I fully intended to write about my newest bit of foodie finery that will soon hang happily around my neck. After three years of gazing at the gallery with longing and indecision, I finally made up my mind and bought a necklace from SpoonFed Art. SoCal artist Karin Collins started her collages as therapy for her eating disorder, but four years ago her therapy turned into a successful online business. Collins fills an empty bowl of a spoon with her whimsical and alluring collages, making them both jewelry and delicate works of art. However, excited as I am for my "Berried" to shimmer at my throat, it was actually SpoonFed Art's packing material that really took my breath away.
As mother and father to two cats, my husband and I are very concerned about packing material. Cats (and presumably dogs) should not be let near Styrofoam peanuts or popcorn. If they bite the stuff -- and if you have cats you know they will try to bite, chew, or eat it -- cats have a good chance of choking to death on the Styrofoam. Therefore, whenever we receive a package that is well padded with floaty, sticky, staticky Styrofoam, we Hazmat the entire area.
The cats are sequestered in another room, and the package is carefully slit open with sharp scissors and the flaps laid flat. The contents are slowly lifted out by one of us, while the other brushes it down and keeps a weather eye out for escaped Styrofoam. After the contents are decontaminated more thoroughly than anything on the Enterprise, the box is resealed, Styrofoam within, and the entire area is checked for escapees. Even the tiniest bit of styro-schmutz is tagged and bagged before the cats are allowed back in the room.