It's finally (mostly) done!

I think moving is the kind of activity that never quite feels done, which is why most people try not to do it too often. Even after everything is moved out, it's never completely moved out. When we moved into the house my parents bought in Ashland Oregon there was all kinds of minuscule detritus left behind such as scrap wood, vintage receipts on closet floors, and the best treasure of all: a tiny antique doll tea cup. Moving makes you face your crap both literally and figuratively, and for many of us, that's not very comfortable and involves copious shots of ouzo.

I'm sitting in a (mostly) empty store front. A space all at once magical to enterprising imaginations and crying out that another business has bit the dust. Because that's what most people are going to think: that we went under in a flash. We have become another cautionary business tale. Young hopeful couples with stars in their eyes are going to tell their friends that they want to start their very own little vitamin boutique and their friends are going to shake their heads and say "Remember what happened to that store that was here before, you know, what was it called? The one with the weird name...Tinpan Alley? They were only there for a year and they tanked. It is so hard to make it in business these days!"

How sad it would be to become a cautionary tale for entrepreneurial spirits. It's not what I want at all. As I sit here in the emptiness that used to house my colorful vision of commerce what I'm thinking is that it's been one hell of an adventure. I wouldn't trade it for the world. I didn't learn that I will fail at running a store; I learned how to run a store pretty darn well. My business was increasing. I had finally developed a reputation and people were seeking us out because they had heard about what a cool shop we had. That isn't failing. That's succeeding.

The money was getting super tight but if I had thought I could run the store and be a healthy person with a healthy family life, I could have gone further out on a limb to keep it going. And I'm confident we would have become financially successful. The highest cost wasn't in loans (though those are fairly daunting) it was going to take too much of a toll on my mental health, on my relationship with my son, and probably with my husband as well. So I'm happy we cut it loose.

It bothered me a little that some other shop owners might be watching us move out with a little smug "I told them so" kind of thought tramping across their brains. I no longer care. I don't have time for annoying smug people who get satisfaction out of predicting failure for others and enjoying being right. Especially when they're actually wrong. So I've let it go. I feel benevolent toward all feeble minded smug people right now.

It must be the beer.

What would the world be like without people willing to go out on a limb? For themselves or for others? What kind of dark grey life would we all be living if no one ever took chances? If we all listened to cautionary tales and meekly followed the advice of the jaded, scared, conservative, or negative people who love to shred enthusiasm wherever they find it? Life would SUCK so bad we'd cease to have souls!

I may be overstating myself just a little.

What I want everyone to learn from my adventure is that it's always worth following your dreams-just be sure to let your dreams evolve and change to fit the reality of who you are and what you need. Don't be afraid to shift gears, it doesn't mean you've failed. It just means you're wise and getting wiser.


*Don't forget to enter the drawing for the fancy tea towel in the previous post! The drawing in on this coming Monday. Go on-leave a comment.

Don't Look At This Post!
Seriously, you're eyes will hurt.

OH MY EYES!!

I can't believe you looked anyway. I can't believe you don't listen to me. It's almost like you're my kid or my husband. That pile of trash is really worrying me. I have to deal with it. We have exactly five days to vacate and clean the store. I have to say though, that our landlords are the best kind of people ever and they will hardly throw all our stuff to the curb if there's still a few things left on Sunday, nor will they likely charge us a huge penalty for taking a day more than planned. However, the funny thing about really easy going super nice landlords is that the more accommodating they are, the less I wish to impose.

This is the growing pile of stuff to fit into my house. Somehow. Maybe with my incredible detritus shrinking ray-gun? Suddenly my house feels VERY TINY.

There is definitely something very sad about a store denuded of it's merchandise so that all you see is it's bones. I have to say though that some of this store's bones are pretty shiny. That card rack cost me a whole sky-full of pretty pennies and I'm loathe to part with it so soon after buying it. Plus, I know that no one will want to buy it unless I try to sell it for five dollars. So I'm putting it in my tiny storage unit for the time being.

