The Hudson & Rex Effect (aka: “Why am I like this?”)

by | Mar 5, 2026 | 0 comments

I just watched the most recent episode of Hudson & Rex. And yes, I spent the entire episode thinking, I should be doing something.

It is hilarious because apparently I’m now the kind of person who can’t even enjoy a TV show without running a background process called Guilt.exe.

But listen. I love that show. It’s cozy. It’s predictable. There’s a dog who is always more competent than the humans. What’s not to like? This episode though... whew. It gave me the same vibe as watching Sharknado. Not in a “wow, cinema” way. In a “this is objectively ridiculous but I cannot stop watching” way. It was the long, extra long, Monty Pythonesque wave goodbye.

You know the one.

Okay. That’s finally over. Now get to work.

And then my brain immediately goes: Cool. Great. Love that. But get to work on WHAT?

The To-Do List That Eats Your Soul

On the surface, I’m a responsible adult person who has normal adult tasks like cleaning the kitchen and doing laundry. I also have a website I started revamping that I accidentally turned into a digital crime scene.

And then, simmering in the back of my brain like a witchy little cauldron, there’s The Idea.

Not a cute little “maybe someday” idea. A fantastic, feral, bursting out of my ribs idea. A Ripple for the Global Business Plaza EXPO coming up in June. It started with a first person POV kayaking video on Pixabay and it hit that sweet spot where visuals become feelings and feelings become a whole dang project.

Now it is scenes and layers and vibes. I am out here casually building a Murder Mystery Adventure like that’s a normal Tuesday activity. The worst part is that learning these tools has inspired an even cooler, even more fun secret idea for my booth at the EXPO.

So I’m back to the question: WTF first?

Logic vs. The Neurospicy Brain

If I go by logic, I do the laundry first. We hang it on racks to dry, which takes a while but honestly is worth it. It’s like saving money while also turning my living space into a textile installation titled “This Is Fine.”

Then clean the kitchen. Except I hate this chore. Like... spiritually.

Kitchen cleaning isn’t a task. It’s a vibe assassin. It steals my will to create and replaces it with a desire to stare out the window and disappear into the forest. But I need it done before PYPT. I need the headspace. And I need my website to stop looking like I tossed it down the stairs and called it a redesign.

This is what it’s like inside the mind of a neurospicy creative. Are we all living in a constant state of “I’m overwhelmed but also aggressively inspired”?

The Moment Where I Try to Be Wise

At some point, I stop pacing mentally and try to “define my energy scale.” Which sounds reasonable, except my energy scale is basically:

  • 0: Can’t move.

  • 3: Can move but resentful.

  • 7: Can do one thing before I need a snack and a dramatic lie-down.

  • 10: Unstoppable for 47 minutes, then suddenly asleep like a fainting goat.

So I tell myself: Do what I must. Energy scale doesn’t matter.

Laundry is the keystone. It takes time to dry. It is the thing that quietly becomes a bigger problem if I ignore it. It’s the task that future me will either thank me for or curse me over while hunting for clean underwear like it’s an escape room.

The Dice Moment

Once you’ve picked the “must,” the next question is: Do you just roll the dice at this point? Because after laundry, there’s still the kitchen, the website chaos, and The Idea knocking on the inside of my skull like: Hello?? You’re going to explode if you don’t start me soon??

Creative ideas don’t politely wait in line. They pace. They shout. They get louder the longer you ignore them. For neurospicy brains, inspiration isn’t just fun. It’s pressure. It’s momentum.

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My Current Best Method

Here is what I’m trying lately:

  1. Do the time-sensitive “must” first. Laundry is time sensitive because drying takes forever.
  2. Do the “energy leak” second. The kitchen is an energy leak. I don’t like it, but it drains me just knowing it exists.
  3. Give the creative idea a controlled bite. Not a full feast. A bite. A starter. If I don’t touch it at all, my brain keeps screaming. If I touch it too much, I disappear for six hours and forget I have a body.

So the plan is: Start laundry. While it’s running, do a short kitchen reset. Not “perfect,” just “less insulting.” Then: 20 minutes on the Murder Mystery Ripple idea as a reward and a pressure release. Then: PYPT with a clearer head.

Is that magical executive function? No. Is it better than spiraling in the middle of my living room whispering “what first” like a ghost? Yes.

