<![CDATA[YYC CRAFTS - Blog]]>Mon, 07 Sep 2026 12:34:48 -0600Weebly<![CDATA[Waiting Mode]]>Mon, 07 Sep 2026 18:07:17 GMThttps://www.yyccrafts.ca/blog/waiting-modeI used to believe life is only as busy as you let it be. For a long time I said no to almost everything, kept things small and quiet, put my family first, and got the household running the way it needed to run. It kept me from feeling buried. It also meant my business barely moved. Eventually, the slow progress frustrated me enough that I started saying yes to things instead. Not all at once, not instantly, but one thing led to another, and eventually I was consistently busy in a way I hadn't been before. Even then, I always protected a bit of wind-down time at the end of the day — a show to watch, something just for me.

Right now, none of that theory is holding up, because I'm in waiting mode. Fuzz needs surgery, and until we hear back from the vet about whether he's cleared for it, my life has rearranged itself around him without asking my permission first. You need a cuddle? Yes. Food? Yes. A treat? Yes. You want me to sing to you? Yes, obviously. If he meows, I'm there.
It's also exhausting in a way that's hard to explain to someone who hasn't been in it. My brain doesn't really shut off — it's running through what he needs, what happens if the surgery can't go ahead, what the consequences of that would even look like. On top of that, I'm worrying about my business, whether I'm keeping up with it enough that people don't forget I'm here, and trying to make sure my family doesn't feel like I've disappeared on them too. I'm cooking less right now. And my body's picked this exact moment to remind me it's still keeping score — my shoulder feels like it wants to freeze up again, and my thoracic outlet issue is flaring along with it.

The one thing that's actually been helping is walking. I've been going most mornings to a park nearby, and it settles my body in a way not much else does right now. Being in nature has always been healing for me. I do have to be careful with my foot — I've got plantar fasciitis on the right side, though changing my shoes and how I stretch has made a real difference. I've gone from barely managing a short walk to 10,000 steps most mornings. I have to be careful not to push it too far.

Being a small business owner already makes it hard to protect time for yourself while still feeling productive. Some days that's easier than others. Today, for instance — I finished a blog post, completed an order, and posted on social media. By most measures, a productive day. I've still got laundry to finish and errands I haven't gotten to, and by this point I'm tired enough that cooking supper feels like too much. I'll probably still make myself do it, because I'll feel guilty if I don't. That guilt shows up whether I've earned it or not.

I think what I'm actually trying to say is that life is busy, and sometimes it's busy because you built it that way, and sometimes it's busy because something landed on you and you didn't get a vote. Either way, you're just trying to catch what you can, bat away what you can't, and every so often you knock one clean out of the park. I don't even watch baseball. But it fits.
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— Anita, YYC Crafts 🌱]]><![CDATA[Getting Shit Done]]>Mon, 07 Sep 2026 01:28:59 GMThttps://www.yyccrafts.ca/blog/getting-shit-doneI'd been putting off a few errands for days — the kind where you have to drive clear across the city, which for me is about half an hour with decent traffic. It's not that I didn't have time. I didn't have the patience for it yet. There's a knowing that shows up in me when it's actually the right day to do that stuff, and until it shows up, I don't force it.

The other day, it showed up. Before I even left the house, I thought to myself, today I'm getting shit done.

First stop was returning our old modem. There was another woman in line ahead of me, and I overheard her say to the person she was with, with satisfaction in her voice — a little bit of triumph even — "we're getting shit done." Same exact words I'd said to myself an hour earlier.

I smiled to myself. Not because it was funny, exactly. More like — yes. Same. Good for you, lady. We're doing it.

It's a small thing, but it stuck with me. All of us out there, running our own errands, carrying our own version of busy, some days catching what life throws and some days just batting it away — and every once in a while you catch a glimpse of someone else in the middle of their own quiet version of getting through it. Turns out you're not as alone in it as it feels most days.

— Anita, YYC Crafts 🌱]]><![CDATA[Asking for Help Isn't Something I Know How to Do]]>Sat, 05 Sep 2026 18:39:22 GMThttps://www.yyccrafts.ca/blog/asking-for-help-isnt-something-i-know-how-to-doSince I was a kid, asking for help has made me feel like I was less. Like needing it meant I wasn't good enough — that if I really had it together, I'd be able to handle it on my own. So I stopped asking. I got good at struggling through things quietly instead, putting on a mask that said I was strong and capable, even when I wasn't. Some of that makes more sense to me now, having only realized at 49 that I'm AuDHD. Some of it was just how I was raised.