Here it is. My 10'x7' cyber store back room. Is it weird that I really love it in here? I didn't really want to leave it when I was done last night. Look how orderly it is. All that Mrs. Meyers in a small enclosed cell makes it smell so good too. So calm and quiet in there with no pets or people or garbage or weeds. Just calm quiet.

A quiet that could be ominous knowing that there is a very stealthy fawn colored doberman pincer on the property ready to rip my head off. Those dogs are really highly strung. They actually radiate tension. The owners of the storage unit love this savage sleek bit of fur like a child. The husband came sauntering casually by walking his child-dog and directs her attention and direction using a large walking stick. I can only assume it's a walking stick. I hope it's just a walking stick. Anyway, I spent the majority of my life deathly afraid of dogs. I have been overcoming this fear quite well in the last ten years and for the most part, as long as a dog comes accompanied by it's owner, I'm pretty mellow and ready to have a good dog experience.

I have a lot of bravado to make up for any lapses in my new steadiness around canines. I used this yesterday when faced with this tense sniffing cautious fawn colored creature with yellow eyes. Her tail and ears were clipped in that way that dobermans get clipped to accentuate the fear factor. I asked if she was friendly and the guy tells me that as long as he's with her she won't hurt you. Thanks, I really needed that boost. He then proceeds to tell me that this huge devil doesn't like black people. Do you know, I'm as uncomfortable with people revealing their racist asses to me as I am finding out that their pets are racist. I really didn't know how to respond without revealing how awful it was to hear about how his dog-beast wanted to maul a black man in his office this week. I'm renting a storage unit from people with a racist dog. What can you say to that?

So I asked if I could pet her.

Which is like asking to pet Satan.

I couldn't do it. She looked at me and seemed to say "go ahead, I'll decide how I feel about your hand on my head when you put it there. Maybe I'll be fine with it, maybe not..." She totally dared me, the bitch!! Ha. I let her sniff my hand and then I very calmly went back to doing what I had been doing. I trust pit bulls way more easily than I could ever trust a doberman.

Does that make me a racist too?

So my storage unit is being watched over by a little fawn colored racist beast with vicious teeth and very pointy ears.

Even so, I love my small calm organized oasis of good smelling merchandise. May many people order from the website so I can visit it often!

Well, hell keeps rolling forward and so must I. Hopefully you are all in a calm peaceful space right now.

Buttons, babies, and business

Can you believe that M. Sinclair Stevens of Zanthan Gardens sent me her collection of vintage buttons? This is now more special than the ones I bought at the antique store! Getting this package yesterday was like being in one of the good dreams I have where I have just happened upon a forgotten box of old hats and clothes that all fit me!! Thank you so much M.S.S.!

Now I feel rich in buttons and can play with them. (Not in a dirty way you nutty people!) My mind is whirling around the possibilities. I think a household project that showcases some pretty buttons would be great. I was just thinking I don't want to put them on anything I might make to wear (though that is what I'd like best) until I'm not so large, but here's the wonderful thing about buttons: you can remove them from garments you can't wear any longer and recycle them!

Truitt was a very thoughtful baby and made his entrance into this dark world two weeks early. This allowed him to travel the birth canal at a reasonable size (under seven pounds) which spared his mother the kind of hoo-ha ripping trauma that eleven pound babies can't help but cause. It also means that he is smaller than the average newborn and fits best into preemie clothes and hats. Dominique was unhappy with the hats the hospital gave her for his downy head and was going to go on a search for hats that would fit Truitt and also stay on. This is not something you want to do with a four day old baby in tow.

I cannot be the kind of help to parents of newborns that I would like to be right now. I can barely keep enough food in our own fridge so I can't make meals for these guys, I can, however, make a couple of hats. So I did. I used a very soft cotton/lycra fabric with good stretch. I measured Truitt's head and made him two hats. This is one of them. It makes me want to gobble him up.

It fit perfectly and stayed put. Plus, it had the cutest little pom poms sewn on the top! I'd wear one myself if it wouldn't make me look completely infantile. Here is Dominique with her husband Stephen (and the father of the baby, in case you weren't sure) and their ultimate collaboration.

