Cèilidh Nam Freumhan

Tag: learning

  • The Joy of Learning to Write Grant Applications

    The Joy of Learning to Write Grant Applications

    Since I just opened an Etsy shop—with one product so niche that most people would never think to search for it—I have started applying for small business grants. I have a slight advantage as a female veteran, but that only gets my foot in the door. A strong application still has to stand on its own.

    One of the biggest hurdles will be the fact that I don’t have any revenue yet. Convincing a committee that my business has the potential to grow—and eventually become profitable—won’t be easy. Such is life.

    That said, I have a business plan that I genuinely believe in. My budget projections are also refreshingly simple because, at the moment, I have virtually no overhead. I work from home, and my current products are digital. Even when I begin selling physical products, I’ll be starting with materials and equipment I already own, including some supplies that I’m literally growing in my garden.

    One thing that gives me confidence is that I’ve written an RFP (Request for Proposal) response before. An RFP is how government agencies and other organizations request bids for a specific product or service. Writing one requires answering a lot of detailed questions, but it also results in a substantial library of material that can be reused. By the time I finished mine, I had about fifteen pages, and roughly twelve of those could be adapted for future proposals.

    I’m hoping that experience will pay off with grant applications as well. My contracts professor always said, “Why invent the wheel?” As long as I build a strong foundation now, each new application should become a little easier than the last.

    My goal is simple: secure enough funding to purchase professional equipment for the physical products I want to make. I think having the right tools from the beginning would dramatically shorten the learning curve and allow me to produce higher-quality work much sooner.

    I don’t know that grant applications will become a regular topic here. They’re not exactly thrilling reading. But if I ever receive one, you can be sure there will be an extremely excited post about it.

    Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to read Small Business For Dummies.

  • My Garden Compendium Has Already Changed

    My Garden Compendium Has Already Changed

    The garden compendium was originally meant to be a catch-all. It included medicinal herbs with drawings, uses, and recipes; planting, care, and harvest instructions for all of the herbs and vegetables I planted; a diagram of this year’s layout; a planting calendar; and a journal of what I did, what happened, and how I could fix my mistakes.

    That plan hasn’t changed. The notebook will continue into next year, or however long it takes me to fill 300 sheets.

    What has changed is everything else.

    Originally, I wrote herb recipes on the back of each herb page. It didn’t take long to realize that a tincture is a tincture, my handwriting was getting messier, and my fountain pen was ghosting through onto the drawing on the other side. So the recipes are getting their own section, but only for the preparations I’ve actually made with herbs from my own garden. The herb pages themselves will stay as a high-level overview with drawings and uses.

    Then there are the medicinal herbs.

    I have become fascinated by them and have been researching them like crazy. That rabbit hole is deep enough to fill 300 sheets all by itself, which wasn’t the original purpose of the compendium. I wanted this notebook to be something I could leave behind someday—a record of the garden that my descendants could flip through and (hopefully) ooh and ahhh over.

    So, naturally, I’m making another notebook.

    Medicinal herbs deserve one of their own. The subject is practically endless, and if you’ve been reading my blog for any length of time, you’ve probably noticed that I’m incapable of leaving well enough alone.

    I’ve also started color-coding the page edges. The notebook only came with two ribbon bookmarks, which isn’t nearly enough anymore. By highlighting the edges of each page based on the section—herbs, vegetables, diagrams, journal entries, and so on—I can find what I’m looking for without even opening the book.

    And finally…

    I did the one thing I swore I wasn’t going to do.

    I started an Excel workbook to track planting and care information for vegetables I haven’t even decided if I’m going to grow yet.

    Just in case.

    table with seeds, twine, and scissors for gardening
    Photo by Micheile Henderson on Pexels.com
  • The Garden Doesn’t Care About My Plans

    The Garden Doesn’t Care About My Plans

    No matter how much research I did before planting my garden (and I’m certainly not finished), there were still plenty of surprises. Some things completely failed, while others did far better than I ever imagined.

