1.) Every child under the age of about ten stops to listen. Or they try to stop; often Mom pulls them away.

2.) Every child under the age of about three stops and then starts dancing. It's pretty much the cutest thing in the world. Their eyes get big, and then their feet start going up and down!

3.) If adults are going to stop and listen, they try not to make it obvious. They stand behind me (city code says buskers can't back up against the store fronts, so there's always a good six feet between my back and the wall,) or they sit on a park bench opposite me and look in another direction, or they slowly walk past me . . . and then past again from another direction . . . (STRANGE!)

4.) My entire left arm started cramping, my fingers hurt, my feet hurt, and I have a headache. BUT I bought myself lunch, went grocery shopping, and have money to spare in my wallet.

5.) My goal is to make more per hour than Joshua Bell did. I'll let you know when this happens. Lesson learned: talent possessed and money earned have approximately NO relationship (STRANGE!).

Not a sewing icon, but close enough.

The Boy loves me deeply and understood my desire for a treadle sewing machine: one which I could operate without mechanical whirring and grinding, one without 364832937 stitch patterns and electric parts.

This machine originally existed in pieces in a box from the thrift store. The cabinet was non-existent. It has since been reassembled, refurbished, and placed in a custom-made red oak cabinet. And I have pictures!



It is beautiful. He worked so hard on it, and when I used it for the first time we were both so happy we were nearly weepy over the damn sewing machine. !

So far, I have almost completed the Edwardian costume I started last August (had to stop because I moved away from my sewing machine!) from the Folkwear patterns for a Gibson Girl blouse and walking skirt. All I have left is to hem the skirt, and sew hook-and-eyes onto the blouse! Pictures forthcoming. Also, I have begun some home-made, er, feminine products. We shall see how this experiment goes.

Finally: BUSKING! I hauled my rear down to the town offices today, where I auditioned for- AND RECEIVED!- a license to busk in the city. I now have a License to Busk, which sounds similar to a License to Kill, but is in fact rather less lucrative.

That's all, folks!

So it was that I found myself once again short on cash and long on things I'd like to spend it on. As a brave and resourceful woman in possession of a fiddle, I decided to take matters into my own hands and sell my skills on the streets of Burlington.

Apparently the hours of practice time I've recently been putting in have dividends.

Busking in Burlington . . . is extraordinarily lucrative. This is only my second time out on the streets; the first time I was with a friend and just took a couple of sets while she warmed up her hands. I had no idea what I'd make in an hour; I don't care to name numbers but it's more than twice what I've ever made at even my highest paying Real Job. And this was for one hour, in the morning, on a cold weekday, with very light foot traffic.

Sweet.

Busking is the first time I've been paid to perform a skill that I've put any amount of time and energy and personal investment into being good at. I love it. I got money, I got compliments, I got the press (I'm NOT kidding although I AM exaggerating; she was new at a local TV channel and was pretty much sent out into the streets to 'get some good footage'), and I got a HUGE adrenaline rush. I also learned just which tunes I know stone cold solid, and which I need to put a few MORE hours into. And the best part was when I got into a zone of playing a tune, and was simultaneously not paying attention to myself at all, it was just coming out effortlessly, and yet could hear myself as if from outside my body and knew I was playing much better than I ordinarily do.

Again, sweet.