounding race end that anyone can imagine? So, I bravely marched up to the keg. Then I saw the orange slices and immediately remembered my extreme hunger. I started grabbing oranges slices by the handfuls and literally shoving them in my mouth…oh the sweet taste of food! Within minutes, I was feeling better and decided to fulfill my dream of finishing the race and enjoying an ice cold beer. It was fantastic! Maybe the best beer I have ever tasted. It wasn’t until I heard the beer lady in the background calling out “come get your Blue Moon” that I realized the orange slices that I gobbled up like a ravenous pig were garnishes for the beer…and I ate them all. Oh yeah, and did I mention that this race was tiny and the crowd was very aware of what was going on. I turned around and noticed, to my horror, that the orange slice tray had been conveniently moved from public grasp…oops.

I have to digress for just a moment before I wrap this “not so short” story up. The night before the race my amazing and ultra supportive husband asked if I thought I would ever run another marathon. My answer was that I probably would. I would like to fulfill the plan of us running one together one day. When we met at the finish, the first thing I said to him was “the answer is no…to your question last night, the answer is no. I will never do this again”. Miles 23 and 24 were too fresh in my mind. It was much later that I remembered that I actually do love to run. I wish I had greeted him with something more positive....but oh well, I didn't. He understands. He's that kind of guy. We spent the rest of the day and evening just hanging out with the kids, taking a dip in the pool and relaxing. The next day was pretty much a repeat of the travel and then home!

more boat fun on the way home

Monday was labor day so we spent some time together just kind of doing our thing. I decided to google a plan on how to recover from a marathon. As it turns out, this is something that should be done before actually running the race. Again, oops. I didn’t do a single thing on the list of things to do upon completion of the race. Instead of keeping my legs loose, I instantly sat down. Instead of hydrating, I drank beer. Instead of stretching, well, I didn’t stretch…at all. I thought I was a planner, but apparently everything ended when I crossed the finish line. So now here I sit, four days later, and I have come full circle. I do want to run another marathon…someday. I feel like my initial reaction was to curse the whole thing because of two very tough miles. What about the fact that the other 24 felt great? The competitive person in me can’t help but to think that with the proper fuel I can do better. By the way, the "good people" who write the training programs are good people. I felt physically and cardiovascularly prepared to complete the race. There are lots of good programs out there but I followed one by Hal Higdon - in case your interested. He offers amazing resources and training programs for all different distances and levels of experience.

At first I wasn’t going to share my time. Truth be told, I have no reference to whether or not my time is good. I left thinking I would be happy around four and a half hours. I finished the first half in two hours and five minutes…so, I naturally got ahead of myself and began thinking that I wouldn’t be happy unless I was around four hours and ten minutes. My first thought when I rounded the final corner and saw the clock (at my original "happy time" of four hours thirty one minutes) was disappointment. Before I even crossed the line I was doing the math on how long it took me to finish the second half. But truth be told, now that everything has settled and I have regained some perspective, I am simply happy for the experience. I am so very grateful to have the health to have finished at all. I can’t thank my husband enough for getting up with the kids every Saturday morning so I could complete my long runs. I was so happy to have the special necklace around my neck the entire race (I think I reached up and touched it no fewer than 1,000) times. I am so grateful to my family for supporting me and for making such a sacrifice to travel all that distance so I could do this. I am thankful to anyone who actually makes it through my not so short story!

I will leave everyone with one parting thought…a lesson to take from all of this…if you want to do something, you can do it. But, it’s better if you don’t eat the garnishes!