I don't know if you can see the blood shot "whites" of Stephen's eyes, but like all new Daddies, he's finding out just how tired he can be. Stephen is a very surprising person. Don't be fooled by his Wisconsin-bred wholesome appearance- because he is a total smart ass. Which is one of the things I enjoy the most about hanging out with him. I also enjoy the fact that he's a Capricorn, like me, and was born the day after me (though he's three years older than me). The way I figure it is that if Stephen is so cool and so funny, maybe I can be too. Because we're practically twins. (I have milk-fed Wisconsin cousins, see, yet another connection.)

Yesterday was a great day. I love having those. I am working on a project that I'm not going to talk about yet. (Every crafty blog person has some secret project they're working on. I just hope mine results in riches. I decided to work on a secret project so that I could feel as cool as everyone else. How unoriginal could I possibly get?)

Speaking of riches...we aren't rolling in them. If you are, tell me how you did it please. We have exactly two months to find more of an income so that we can keep the store going. Actually, I guess we have three because if I have to, I will sell my Vespa to pay the bills. It isn't my first choice. I love my trusty Vespa. What I'm wondering is, does anyone actually make a living with their Etsy shop? Spill the info duderinos!! I'm seriously considering opening one to sell my hand made items in. Our website gets very little action (although, thanks to all the wonderful supportive bloggers who've shopped there recently-it's starting to feel like a happening place-thanks ladies!!) and there seems to be so much going on in the Etsy world. I'm just wondering if anyone is actually making any money at all?

Philip has been doing some free-lance work which helps. But he's still looking for a full time job. The nice thing about that is that if he got a full time good paying job I could stop worrying about money for the first time in two years. We have been in a non-stop worry about income since Philip was laid off of his job two years ago. We have been living off of money from the house we sold in California and the equity in the house we're living in right now. Although we have more equity, because we're almost as smart as Donald Trumpette, we would have to sell this house to access it. More loans are out of the question. Thanks to the forces at work, interest rates are awful right now. Especially for those of us without a steady reportable income.

Thanks Government!

The one thing that really bums me out about the idea of having to sell this house is that I love my garden. If you've been hanging around here lately that is no surprise. Now that it's really shaping up I'm starting to get attached. Something I told myself I wouldn't do because our situation is precarious. I'm kind of looking for work too but there doesn't seem to be much out there for me. Especially since I don't drive which means I am limited to getting a job here in town which pretty much means working at JoAnne's Fabrics. To fit in there I'm going to need to let my teeth go.

I feeling the need to go back to therapy but what with our money being almost gone, I don't think I can afford going because I'd have to meet my deductible first.

Thanks American health care system!

Here's the thing: the store is starting to take off. That's the thing. Right there in a nutshell. I keep thinking that maybe I should start begging my relatives to loan us money. But even if any of them had any money to loan, a loan is not what we need right now. We are in deep enough already. What we really need is for a fairy godmother to come along with her benevolent wand and sprinkle some miracle cash down on our heads.

I have a book in mind to submit to a few publishers, and while there may be a teeny tiny chance that someone will get excited (I said teeny tiny, you don't need to get all caustic on me, I know how much competition is out there. Shit, some of the people reading this right now are competition!) writing books is notorious for not making people rich. I'd probably get offered an advance big enough to buy next month's beer supply. Then I'd spend the next six months writing the thing while working the evening shift at JoAnne's and then it would be another eighteen months before the book was published and I started getting my share of the sales which would maybe buy us a dinner out.

Because, let's face it, I'm not Elizabeth George.

And that's where all my problems began. By not being Elizabeth George. Or Laurie Notaro. Or Anne Lamott.

What's in a name? A lot if you're not Elizabeth George. Let me ask you, is Angelina Williamson the name of a mogul? Is Angelina Williamson the name of a famous writer? Now, if my name was Sosie Philips, or Madison Powell*... you'd be thinking to yourself "where have I heard that name before?" because those are the kind of names that sound like you should already know who they are.