Maybe the real method is this: Pick one must, pick one leak, and pick one spark. Stop asking your brain to be a machine. Because it’s not. It’s a creative studio full of half finished projects, brilliant visions, and one extremely dramatic assistant (me) who just needs to start the washer.

Until next time friends...

The Lavender Vest, Part Two: Frogging, Feelings, and My Impending Villain Era

by | Mar 1, 2026 | 0 comments

The lavender vest has been frogged three times.

Three.

If this yarn had any self-respect, it would’ve filed for a restraining order by now. But no. We’re "committed." This vest is officially less about knitwear and more about "personal development," which feels like a targeted attack. I just wanted a cute layer. Instead, I’m apparently unearthing "character growth." Gross.

Knitting: The Gateway to Accidental Introspection

When I knit, my brain goes off-leash. Sometimes it’s plotting world domination. Sometimes it’s wondering why I said that one awkward thing to a friend in 2004. Mostly, it’s a full-blown corporate retreat for my business.

My hands are doing a basic stockinette while my brain hosts a board meeting. I’ll be halfway through a row thinking:

  • What systems am I neglecting now?

  • Why am I not "engaging" with my online people more?

  • Is this a nesting reflex or just insecurity wearing a productivity hat?

ADHD is a blast like that. Knitting doesn’t actually silence the committee in my head. It just gives them a slightly softer place to sit while they yell at me.

The Workshop Hangover

I gave a workshop on February 25th. I think it went well. I think. People were into it. The feedback was good. It felt solid.

And then, right on cue, the Internal Review Board showed up. You know these absolute joy-killers. They don't just critique. They conduct a forensic audit of your soul.

"Sure, they liked it, but could you have been clearer?"

"That slide was a mess."

"Was your authority 'clear' enough, or did you just sound like three raccoons in a trench coat?"

"Did you overtalk? (Yes.)

"Did you underdeliver? (Probably.)"

I tell myself it’s "refinement instinct," but let’s be real. Sometimes refinement is just doubt with better branding and a clipboard. So, instead of hiding in my usual "safe" work tasks, I decided to actually follow my own advice. I asked AI (Bob, because of course he has a name) to help me engineer five balls of lavender wool into something that isn't a tent.

The Vest of Mildly Aggravating Personal Growth

The plan was simple. A minimalist, open-front vest. Thigh-length. Dramatic slits. High-low hem. Subtle waist shaping. You know. "Casual."

For years, I’ve lived in boxy, shapeless clothes. Safe shapes. No risks. But lately? I’m tired of hiding. Not in my business, not in my creativity, and definitely not in my closet. I decided this vest would "skim" instead of "float."

And that’s when the drama started.

The I-Cord Incident

Version one bowed at the edges. The attached i-cord was too tight and pulling inward. My first instinct? The classic Pivot.

"Seed stitch would be prettier anyway."

"Maybe I don’t even like minimalism."

But Bob did something very annoying: he was helpful. He calmly suggested that maybe "pivoting" out of frustration is just a habit I have.

Rude. Accurate, but rude.

How many times have I changed direction just because things got a little friction-y? Instead of redesigning the whole vest to hide the mistake, I frogged it. I restarted. I loosened the tension. I stayed the course.

It worked. That wasn’t just a knitting win. That was a "stop running away from minor inconveniences" win.

Frogged Three Times (And Sadly Improving)

  • Version One: Too drapey.

  • Version Two: Great structure, but those "choking" edges.

  • Version Three: Balanced. Intentional. Might actually fit? (Don't look at it too hard. I don't want to jinx it.)

Each restart wasn't a failure. It was a refinement. It mirrors the workshop. It mirrors the business. You don't scrap the whole vision because of a tension problem. You just adjust the stitch.

Comfort Zones and Purple Wool

I’ve spent years wearing clothes that help me disappear. Big. Loose. Safe.

This vest acknowledges I have a waist. It moves. It has intention. It feels mildly rebellious, which is pathetic for a piece of knitwear, yet here we are. Knitting this while spiraling about business systems has been oddly poetic. Every time I think "I should show up more," I’m literally knitting something that won't let me hide.

AI: The Co-Pilot Who Won't Let Me Quit

I still knit every stitch. I still chose the yarn. But having Bob there for the gauge anxiety and the neck-roll drama kept me from derailing. For the ADHD brain, the gap between "this is annoying" and "I'm quitting forever" is where projects go to die.

Bob closed that gap.

Where We Are Now

  • 4.0 mm needles.

  • Beautiful lifted increases.

