sweet child o' mine

I just started an etsy. I'm nervous. And excited, all shook up like glitter and christmas, but mainly, I'm nervous. I know life doesn't go smoothly, but I'd like to see this at least not ruin anyone's day, if that makes sense (i.e., handling other people's money, their expectations). I've been feeling a little down, lately, dragged down by the same-old-same-old. I think this sort of responsiblity is just what I needed. :)

Gah, I always wonder if my art is good enough for sale, or if I should go to art school to polish up, be better. Self-doubt is crippling. I'm trying not to let this be the be-all or end-all. Trying but not succeeding, I should say.

In other news, I was attacked - or would be attacked - by a dog today. The damn thing was loose, sniffing around alongside the road. I was worrying about it following me, getting hit by a car - then it looked up and saw me, and then started that awful, angry-dog barking, and came barrelling towards me. I hate dogs, I think they can smell it, and I started backing up with this one but I was, honestly, terrified shitless. The saving grace of the day was a lady in a silver mini-van that came up the hill honking her horn and running into the curb in front of me, scaring the thing off. I must've looked so scared, how embarrassing, haha. :P

She was nice, though. She pulled up along side me and asked where I was going - I was heading past the house, down to the main street of the town. She suggested I cross the road, which I did while she waited. It was lovely of her, especially since my sleepy-slow existence had been shaken up by that.

Some people from the tyre place saw it, though; a girl came over to ask if I'd been bitten, then to tell me that the dog had been at a few other people before. I guess it was reassuring to know that there would've been witnesses - she said as much - still, I was getting pretty red by then and just wanted to continue into town and do my errands, sigh.

Dog trauma over, I ended up finishing things. Then tonight I made stromboli, with handmade pizza dough (my first time making it). It was a bit flour-y, a little too white, but I enjoyed it. My father didn't touch it - he loathes Italian food with a passion, swore off it for life after a solid few years of it, while he was away working.

This is the title piece in my store. :) Her name is Winnifred Belle. Her little fawn doesn't have a name, yet.