gifts for wildly creative ten-year-old goofballs



















For medievalists/miniaturists: a decorate-your-own castle blank, complete with inspirationcraft glue, and an assortment of craft paints and popsicle sticks (old egg cartons make especially good masonry). Add a working catapult kit for siege warfare re-enactments.

For painters: Akashiya watercolor brushes and a big ol' New SoHo SKETCH pad.

For creative writers: A fuzzy one-eyed creature journal, complete with padlock, for monstrously good drafts.

For sculptors: Wikki Stix (a magical melding of yarn and wax) to doodle in three dimensions.

For activists: The Pushcart War by Jean Merrill, which reveals (hilariously and metafictionally) words to live by —"don't be a truck"—and what it really takes to change the world.

For collectors: An earmarked ten-spot tucked inside a coin purse for treasure-seeking expeditions, jaunts to the candy shop, or bookstore adventures.

For recipe tinkerers: Extremely good cocoa, fluffy marshmallowsa whole can of real whipped cream, and Dutch chocolate sprinkles, for concocting the ultimate hot chocolate.

For composers: A pocket-sized Stylophone synthesizer for sonic noodling.

For the late-night button-pusher: A Snoopy Timex, complete with stopwatch and backlight.


For the hoarder of Jellycats: A Raindrop.

For all: Kiosk's "noisemaker from hell", because the holidays come but once a year (and because, despite its fearsome appearance, it only makes a subdued squeak, haha).

gifts for question-askers























A vintage cup for reading the tea leaves. (More here and here.)

A dictonary of symbols, for deciphering meanings, and a dreamlike Borges oracle by Catalina Kobelt for finding questions.

An obsidian mirror for peering into the dark.

Uusi's Supra deck for Jungian reflection.

An enamel "he loves me, he loves me not" spinning top pendant, for protecting unwary daisies from the lovelorn.

fortune-telling pencil sourced from a mystical machine in Des Moines that will provide a yes, no, or maybe so answer. 


Pat Perry's risograph-printed open call for guidance for anyone seeking to be "part of a collective search for perspective in confusing times." 

32-sided 1930s-era fortune-telling dice for more answers than you can get from a Magic-8 Ball.

Hysteric Glamour's "You Pay" keychain to end arguments over picking up the tab.

And for finding a fortune worth keeping, a bucket of cookies, plus a frame for the best one.

*

I will add waaaaay down here, in an abashed moment of self-promotion, that I am the editor of a series of open-ended oracle decks written by Ellen Freeman and illustrated by Bethany van Rijswijk that are quite beautiful and interesting, if you happen to like mushrooms, flowers, seashells, fairy tales, rocks, cats, or space. Unlike tarot, these oracle decks do not offer traditional meanings, and they don't promise answers—instead, they are way to play with thoughts and ideas using imagery and scraps of myth, folklore, history, and science.

gifts of repair























A collection of vintage glass buttons, for holding things together with strength and delicacy.

Reclaimed Cashmere mending kit for saving sweaters, complete with darning mushroom, snips, and reclaimed yarns in colors of your choosing.

Cozy one-of-a-kind knits from the Waste Yarn Project, using fibers that would otherwise be thrown away.

A hand-painted teacup, with a stapled-together saucer.

Celia Pym's On Mending: Stories of Damage and Repair
"... [A] collection of ten stories of damaged garments–plus a rug and two backpacks–Celia mended in the last fifteen years. The stories record who the item belonged to, how it was damaged, how it was mended and where it is now. ... Not a ‘how-to’ book, this is rather an in-depth look into the damage that we do, as manifested by our outer layers, our clothes."
Old Mill Candles beeswax and mineral oil wood polish, for giving wooden objects new life.



Lineco Book Repair kit, for rescuing well-loved reads.


10 trees planted for future generations, with a vintage postcard as a keepsake.

Nature's hand-carved locket, as a testament to love strong enough to bear a little damage.