    I organized my garden into separate beds based on companion planting, water needs, soil type, and a handful of other factors. It definitely created more weeding than I would have liked, but I needed to see what worked and what didn’t.

    In some beds, none of it seemed to matter. I planted starts at the right time, paired them with their companion plants, and they promptly died. I direct sowed whatever I could, and sometimes nothing came up at all. I even moved some of those stubborn plants into bins with fresh potting soil. A few are thriving, while others are either refusing to grow or have become an all-you-can-eat buffet for whatever animal keeps digging them up.

    Then there are the pleasant surprises.

    The borage is so big that I’m honestly not sure what to do with all of it. I’ll keep tossing the flowers into salads, and the rest will probably go to seed. It’s one of the best bee attractors in the garden, though, so it’s earned its place. It also doesn’t hurt that it’s gorgeous.

    The calendula is massive. I’m drying flower heads for a future tincture, chamomile for tea, and I have dill coming out of my ears. The lettuce just keeps producing, and the carrots have done far better than I expected.

    All that being said, the garden has been a fruitful learning experience. (Fruitful. Get it?)

    As the season goes on, I’m no longer fighting the garden. I’m letting it show me what works, what doesn’t, and how I can make next year’s garden even better.

    And as the universe is my witness, I will not let the quince from hell win.

    stock photo of a calendula head
    Photo by Prashant Gangwar on Pexels.com
  • I Like Knowing Things

    I Like Knowing Things

    One of the things I’ve realized this year is that I don’t really collect hobbies.

    From the outside, it probably looks like I bounce from one thing to another. Gardening. Bookbinding. Norwegian. Citation templates. Herbs. Cocktails. Ancient history.

    They’re all over the place.

    To me, though, they’re all the same hobby.

    I like understanding how things work.

    The garden has made that clearer than anything else. Before this year, companion planting was something I’d read about. Soil composition was something I’d heard people discuss. Medicinal herbs were mostly names in books.

    Now I get to watch it happen.

    I’m seeing why one bed dries out faster than another. Why some plants seem happier next to certain neighbors. Which herbs attract pollinators and which ones don’t. Which vegetables struggle through a heat wave while others barely notice. It’s no longer just biology in a textbook. It’s biology happening in my backyard.

    That’s probably why my garden is organized the way it is. It isn’t the most efficient layout, and I’ve certainly spent more time weeding because of it. But separating plants by water needs, companion planting, shade, and other variables lets me see what works and what doesn’t. I’m treating the garden as one giant experiment.

    The same thing happens with my other projects.

    I didn’t start making notebooks because I thought notebooks were too expensive. I started because I wanted to understand how books are made. Every mistake teaches me something, and every notebook gets a little better than the last.

    I originally started learning Norwegian because I had a reason to. Somewhere along the way, though, the language became the reward. I enjoy the grammar, I enjoy listening to it, and I was ridiculously proud of myself for using it in Oslo, even if it was only a little.

    The citation bundles might be the clearest example of all. I don’t enjoy formatting bibliographies. I enjoy solving problems, and I kept thinking about how much easier graduate school would have been if I’d had something like this on my desk.

    Maybe that’s why all of these projects seem connected to me, even if they don’t to anyone else.

    I’m not really collecting hobbies.

    I’m collecting understanding.

    woman surrounded by books and studying on her bed
    Photo by MART PRODUCTION on Pexels.com
  • How Many Notebooks is too Many?

    How Many Notebooks is too Many?

    I first learned about commonplace books while reading the second book of A Discovery of Witches. It sounded like such a cool idea.

    I immediately found an unused notebook in my inventory and started carrying it around.

    I had been told that one simply writes down anything interesting. Unfortunately, I wasn’t finding anything interesting at first, and every time I wrote something down, it felt forced.

    A few months ago—maybe a year, time has ceased to have meaning—I started a bullet journal again. Instead of writing down things I needed to do or making trackers, it slowly turned into a commonplace book.

    I started devoting entire sections to things I was interested in: four pages on whisky, seven pages on Gàidhlig grammar, and assorted bits of trivia that appealed to me for reasons known only to my brain.