But today I'm asking anyway. I need help.

My cat Fuzz needs surgery to remove a bladder stone. It isn't optional, and it isn't something we can wait on. The date got moved up, and there's been more waiting than I expected — a urine test to make sure his body can handle the procedure, a stressful trip to the vet and back that he did not enjoy, and more waiting for results before we know exactly how things move forward. He's been through a lot the past little while, and so have I, just trying to stay steady and calm for him while my own stomach is in knots.

Here's what I'm doing about it: 100% of proceeds from my Friend card line are going straight toward Fuzz's medical bill. If a card isn't what you need right now, there's also a direct donation link —> FUNDS FOR FUZZ

Writing this post already feels like more than I'd normally let myself say. But I'd rather say it than keep pretending I don't need anything, the way I always have. Fuzz has been by my side through a lot. This is just me trying to be there for him the same way.
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— Anita, YYC Crafts 🌱]]><![CDATA[I Just Make stuff and add it]]>Wed, 26 Aug 2026 02:07:57 GMThttps://www.yyccrafts.ca/blog/i-just-make-stuff-and-add-itHere's what designing a new collection actually looks like for me. It starts with a spark — a conversation with someone, or noticing something showing up over and over without me realizing it.

That's how Prairie Roots started. I drive out to the towns around Calgary to restock the stores, and I kept noticing country and western items everywhere — in booth after booth, vendor after vendor. I finally asked a shop manager if the western stuff actually sold. She said yes, without hesitating. That surprised me. I've lived in Calgary basically my whole life, and the only time I really think "western" is during the ten days of Stampede in July. But the more I drove past ranches and farmland, the more it registered — this province is genuinely built on that way of life, I'd just stopped noticing it. I went and visited the Bar U Ranch National Historic Site not long after, and learned more about Alberta ranching and cowboy history than I expected to. Prairie Roots came out of that.

The newest one, Lemons, started differently — a local Calgary business reached out and asked if I had any cards with a lemon on them. I didn't, not yet. I told them I could make one. And then I told them they'd probably just inspired an entire collection, because that's exactly what happened. It's still in the works right now.

Here's the part I'm less proud of. Designing is where my energy lives — I could sit and create new collections around the clock and never get tired of it. It's everything after that trips me up. Once a collection is finished, I make it, I add it to the shop, and that's usually where it stops. I don't tell anyone the story behind it. I don't build it up. I just quietly hope people find it.

I think that's the actual problem — not the cards, not the ideas, just the silence after. I love talking about what I'm making, sometimes maybe too much, with people who already know me. But when it comes to telling someone I don't know about my own cards, I freeze up a little. I never want it to sound like bragging. I love the work, and what I actually want is to share that love — I just haven't figured out how to do that without it feeling like showing off.

So consider this post an attempt at doing it differently. Prairie Roots exists because I finally paid attention to what was already around me. Lemons exists because someone asked, and I said yes. Both of those are good stories. I'm just working on remembering to tell them.
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— Anita, YYC Crafts 🌱]]><![CDATA[Why Plantable cards matter]]>Sat, 22 Aug 2026 18:24:50 GMThttps://www.yyccrafts.ca/blog/why-plantable-cards-matterI started making plantable cards because I wanted less paper waste, and I wanted to be able to give something back to the earth. Gift giving has always been something I love — I've even thought about becoming a personal shopper at some point, just for the joy of finding something unique that someone will actually love. When I landed on seed paper, I knew I was onto something. A card and a gift, all in one. Something someone could give that would actually grow into something beautiful — and along the way, feed the pollinators that keep our ecosystems running.

It's easy to forget how much relies on pollinators until you actually stop and think about it. Bees alone are behind so much of what ends up on grocery store shelves — not just fruit and vegetables, but even the feed crops that livestock rely on, which means beef and dairy too. Not to mention honey, which happens to be one of my favourites. We pick it up off the shelf and rarely think about what it took to get there. A healthy environment for bees and other pollinators isn't optional — it's essential. And something as small as a plantable card, given again and again, adds up to something real.

None of this started with a business plan, though. As a kid, I used to make handmade paper and press flowers into it at school, so by the time seed paper crossed my path as an adult, I already understood the craft — how it's made, what it feels like, what it takes. A lot of people are genuinely surprised when they first hear about seed paper. I never was. It wasn't until much later that I knew I wanted to move my work in a more eco-friendly direction, and having that background made the idea click almost instantly. I never wanted to be left second-guessing whether what I was making was good enough. I wanted to know it was.  