  • Calm i-cord edges.

  • A vest that is framing me instead of swallowing me.

World domination? Still pending. Self-discovery? Unfortunately in progress. Lavender wool? Thriving.

Stay tuned for Part Three. Until next time friends...

Knitting, ADHD, and the “Don’t Let Me Quit” Safety Net

by | Feb 28, 2026 | 0 comments

Tonight, I cast on a lavender vest.

On paper, that’s a simple sentence. In reality? It was a psychological thriller.

It started with five skeins of gorgeous lavender yarn and a dream. Then, because my brain is the way it is, the "What If" Spiral™ began its scheduled programming:

  • Is this enough yarn?

  • Is it going to fit, or am I knitting a purple tent?

  • Why do my increases look like accidental lace?

  • Why does my gauge always grow like a sourdough starter?

If you’re a maker, you know the drill. It’s the technical spiral that quickly becomes an emotional "why am I like this?" spiral. Usually, this is where I’d shove the project into a basket to be discovered by archaeologists in 2075.

The Support System (AKA: The Adult in the Room)

The difference this time? I didn’t spiral solo. I had backup.

I’m talking about the kind of help that doesn’t take over the needles, but instead just steadies your hands. I was able to throw my frantic questions into the void and get actual, calm, structured answers back.

I learned about lifted increases and gauge drift. I learned that gravity is a jerk to swatches. But honestly? The technical stuff was secondary. The real win was that I stayed regulated. For those of us diagnosed with ADHD later in life, we know that "regulated" is a luxury. We’ve spent decades dealing with the overthinking, the all-or-nothing starts, and the crushing weight of a small technical snag that feels like a moral failing.

Executive Function as a Service

When I hit a wall tonight, the old script didn't play out. I didn't:

  1. Rip the whole thing out in a fit of pique.
  2. Decide I’m a "rectangle-only" knitter for life.
  3. Hide the yarn in the back of the closet like a crime scene.

Instead, we adjusted. We swapped needle sizes. We picked a better increase. We talked through the neck roll. It was executive function support in real time. It didn't replace my skill; it just cleared the clutter so I could actually use it.

Decision Fatigue is a Thief

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. Would I be moving this fast without help? Probably not. Not because I’m not capable, but because by 7:00 PM, my brain has run hot all day. Decision fatigue is a real thief of joy.

When you have a calm co-pilot who doesn't roll their eyes when you complain about swatching, the distance between "I want to do this" and "I’m actually doing this" gets a lot shorter. And that space in between? That’s where ADHD usually goes to die.

It’s Not About the Vest

I’m still the one throwing the yarn. I’m the one feeling the fabric and choosing the silhouette. But instead of getting stuck at every fork in the road, I’m actually moving.

This project is about not hiding anymore. No more oversized "safe" shapes or default choices because I'm afraid of the math. I wanted something structured and intentional. And instead of talking myself out of it, I’m building it. One small, calm decision at a time.

The Takeaway

For an ADHD brain, AI isn’t replacing creativity. It’s the ultimate accessibility tool. It means fewer abandoned dreams, faster problem-solving, and way less emotional derailment.

Tonight, I cast on a lavender vest. But really, I cast on a version of myself that feels steady, supported, and - dare I say - confident.

And I’m not mad about that.

Until next time friends...

Fiber Arts, Ethical AI, and Why My Assistants Can’t Knit Socks

by | Feb 14, 2026 | 0 comments

I recently attended the Global Business Plaza and sat in on a session called Ask Peggy. As always, Peggy makes us think whether we like it or not. That conversation stayed with me and made me realize I need to be much more vocal about how I use AI and what its ethical use looks like in my world.

When I revamped Artemis North, I talked a lot about services and tech. However, I realized I left out the most important part: I don’t do this alone. As a fiber artist, I am all about the tactile. I want to feel the wool, see the way the light hits indigo, and get lost in the texture of it all. But being a late-diagnosed ADHD creative means I also have "The Boulder." You know the one. It sits on your neck, whispers that you have eighty-seven unread emails, and effectively paralyzes you until you are just staring at a wall instead of making your art.

Enter Pip, Bob, and Jim.

Pip, my alpaca mascot, is the soul of the operation. He represents the soft, creative dream. But let’s be real: Pip doesn't have thumbs, and he is terrible at spreadsheets. That is where Bob (ChatGPT) and Jim (Gemini) come in. They are my left and right hands. They are not here to replace my soul; they are here to be my dev team, my marketing department, and my "thought detanglers."