This is the part in our story when some amazing twist of fate happens to change our luck. It's unlikely we'll find oil in our back yard, so maybe we'll meet an editor who will read my stuff and make me into a star. Or maybe Philip will get the dream job of his life? Maybe I should start posing naked for dirty magazines and websites where fat is the fetish? (Does that pay well?)

(Hairiness would also have to be a fetish because I don't go in for making my pubes look hairlessly adolescent. Sorry if you love your Brazilian-it just weirds me out that any man would prefer a prepubescent hoo-ha to a grown up one. But that's not the real reason I don't go in for all that waxing of my privates, it's more about the excruciating pain of the hair removal and also having to expose my lady bits to another human being who isn't my husband.)

Oops, I just killed the dream. I can't bare my privates to other people, so true. Darn, and that's the only thing I can think of that might rake in a lot of cash

Well, speaking of jobs...it's time for me to get myself down to the store.


*Let's be clear about something right now: you are not allowed to steal either of those two names for yourself because I may need them for pen names for the romance novel I'll start writing when we're living in a trailer on the outskirts of civilization and it turns out that the only thing I'm good for is writing soft porn. You don't even know what an irony that would be and I'm not going to fill you in.

The Hopefuls

In my gardening fever, brought on by that languid warm weather, I bought a little flat of peppers, winter savory, chard and pansies. I didn't end up having time to get them in the ground right away, as I intended. So here they sit, on the patio table: The hopefuls. I walked past them yesterday evening as I was going to water the potatoes and the tomatoes, and they had a reaching sweet demeanor. The longing in these little starts was palpable. (Maybe not to the naked sane eye, but to an alert crazy eye...) I stopped. Suddenly it came to me that they were like the chorus girl hopefuls in 1930's films about showbiz; hanging out by the stage door hoping someone else would break an ankle and give them their chance to shine...

You might even say that this Rudebekia and Scabiosa (slightly hidden by the oregano) are understudies. One of my favorite cut flower combinations is Black Eyed Susan with Grandmother's pincushion. Here they are: hopeful.

Which is interesting because yesterday was one of those awful days, directly following a really good one, when your whole bubble is burst by looking at your bank statement. The one you have been studiously avoiding. Because the only way to get through to the successful end is to not notice how close to failing you really are. Eventually you have to look. It's like looking down a very deep grave. We are perched in the maw of failure. Waiting for the beast to keel over suddenly, releasing us to a brighter future.

OK, I was letting myself get carried away there. Businesses can fail or succeed by the narrowest margin. I had been hoping that Philip wouldn't need to look for work until the end of August, by which time I was hoping he wouldn't need to because we would be doing spectacularly well during tourist season. Time has run out sooner than I anticipated. So our choice is to drift along and hope to god it all comes together and if it doesn't: liquidate. Or, Philip can get a job and Dustpan Alley can stay open until it reaches that critical mass needed to ensure it's success. If Philip does get a job (and I can't bear to consider what will happen if he can't) then Max will have to go into some kind of day care.

It is not my intention to be critical of choices that other people have made, but I have to admit that this seems like one of the worst things I could do to Max. Some children are very flexible in their environments and their needs. Max is not such a child. I also didn't have a child so that I could put him in the care of other people. I realize that sometimes life demands that you make choices that you aren't happy about. There are a lot of parents out there who have had to put their kids in daycare in order to pay the bills, which is rather an important duty of parents. Without money, it doesn't matter how nurturing a parent you are, your children will not thrive. Before we give them education, or positive discipline, or ideals: we must give them food and shelter.

The question all business owners must ask themselves at some point is: what am I willing to do to make this enterprise succeed? How far am I willing to go?

This is all coming up at a time when things are actually beginning to take off for our business. It just isn't taking off fast enough. Timing is everything. I am pretty sure that if we can hang on for another six months we will be there. Not making profits necessarily, but paying the bills.

