What really happened, Birte, or Berit? Did you think sewn bags...?

Once upon a time there was a lady who had a dream to start an online store and devoured all the courses on how to do it to get started...

Yes, I could start my very first blog post like that, but it wouldn't be entirely true. The truth is that I have NEVER had a dream of starting an online store, but I have taken an incredible number of courses. All kinds of courses... Then it stopped there...for a long time...and there were a thousand reasons for that. Maybe...

Anyway, now I'm sitting here. Sitting here as a fresh-faced online store owner without quite understanding how it happened. birtePOP . That weird little word. Only I know what that means. Very strange. The weirdest thing of all is that it feels right. With a hidden agenda and a desire. A desire that arose from a need. My own need to spread joy. Really like that. Because it makes a difference and I want to. It might sound like a cliché, right? And for a very long time it was important to me to steer clear of clichés, until one of my best friends said: "The weird thing about clichés is that we use them. Because they work!"

I have been doing creative work all my life. A life filled with music, dancing, painting, knitting, sewing and a bit of scribbling. Scribbles that sort my head and confirm my passions. Passion for the power of words...

Everyone has a passion. The kind of passion that makes it glow. Glows right into your soul. Because then the soul comes into balance ... and that's good. It can't get any better. If it turned out like that for real. Real joy that we cannot hide. Hide away if it doesn't fit. Fits into the "norm". The damned "norm"…

We have to go back. Back in time one year. Quality time in my studio as I like to call it. The studio sounds right. Correct and nice. Nice words attract me. I can sit for a long time with quotes and words. Words I catch without noticing. They lie there to be marinated. Marinate until it pops up in another variation. A variant that I have to make up my mind about. Maybe...

So I sat here sewing...bags this time. Bags in all varieties. Many variations of the same type, but none were the same. They weren't supposed to be the same. None of us are the same. Especially not on the inside. Inside is the magic. The little magical gold nuggets. Gold nuggets that spread joy. I was happy just thinking about it.

Patches were sewn inside each and every bag. Small woven patches with American puns. Notes that made me smile and think. A thought on whether it was possible to find this with Norwegian text? Why can't I find it...? Because that task was intended for me. Small Birtepop GRAINS . In my way. For the pleasure of others.