    Eventually, I had to start making separate notebooks. I simply had too many interests to fit into one.

    As far as I can remember, I currently have notebooks for:

    • Baseball
    • Gàidhlig
    • Norwegian
    • One for a game I am playing but refuse to admit to publicly
    • Religious studies
    • Gardening adventures (which covers enough topics to qualify as several notebooks by itself)

    And I still have many blank notebooks waiting to be filled.

    So how many notebooks is too many?

    Like the question of how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, the world may never know.

    Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com
  • Middle Age is Realizing You Can Just Learn Weird Things

    Middle Age is Realizing You Can Just Learn Weird Things

    I think a lot of us are taught that life follows a fairly straightforward path: go to college right after high school, find a career, and work forty or more hours a week until retirement. I never really followed that plan, and for a long time I felt like I had somehow done life incorrectly.

    As I have gotten older, though, I have realized that the things I didn’t do made me different in a way that I actually appreciate. I have always been curious, and I finally feel like I have given myself permission to simply learn things because they interest me.

    So these days I find myself learning crafts, bookbinding, languages, gardening, and even some homesteading skills. There is always some new rabbit hole waiting to be explored.

    Not always having steady work has certainly been stressful, but it has also taught me that life is about more than giving decades of yourself to an employer who may never appreciate you the way you deserve. There is value in creating things, learning things, and following your curiosity.

    At this point, if something sounds interesting, I want to try it. Some people may think that is strange, and perhaps it is. But I enjoy it, and I like the idea of keeping my mind active and open to new experiences.

    Maybe I am making up for lost time. Or maybe I am finally becoming the person I was always meant to be.

    Either way, I think Hannah Montana had it right:

    “Life’s what you make it.”

    Photo by Paweu0142 L. on Pexels.com
  • I Finally Did It

    I Finally Did It

    I had an idea for an Etsy product several weeks ago, but life happened and I had to put it on the back burner for a bit. But! I finally finished it, created my Etsy store, and listed my first product.

    I have felt very overwhelmed during this process. Yesterday, I decided that I didn’t need an entire shop. I didn’t need ten products, or perfect branding, or a grand plan stretching years into the future. I just needed one product. Just the first one.

    And just like that, I took the tiniest step imaginable to share something I made with other people.

    I don’t care if my shop goes viral. I don’t care if I become the next Martha Stewart, but with study guides. I simply wanted to take that first step.

    Honestly, I think that’s the hardest part of any new project. Not becoming an expert. Not making hundreds of things. Just being willing to begin.

    So today, I am celebrating one tiny step. The rest can come later.

    And if anyone is curious, my little corner of Etsy can be found at Tartan Vegan. I welcome feedback, suggestions, and gentle corrections as I continue learning.

  • The Case for Overcomplicating Things

    The Case for Overcomplicating Things

    I have a tendency to overcomplicate things. At least, that is probably how it appears from the outside. But for me, I usually have to do things the “hard way” if I want them to work at all.

    For example, I grouped my garden into separate beds based on companion planting, water needs, shade requirements, and a variety of other factors. That left a lot of space in between them that still isn’t completely weeded and is taking a massive amount of time.

    But all of that was necessary if I wanted to see what works and what doesn’t. I already know that I can’t plant anything close to the quince-from-hell, and that apparently I can kill peppermint where I intentionally planted it, but not the peppermint that insists on growing literally everywhere else in the garden.

    I have notebooks for language learning. I keep lists of cocktail ideas. I have spent an unreasonable amount of time designing printables. I make tables, draw diagrams, and write down things that many people would simply trust themselves to remember.

    I don’t think the complexity is the problem. I think it is how I learn.

    I need to do things in a way that helps me not only learn, but remember what I learned and how I learned it.

    Paying attention applies to just about everything I do instead of blindly hoping for success.

    I have always felt the need to break things down and figure out how they work. I have never been able to simply memorize phrases and words in other languages because I need to know why something is spelled one way with one pronoun and differently when the pronoun changes.