None of this is anyone's business of course. Generally speaking, businesses don't advertise how they're actually doing. The general wisdom is that you keep your business concerns on the hush. Keep your cards under the table. Don't let 'em see you sweat. Not only is this not the way I operate in my life EVER, this blog has been a place to record the ups and downs of starting a new business. So I keep on keeping on with the cards on the table for all to see. In some ways I kind of hope it's helpful to everyone else out there starting their own businesses similar to mine.

What I could really use right now? Some advice from someone who has done exactly what we're doing, and was successful. That's right: Posie Gets Cozy. This is when I really wish Alicia Paulson had already written a book about the nitty gritty of opening a brick and mortar store and also running a web store. What were her best tactics? What were her most effective ways of getting the word out? Was she ever anxious that it wouldn't be successful? Did she go through a lot of ups and downs? Was it slow at first in her store? She's really a star to me, not because she's neat and tidy (because we all know how much I care about being neat and tidy), but because she built a great unique business and even though she decided to close the brick and mortar, she's still successfully selling her amazing crafts online. How does she do it?

I don't want to read books written by empire builders. I don't want a business primer written by a financial wizard. I want to read about how someone an awful lot like me made a business successful. If Alicia isn't going to write one, then maybe I'll have to do it myself. Except I may need to title it something like "How not to build your business" or "The seven laws of growing a business too slowly..." or how about "They were right, you CAN'T build a business on less than a million..."

I admit that I'm worried. And scared. We are so close to becoming successful, or failing. There are a ton of scenarios that are running through my head in which I am forced to deliver pizzas on my Vespa for minimum wage while Philip becomes a logger and loses a limb because so many of them do and we all move into a trailer park and all my teeth rot out of my head because that's what happens when you start living in a trailer park with other people whose teeth have rotted away on that amazing diet of Pepsi and Swanson dinners.

That's not really a very likely scenario. I am tenacious if I am nothing else, and Dustpan Alley will continue to evolve. If we end up having to shut up the shop, we will move operations to our house and keep the website. Dustpan Alley is far from over. See, Donald Trump and I really do have a lot in common. He didn't give up when he was "bankrupt", and look at him now, with that amazing comb over that everyone admires so much they're secretly growing one themselves.

The reason I am not huddled in a corner in tears is because I have a gut feeling that things are about to really come together. I think it's important, when you own a business, to plan what you will do when things fall apart, but at the same time, never give up the fight until you have to if you're passionate about what you're doing.

What I kept thinking about yesterday is that McMinnville needs us. Or at least, they need a store like us. What we have to offer is different than everything else here. We have practical goods, we have beautiful handmade goods, and we have edgy funny goods. People are responding really well to what we offer. Who would move into our space if we don't make it? Another wine shop? Would La Bella Casa open a third store? Then I couldn't help but feel certain that we will make it. But probably by the skin of our teeth.


We are the McMinnville hopefuls.

Am I Martha Yet?

My bank account doesn't lie to me. Martha, I am not. But look at these pretty labels my mom made for all of my bulk goods! I realize that Martha is the Empirical master of all label making arenas the world over (?) and that it will make some Martha hearts bleed to hear me say this, but I think my mom's labels are BETTER than anything Martha could have done. Plus, does Martha make people pretty labels when waiting for hip replacement surgery? No. She has her minions employees do these things for her when she's indisposed with a cold, or in prison.

Here's the million dollar shot! I know you are all itching to make your own potions and bath luxuries, so come on in and let's chat about witchy matters. We can do this even if you're a Christian and are supposed to not suffer witches to live because as you must have realized by now, I use the term "witch" rather loosely and I don't personally fly on a broom. Though, I have to admit that the prospect of doing so is somewhat intriguing. It occurs to me that to fly on a broom you have to have one hell of a skinny ass. If anyone knows any real witches out there or if any of you ARE a witch and know about these mysteries, please don't hesitate to sit down with me and have a mature discussion about frog's balls and cauldrons.