Finding the right supplier took hours of searching, and it wore me down some days. Funny how once you finally find the right thing, it follows you around online for weeks afterward — but that initial search is its own kind of exhausting. You can't just grab the first option that pops up, which is usually Amazon. And look, you can buy seed paper on Amazon. It's cheaper. But is it high quality, traceable, made locally? No. So what exactly are you growing with it?

When I found Botanical Paperworks, it felt like everything clicked. Based in Canada. Six types of non-invasive wildflower seeds. Locally sourced recycled paper, pulled from schools and businesses. Award-winning. Women-owned. They checked every box I had, and then some. For me to stand fully behind what I'm giving people, I need to know my suppliers are standing behind theirs the same way.
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When my first shipment came in and I printed my very first card on that paper, I knew this was it. The paper smells like flowers. The texture is unlike anything else I've worked with. Seeds everywhere in it. The print sits on that texture in a way that just feels like it means more. Pictures genuinely don't do it justice — people pick one up in person and say, wow, this is so much nicer than it looks online, and I just smile, say, "yeah", and think - now you get it too.

What I love most is imagining what happens after someone decides to give one. I wish everyone who received a card would film themselves planting it — there's something so exciting about watching them go into the ground, and even more rewarding watching them grow. I'd love nothing more than getting to share in that moment with the people who plant them.

— Anita, YYC Crafts 🌱]]><![CDATA[The Story Behind My Seed Money Card Collection]]>Sat, 08 Aug 2026 23:52:37 GMThttps://www.yyccrafts.ca/blog/the-story-behind-my-seed-money-card-collectionThe Seed Money Collection Started With a DM

Back in June, I got a message from the owner of Main Street Market. She said she'd been talking with a customer, and together they'd come up with an idea for a card. the line was simple: "I was going to buy you flowers, but all I could afford are the seeds."

I loved it instantly. I told her I was on it.

From there I just started brainstorming. Once I has that first line, more kept showing up - the kind of ideas that come easier once you've found the right tone. I ended up with a full set:

• "I was going to buy you flowers, but all I could afford are the seeds." 
• "I could have bought you flowers, instead I bought you a hobby."
• "Most cards end up in the trash. This one ends up in your garden."
• "A bouquet dies in a week. You're welcome for the upgrade."
• "Other people brought bouquets. I brought potential."
• "Anyone can buy flowers. I gave you an origin story."

Every card in the set has a watercolour bouquet of wildflowers on the front, with the line in black script laid overtop. They've got a bit of a wink to them - funny, but with something true sitting underneath the joke. That combination is exactly what made my Friend line take off. It took the right person to find those cards before they really caught on, and once they did, that became my most popular line. I have a feeling about Seed Money that it's cut from the same cloth.

There's something I like about these cards that goes past the design. They're not limited to one occasion - there's no "for birthdays only" or "just for anniversaries" attached to them. Anyone giving one of these is giving something with a bit of humour, a bit of truth, and an actual living thing on the other end of it. Hard to think of a better excuse not to buy flowers. 🌱

-Anita

Three plantable seed paper cards from the Seed Money collection standing upright on a wooden shelf, each with a watercolour wildflower bouquet and a witty hand-lettered line — including 'I was going to buy you flowers, but all I could afford are the seeds.'
See the Full Collection Here
]]><![CDATA[Living With Thoracic Outlet Syndrome as a Maker]]>Sat, 08 Aug 2026 14:18:42 GMThttps://www.yyccrafts.ca/blog/living-with-frozen-shoulder-and-thoracic-outlet-syndrome-as-a-makerWhat My Body Does (And Why Some Days Are Harder Than Others)

I mentioned in my last post that I'm recovering from a frozen shoulder, on top of something called thoracic outlet syndrome. I said I'd talk more about it another time. this is that post - not the whole story of how I got here, just what a day in this body actually looks like, and why it sometimes gets in the way of the work.

Thoracic outlet syndrome, in plain terms, means the nerves and blood vessels between my collarbone and first rib are getting squeezed. What that means for me, day to day, is that my pinky and ring fingers on both of my hands are numb pretty much all of the time. I get tingling that turns into something closer to a lightning shock running down my arm. My hands go purple more often than I'd like to admit.