    I enjoy creating systems. I love finding patterns. That might mean I have more notebooks than most people find necessary.

    Some days I will spend hours writing down Norwegian grammar rules and lists of reflexive verbs. Other days I will spend hours drawing diagrams of different baseball pitches.

    What looks complicated to others simply feels interesting to me.

    The goal was never perfection.

    It was understanding.

    And if understanding occasionally requires a little overcomplication, I think that’s a trade-off worth making.

    Mass communication complicated issues Karl by libraryofcongress is licensed under CC-CC0 1.0
  • Building a Language Compendium

    Building a Language Compendium

    I hit Norwegian hard before my trip and ultimately got burned out. One thing that came out of it, though, was an idea I really liked: a language-learning compendium.

    Obviously, I started with basics like articles, gender, common verbs, and conjugations. But I also wanted to add things that I knew would help me personally.

    For example, I struggle with vocabulary recall, especially when I’m nervous. What I ended up doing was asking ChatGPT to give me short readings at my current level. I would write down words I didn’t know, look up their meanings, and add them to the compendium. Writing them down helps force them to stick in my memory.

    I write everything in pencil first, then go back over it in pen. Studies have shown that handwriting notes helps retention, and after years of trying different methods, I know that writing things down works better for me than typing.

    Right now, I am diving deeper into grammar, like modal verbs, and writing down common phrases and usage notes. I still burn out from time to time, but I am really enjoying the process.

    I am also not sure why I am studying so hard, since I keep second-guessing whether I will ever be able to move to Oslo.

    But I know myself.

    I just can’t stop learning.

    Even if other people think what I’m learning is useless.

    book open to basic Norwegian grammar rules
    Basic grammar rules and commonly used verbs.
  • The Night They Put Lime in My Sazerac

    The Night They Put Lime in My Sazerac

    A few years ago, I decided to start making my own cocktails at home.

    There were several reasons for this. First, paying $15 for a cocktail is ridiculous. Second, too many bars serve inconsistent drinks. And third, there is nothing more disappointing than ordering a favorite cocktail and getting something completely out of balance.

    The final push came on my birthday.

    My spouse and I visited a local speakeasy that I had enjoyed before. It was a charming place: Prohibition-era cocktails, a small intimate room, and a password required to get through the door. Unfortunately, this visit was memorable for all the wrong reasons.

    My spouse asked the bartender a question about one of the top-shelf bourbons. The bartender pulled the bottle down and slammed it onto the bar without saying a word. From that point forward, things only got worse. Our cocktails arrived in the wrong glassware, and they weren’t made correctly. At one point, my Sazerac arrived with lime in it.

    A Sazerac.

    With lime.

    Some crimes cannot be forgiven.

    On the way home, we stopped at a liquor store. I bought a few bottles and decided that if I wanted a proper Sazerac, I was going to learn how to make one myself.

    It turned out to be one of the better decisions I’ve made.

    Around that same time, I had watched far too many episodes of Bar Rescue. For all its drama, the show taught me something important: balance matters. A bartender who pours extra liquor into your drink isn’t necessarily doing you a favor. Every ingredient is there for a reason. The goal is not to taste the alcohol; the goal is to create something where the ingredients work together.

    The more I learned, the more I noticed inconsistencies when I went out. At one upscale restaurant in town, I watched a bartender make two copies of the same specialty cocktail. They came out noticeably different shades of green. That should never happen. A cocktail should look and taste the same every single time.

    These days, I have a growing collection of bar tools: jiggers, pour spouts, bar spoons, mixing glasses, strainers, and pretty much everything else a home bartender could want.

    And before anyone says it: a pony is not a jigger.

    A pony measures 1 ounce and 1/2 ounce. A jigger measures 2 ounces and 1 ounce. I will die on this hill.

    I use those tools, too. Every pour gets measured. Every recipe gets followed. Consistency matters.

    For what it’s worth, I make a heck of a Sazerac.

    Historical reenactment.