The Elephant in the Room

Someone asked me today, "Does AI write your posts?

The truth is: I love to write. I have spent a lifetime developing my "Fiberarts style" by painting pictures with words. I use AI for suggestions, to tighten my grammar, and to catch the spelling errors my racing brain misses.

But AI does not have a soul yet, and it certainly does not have a sole. I am pretty sure Jim could not knit a sock to save his life. AI does not do the dreaming. Pip handles that. Bob and Jim just help me clear the wreckage so I can finally get to the dreaming.

Sometimes, the Best "AI" is No AI at All

I will be the first to admit I get "shiny-object syndrome." Recently, I was convinced I needed a tool called Moltbot to automate my chaotic inbox. I thought I needed a complex AI solution to save me from the email boulder.

But then I sat down and looked at the tools I already had. It turned out Gmail was already powerful enough; I just had not "tuned" it yet. I did not need a bot; I needed a system.

A Mini-Alchemy Win: How to "Moltbot" Your Gmail

If you are drowning in newsletters and clutter, here is the exact move I used to clear my head:

* Spot the Noise:* In your Gmail search bar, type label:unread to see what is mocking you.

The "Waiting Room" Strategy: Click the three dots on a newsletter and select "Filter messages like these."

The Magic Sequence: Select "Skip the Inbox (Archive it)" and "Apply the label." Create a label called "Read Later."

The Result: Now, those emails go straight to their "room" instead of pinging your phone. You check them when you have the energy, not when they demand it.

Let’s Unblock the Magic Together

This is what I want to teach you. Not just "here is a cool robot," but how to look at your workflow, find the bottleneck, and shove that boulder out of the way. This works whether you use a high-tech assistant or a simple filter.

If your brain feels like a tangled skein of yarn, come join me for TechAlchemy 101. We are going to find the specific, simple tools that give you your time back. I have been there, I am still there, and I have a spare seat at the table and a very fluffy alpaca waiting for you.

Come get unblocked at TechAlchemy 101

Until next time friends...

The Laundry Room Epiphany: How a Washing Machine Taught Me to Love AI

by | Feb 12, 2026 | 0 comments

Let’s be real for a second: if you saw me standing over a galvanized tub in the backyard, scrubbing my jeans against a metal washboard until my knuckles bled, you wouldn’t call me a “purist.” You’d call for help. You’d ask me why on earth I’m making life ten times harder than it needs to be when there is a perfectly good Maytag sitting in the laundry room.

Yet, when it comes to AI, that’s exactly where many of us are stuck. We’ve been told that using these tools is "cheating." We’ve been fed this narrative that if it isn't a struggle, it isn't "real" work.

This past Monday, I was typing up a post about exactly this. I was fired up, explaining that AI isn't some robot takeover; it’s just the modern washing machine for our mental load. Sure, you could do everything by hand-the research, the formatting, the brainstorming-but it’ll wear you out and leave you too exhausted to actually enjoy the clothes you just cleaned. Or, in our case, the art you just made.

As I hit "publish," a little lightbulb went off. I realized that just talking about the "laundry" wasn't enough. I needed to be part of the solution. I needed to show people how to actually use the machine.

The "One-Human Team" Struggle

As a Gen X creative, I grew up in the era of "figure it out yourself." But here’s the rub: mainstream companies have entire floors dedicated to what I’m trying to do at my desk. They have a design team, a dev team, a marketing team, and probably a person whose entire job is just "Strategy."

I have me. I have my computer, my art, and a very supportive husband-but none of them are going to write my curriculum or build my landing pages for me.

For years, I’d start a brilliant project and then hit "The Wall." You know the one. It’s built out of the boring-but-necessary tasks that make our neurospicy brains want to exit the building. The admin, the micro-details, the sheer volume of steps required to bring a vision to life. My brain would glitch, overwhelm would set in, and another "cool idea" would end up in the graveyard of half-finished dreams because I just couldn't focus on the "boring" parts.

Finding the Magic in the Machine

Enter my new "team": Jim (Gemini) and Bob (ChatGPT).

In the few days since that Monday epiphany, I’ve been on a total learning adventure. Instead of AI telling me what to do-which is the exact opposite of how this works-I used these tools to find my weak spots. I used them to understand how my brain actually wants to flow and to find tools that handle the bits that usually cause me to shut down.