The frustrating part is what sets it off. Not big dramatic things - just ordinary parts of my day. Working at the computer, washing dishes, digging in the garden, weeding, picking berries. Anything where my arms are working or my body's bent forward for too long. Which, if you know anything about making cards by hand, is most of what I do.

My body responds to the pain by tightening up to protect itself, except the tightening makes everything worse. The front pulls tight, which pulls my back tight, and by the end of most days the whole upper half of me is sore. I sleep with a hot water bottle most nights just to get my muscles to let go. On the harder days I'll take a muscle relaxant, but those come with a trade - they make me groggy, and getting up the next morning is its own kind of struggle. So mostly I just try to pace myself. Some days that's easier than others.

This is the part of why the gardening I wrote about last time has been slow going - a little digging each day instead of an afternoon of it. It's part of why some card-making days are shorter than I'd plant for, or why a pile of orders takes a bit longer to work through than it would otherwise. I'm not telling you this so it sounds like an excuse. I'm telling you because it's the truth of what running this alone actually looks like - not just the pretty parts. 🌱

​-Anita
]]><![CDATA[Planting Seed Paper Cards: What I learned From My First try]]>Thu, 06 Aug 2026 19:22:53 GMThttps://www.yyccrafts.ca/blog/planting-seed-paper-cards-what-i-learned-from-my-first-tryPlanting the Seed Paper

When you make cards for a living, you end up with scraps. Bits that miss the print, edges that get trimmed away. For years that used to bother me — it felt like such a waste of paper.

That frustration is gone now. When the scraps are seed paper, a misprint isn't waste anymore. It's just something else waiting to be planted. That little shift changed how I feel about the whole process.

This year we had a rainy spring — longer and wetter than forecast. My pots don't have drainage holes, so I had to keep them covered until the soil was dry enough to plant in. That pushed my planting later than I wanted. But the day finally came, and I got the paper in — a bit of soil on top, then a good soak to make sure the paper itself gets wet. There's something about that part I love. You plant it and then you wait, and the waiting is half the excitement.

The first morning after planting, I went out to check and found a peanut sitting in one of the pots. Paper pulled out, scattered across the yard. Squirrels. Or magpies — hard to say who the culprit was. For a couple of days it kept happening, a little more paper dragged out each time. I politely asked one of the local magpies to stay out of my pots. I really do enjoy the company of animals, and I like to think we came to an understanding — whether that's actually why it stopped, I can't prove it. But it stopped.

Around day ten, a few pots started sprouting. I nearly ran outside with my phone — that one made it straight to my Instagram stories. And then, like clockwork, I got a little too relaxed about it. Skipped a watering, then another. The sprouts stalled.

So I got vigilant. Water one day, skip a day, water again. Turns out letting the soil dry out fully between waterings is what got things sprouting again — which tracks, since wildflowers actually prefer it a bit dry. I'm keeping track of everything as I go. Slowly building up what I know about this paper, one pot at a time.

Right now I'm also digging out a section of my front yard for a wildflower oasis — something for the bees and butterflies next year. It's slow going. I'm only able to do a little bit each day while I recover from a frozen shoulder, on top of some thoracic outlet syndrome that's been its own battle. That's a story for another post.

For now, the pots are sprouting and I genuinely can't wait to see what comes up. The seed paper is a mix of six different wildflowers, and I know exactly which ones — I just don't know what any of them look like as seedlings yet. I could easily take a photo and look it up. I'm choosing not to. I'd rather wait and let the surprise happen the slow way.🌱
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— Anita]]><![CDATA[Growing Roots Beyond Calgary]]>Sat, 01 Aug 2026 06:00:00 GMThttps://www.yyccrafts.ca/blog/growing-roots-beyond-calgaryWhen I got my cards into The Hive locations in Nanton and Claresholm, I was so excited. I really believe in these plantable cards — the more people I can reach with them, the more we can make a positive impact together. And I say we because it's not just me. It's every person who buys a card, plants it, and grows something from it.
I'll be transparent — it also doesn't hurt to have a little more income coming in each month. 😄
The Hive was excited to have my cards too, which meant everything.
Then in early 2026 I reached out to The Owl's Nest in Olds. They accepted and I had my fourth retail location. If you haven't been to The Owl's Nest — go. It's beautiful inside.
Shortly after that Main Street Market in Okotoks reached out wanting my cards in their store. While working out that agreement, their other two locations also came on board. Before I knew it I was in seven stores.
It was a whirlwind. I was busy making enough product for all of the locations, driving out to restock them, trying to keep up. Overwhelmed and deeply grateful at the same time.
I should also mention Greenbriar Market — my very first retail partner in Calgary. They believed in my cards before anyone else did and I'm still proud to be there.
Looking back now it's settled into a rhythm. Some months are better than others. But having cards in multiple locations means a bit more money coming in each month — enough to order seed paper without having to wait, without having to stretch. Enough to keep making without the financial stress of wondering when I can afford the next order.
For a one woman show in a basement in Calgary, that's everything. 🌱
— Anita
]]><![CDATA[Let's Talk Markets — What It Actually Takes to Show Up as a Solo Maker]]>Fri, 31 Jul 2026 06:00:00 GMThttps://www.yyccrafts.ca/blog/lets-talk-markets-what-it-actually-takes-to-show-up-as-a-solo-makerA note before I start — this is my experience. I'm not speaking for every vendor out there. Just me, my cards, and my AuDHD brain trying to make it all work.