I promise not to report you to any fire and brimstone characters I sometimes run into. Although, you know, once you're already all into the notion of fire and brimstone, I kind of don't think you've got a moral leg to beat witches with. I mean, you're already believing in seas being parted, thousands of animals fitting on one tiny boat, and a man who walks on water. What I am wondering is, if it's OK for Jesus to walk on water, why is it not OK for witches to fly on brooms? Are the witches harming anyone? At least brooms don't require oil to fly. Not only that, but I really don't see what their big crime is except the whole bit about not worshiping the bible, but if you're going to burn someone for not believing in Christianity, holy moses, you're going to have to burn more than half the world's population at the stake.

You know what we modern people call that? GENOCIDE. (Oh my, how did I go from pretty labels to genocide? Sometimes I amaze myself with my ability to turn a really nice little subject into one of mass murder. If I didn't know better, I might suspect myself of possessing magic skills.)

My mom has a genius for getting things done fast. Unfortunately, when you're working with a person who's brain is preoccupied with questions about flying on broomsticks, proof reading is an imaginary activity. Because I missed the fact that the price says "per ounce" instead of "each", my mom has to re-do all these labels. Or make me re-do them. But aren't these labels the bomb?!*

No matter what happens with my store, I now know something that I never knew before: I can put together a kick ass store! Obviously with a lot of help from the family unit. I kind of not so secretly wish that I could make enough to pay my sister and my mom to work for Dustpan Alley full time. If I could do that, I would be raking up the dough immediately. I don't really want to tell them this, but I kind of think that if my sister and my mom ran a store together they would be better at it than me.

If we had enough money to see us through a few years, I KNOW our store would make it. My mom was reminding me how no one makes money with their stores for at least the first two or three years. This is kind of like uttering a blasphemy really loud while in church. It's the thing no one is allowed to say to me. It doesn't matter if it's true. I don't have a few years. To point that out to me is like confirming that I will fail. I think you have to take into consideration that usually what is meant is that no one makes a profit for the first few years. I'm not looking to make a profit, I just want to be able to pay all the bills, and be able to buy food too.

Wait, did I say I'm not looking to make a profit? I take that back. I totally want to make a profit, I just don't care if I make a profit right away as long as I can keep us afloat. With beer. Ooh, floating on beer sounds like heaven rewritten to suit Angelina: a witch without a broom.

Maybe if the store doesn't make it I can write a book all about what NOT to do when you're trying to build a small business on very little money.

Well, I have some other writing to do. A big window display to arrange. Aprons to sew. Pot holders to sew. Tedious orders to place. Dirt to haul. Laundry to ignore. And best of all? Anxiety to percolate! So you all have a great Thursday!

*Is it totally outre to say that now? I always discover the current colloquialisms after they have run their course. For example, I have only recently started saying "dude". But that's my friend Kathleen's fault, I only say it because it makes her seem closer to me than Willits. I think she might be popping out a second wee one just about now.

News Flash:
Rhubarb is not a Hamptons affectation!

Another one of my wrong ideas has been completely blown out of the water. I always thought that rhubarb, and the miracle of eating these unpalatable stems was an affectation of well heeled Eastern people. I don't blame all that much on Martha Stewart, but I have to confess that it is based solely on her reverence for this strange vegetable that I formed these wrong conclusions. My friend Sid (who LOVES rhubarb) informed me of my mistake when she described her Midwestern childhood filled with rhubarb desserts. I will freely admit that I had my suspicions of it all the way up until I put a finished bite of this rhubarb crisp in my mouth.

Now I get what all the fuss is about. Rhubarb isn't about to replace potatoes on my favorite vegetable list, but DAMN! It's good!

Here's Sid doing all my work for me. That's what I love about good friends. You can shamelessly put them to work making you garden beds and crisp. This stem of a vegetable has turned out to be so good it almost makes me think I should grow some cardoon. Anyone had that before? It's like artichokes without the good part.

Dominique-I'm so sorry, now there's competition for my little patch of sour stems, but I think there might be enough for us to share.