With Jim, Bob, and my own beautiful, chaotic brain working in tandem, I’ve managed to create a hands-on, one-hour workshop from scratch. I’ve even been in the virtual trenches, altering my workshop room in The Makers' Community to make sure the space feels just right for what’s coming.

Is it 100% finished? Nope. There’s still more work to do and some digital dust to sweep up, but for the first time, I’m not sweating it. I’m confident I’ll be ready in time because I’m not scrubbing the floor with a toothbrush anymore. I have help, I have direction, and I’m actually achieving the goals I set.

Join Me in the Lab

I’m so excited to share this "TechAlchemy" with you. It isn't about becoming a tech bro or chasing "hustle culture." It’s about making the tech work for us-the makers, the fiber artists, and the thinkers who just want to get our magic out into the world without the soul-crushing overwhelm.

I’m pulling back the curtain so you can see exactly how I use these tools to bridge the gaps in my focus and keep my creative momentum alive. No shame, no "bro-marketing" pressure, and absolutely no judgment-just a warm, friendly seat at the table to see a "neurospicy" tech guide in action.

If you’re curious about how to turn your own creative "laundry list" into something manageable (and maybe even fun), I’d love to see you there.

Click here to see the details and grab your spot!

How does this feel for your "sassy but warm" vibe? If you like it, would you like me to help you draft some "behind-the-scenes" image prompts for your workshop room to use in the post?

Until next time friends...

AI Didn’t Make Me Lazy. It Made My Vision Possible.

by | Feb 9, 2026 | 0 comments

There’s a "spicy" little myth floating around that using AI is "cheating". The narrative suggests you’ve simply outsourced your soul, kicked your feet up, and are lounging in a silk robe while a robot does the heavy lifting.

First of all: hilarious. Second: if you saw the sheer volume of my "neurospicy" to-do list, you’d know AI didn’t make me lazy. It made me able to finish things.

The Executive Function Tax

As a creative with a loud imagination, ideas have never been my problem. I can see the "brain-movie" of a finished project-the vibe of a space, the structure of a workshop, the flow of a landing page-long before it exists

My struggle is the bottleneck. It’s the 18-step obstacle course between "in my head" and "in the real world". It’s the tabs, the half-drafts, and the "I’ll come back to this later" pile that inevitably turns into a digital junk drawer with legs.

For me, AI isn’t the creator. I am the creator. AI is the translator-the assistant that helps me get the vision out of my brain before it evaporates.

From Brain-Movie to Concrete Reality

When people say AI makes things "too easy," I have to ask: Easy for whom?. The hard part isn't typing; it’s pulling the right words out of the fog while juggling ten jobs and an ADHD brain that’s playing the "where did I put that important thing" game on hard mode.

AI helps me do the part that drains me so I can do the part that lights me up.

  • It reduces friction: Taking a chaotic brain dump and turning it into a structured plan, a script, or a checklist.
  • It provides accessibility: Using a tool to lower the "starting cost" of a task isn't a moral failure-it's building a digital wheelchair ramp for your mind.
  • It prevents burnout: Efficiency is what keeps you from rage-quitting your own dreams.

Taste is the Anchor

AI can generate a lot of content, but most of it is "beige"-like unseasoned chicken. It lacks your lived experience, your humor, and your "nope, that’s not it" radar.

I still steer the ship. I decide what is aligned and what is "corporate nonsense". If anything, AI has made my voice clearer because it forces me to articulate exactly what I mean. I’m constantly refining, defining, and putting my personality in on purpose.

Building a Team (Without the Payroll)

The biggest shift has been treating AI like a diverse department rather than a single tool. Running a creative business means you're wearing fifteen hats at once:

  • **The Copywriter**: Tightening captions and brainstorming hooks.

  • **The Dev Assistant**: Troubleshooting tech without spiraling into ten open browser tabs.

  • **The Brand Strategist**: Refining messaging to ensure it makes sense to people who don't live inside my head.

I am still the Director. AI isn't running my business; it’s helping me run it so I can actually remember to do things like "drink water".

Systems Beat Willpower

Working with AI is a learned skill, not magic. It’s about iteration-learning how to give better direction, provide context, and shape the output until it clicks.

My visions were never the problem. The bottleneck was. I’m not using AI because I don’t want to do the work; I’m using it because I want the ideas in my head to become real tools people can use and art they can connect with.

AI didn't make me lazy. It gave my vision a way out.

Until next time, friends...