Finding the Right Market
First you have to find one. I search for markets within my budget and within Calgary — I haven't done one outside the city yet, though that's on the horizon. I sell handmade cards for $10 each, so markets charging $200 or more in vendor fees aren't worth attempting. And honestly it's getting harder to find affordable ones. As markets become more popular I think some people have figured out there's real money in running them — but that's a whole other blog post. 😄
Once I find one worth applying to, I submit my application and then I wait. The waiting is its own kind of anxious. Will they want me? Do I fit? Am I the right vendor for their market? I'm choosy about where I apply — I want markets that genuinely want to help makers get their products out there, not just fill vendor spots.
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Getting Accepted and Getting Ready
Once I'm in, it's payment, vendor information, layout details — things like electricity, wifi availability, what payment methods are accepted. Then the real work begins.
Making the cards.
This takes days. Sometimes more than days. I always want enough — I never want to sell out completely. So I make a lot. Then I'll sell out of one or two designs and think I should have made more of those. But every market is different. A card that flies off the table at one market might not move at another.
Time planning is actually a strong suit of mine. Sticking to the schedule? Thank you AuDHD for that one. 😁
Then it's the setup. Making sure I have everything. My table, my display, my card rack — which I bought so more people could shop at the same time without crowding. I've learned to always ask before bringing it though, because spacing varies wildly depending on the venue. At my last market I got the okay in advance, arrived, looked at the space and realized it just wasn't going to work. So I carried it back to my car, parked a few blocks away.
That's just part of it. Parking, load in, load out — you figure it out as you go.
Setting up always takes longer than taking down. Like putting up a Christmas tree. 

Working the Market
Then you work it.
Smiling. Engaging. Trying to find that limited window where you have someone's attention and make it count.
I like people. I'm just not good at small talk. I've noticed I have a monologue I say to almost everyone — at my last market I realized some other vendors do the same thing. Maybe that's just what we all do when we're trying to connect with strangers across a table.
When it works — when someone listens, falls in love with the cards, gets it — it's amazing. You feel like what you're doing actually matters.
When it doesn't — when someone smiles politely and walks away — I hear a little crack in my chest. I question myself. Wonder what I did wrong. Think about what I could do differently.
Then the next person comes along and they're interested and I'm joyous and grateful all over again.
Each market is a rollercoaster of emotions. By the end I'm usually grateful for having been there — for the people I connected with, the conversations that surprised me, the moments where I felt like I belonged. And others where I felt like the odd duck out. Both happen. Every time.

The Recovery
What most people don't see is what happens after.
For me, a market takes days to recover from. The emotional highs and lows, the small talk, the constant engagement — it's physically and mentally exhausting in a way that's hard to explain unless you've felt it. My AuDHD brain runs hot at markets and needs serious quiet time afterward to come back to baseline.
This is also why I'm choosy. I've gone from avoiding markets entirely to doing two or three a year. For me that's a win.

The Moments That Make It All Worth It
​And then there are the moments that make all of it worth it in a completely different way. At my last two markets, people have actually come up to my table with excitement saying they heard I was going to be there. Someone said "oh I've seen you on Instagram." Another person said "oh you're on IG — I need to let so and so know" and when they went to tag their friend, their friend already followed me.
If I'd never been brave enough to do markets, I never would have heard any of that. It's fricken amazing.
It costs something to show up that fully. But it's also where I get to see my cards in people's hands. Where someone picks one up, reads it, laughs, and says this is exactly what I was looking for.
Worth every crack in the chest to get there. 🌱
— Anita


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