Finding The Familiar
Welcome to the first blog post from Familiar Funhouse. If you’re reading this, you’re already in on the secret, this brand isn’t just a business. It’s a home for the strange, the sentimental, the creative, and the quietly haunted. A place for projects, ideas, oddities, and stories. And today, it’s also a place for reflection.
This summer started with a jolt. One of those moments that shifts the air around you. A cat ran under my car as I was pulling away from a curb and passed away not long after. It was sudden, and awful, and stayed with me. I don’t think signs always arrive wrapped in clarity, but this one tugged hard at something I’d been feeling for a while: the pull to bring a new companion into my life.
Last October, I lost my soul cat. The kind of loss that settles deep. We had since adopted a sweet 4-year-old tortie, but I kept thinking about finding a calico kitten to honor my late companion of 11 years, a little creature to brighten my days a bit. The word “familiar” in Familiar Funhouse is meant to carry that layered meaning: a sense of home, of recognition, of magic, and also, quite literally, the animal kind. The kind that finds you when you need it most. Familiar Funhouse is one part homage to my greatest companion, and the rest is pure passion for what I do.
Somewhere in the middle of everything, we took a road trip to Florida to reconnect my mom with a childhood friend she hadn’t seen in over 40 years. We stayed in Daytona Beach (turns out, it’s not always what the brochures promise), accidentally bought a bootleg Labubu (I don’t condone blind boxes, I think they’re incredibly wasteful, but when in Rome…), and made time for a day trip to Cassadaga, the spiritualist town known for mediums, mystery, and the infamous Devil’s Chair. Yes, we sat in it. And no, I won’t confirm or deny if we did, indeed, hear the devil whispering in our ears.
There were other moments this summer I still don’t have full words for. My mom was hospitalized, twice. The second time, she was intubated. It’s a strange thing, how life just... keeps going after something like that. You pick up where you left off, even though nothing quite feels the same. Some days it’s easier to forget it happened at all. Other days, it sits heavy. I’m learning to hold both.
And through it all, somewhere between the hospitals and highways (so many highways, If you’re ever going to drive to Florida, I highly recommend splitting it into at least 3 days) and kitten claws, I officially stepped into full self-employment. After years of working more hours than I had energy for, I made the decision to leave my full-time job. Living with chronic illness (I have rheumatoid arthritis and fibromyalgia) means I have to be more intentional with my energy. The 60+ hour weeks were no longer sustainable. So I built an exit plan, took the leap, and here we are.
Familiar Funhouse is now more than an idea. It’s a real, tangible thing. A space for creative services, vintage, storytelling, design, markets, and whatever else I dream up next. A place where the personal and the professional can overlap in ways that feel honest and sustainable. A home for things that don’t always fit neatly into categories.
So, welcome. And thank you. Whether you’re here for the art, the work, the cats, or the curiosities, I’m glad you found your way through the curtain.
More soon. But for now, just this: life is weird and beautiful and fragile. And somehow, it all finds its way into the Funhouse.
—H