Look what came in the mail! Life changing pins from Pam at Pam Kitty Morning. I have to admit that my current pins are about a hundred years old and about as sharp as the President.* One thing I have learned from twenty years of sewing is that fine tools make the difference between entering your sewing room with a light step, brimming with creativity and the drive to see your ideas through versus: wanting to smash your sewing machine into a brick wall and then wear the parts around your neck on a string as a macabre battle trophy like a bunch of dried scalps.

I'm pretty excited to try these babies out. Plus, I find the glass heads so irresistibly dainty! Thank you Pam!

Sometimes I want to say things about my own town and some of the interactions with the people in it. I've learned to really look deep inside myself before I report on anything that might get people's backs up or hurt any one's feelings and to control my innate desire to unravel my life with enemies.** It's killing me to not be able to discuss a particular interaction right now that is hovering right on the end of my forked tongue.

Incidentally, Sid tells me I don't say nearly as many questionable things as I think I do on this blog. She may be right about that, but I can't help but shiver with the memory of my ENORMOUS shame at hurting someone local by pointing out how different they are from me in a rather dramatic way, and then, as if that wasn't enough, I go to other people's blogs and inflame the tender feelings of other people's readers. However, being accused (yesterday) of saying "the most cracked out thing" someone has ever heard was actually kind of cool. The anonymous person who said it did so with so little venom, and admitted to being experienced in making cracked out statements themselves that I found I really liked and respected this person. Still, I mean, I'm shaking some people up around here, at least a little.

But that's not ever my intention. I'm not a shock jock. Firstly because I'm not a "jock" at all, and also because that expression always reminds me of Howard Stern who I think is just a gross individual, and who managed not to shock me with his divorce and subsequent dating of a blond, big boobed bunny who most likely didn't start off adulthood with blond hair or big boobs.

I found out yesterday that one of my new card lines, Snow and Graham, is already being carried by Mes Amies up the street. I actually asked the rep more than once if she was sure that no one else in my town was carrying this line. She swore up and down and seven sins to Sunday that no one was. So why should I feel so guilty? As though I had committed some crime? I'm tired of working so hard not to step on other store owner's toes in this way. I mean, I have no desire to repeat merchandise, nor to step on any one's toes. I much prefer to encourage good will and camaraderie with everyone on third street. But I'm tired of making so many efforts and still getting stung and feeling like it's all resting on my shoulders.

I hope more of the store owners on Third street bother to come and see what I'm carrying in my store. So it's a two way street. I was glad to see Naomie from Mes Amies come down to visit, but of course I now feel like scum because of the whole "Snow and Graham" snafu. Plus she informed me that she used to carry the "My mother's buttons" line for a long time (though not now). This tells me we have similar tastes. How much crossover can there be between our stores when hers is a clothing store and mine in a home and personal accessories store?

It makes me want to produce all of my own merchandise so that this will never happen again.

Having a store downtown is a way more political and touchy business than I would ever have imagined. So many mines in the road, so many eyes watching your every move suspiciously. So many people waiting to see if you last or close. Who knows what's in all of their hearts?

Actually, I have to say that there are a few store owners who have been above and beyond helpful and friendly. People who have inspired in me, not a sense of obligation to respect them, but the desire to work with them towards common goals as store owners in a small town. It's never easy being on the bottom rung of a hierarchy, but when you are, you need some allies and I 'm happy that I've been blessed with a few of those!




*My ability to censor my censoriousness is deeply impaired by too little sleep.
**This is more of an exaggeration than a flat out lie.

The store face lift: designed by Tara Bass

This store reorganization is brought to you courtesy the slave labor of my mom (Lorena) and my sister (Tara).

So here's the thing, my sister Tara has been shopping for gifts for me in stores like mine for years. So if anyone knows how a store like mine should be laid out, it's her. And she told me so when she saw it for the first time this past week-end. She said "Sister, what the hell are you doing with your store?!" No she didn't. Tara doesn't talk like that at all. She really didn't want to interfere. (Though she really did, because it's fun and because she had good things to suggest.)

First things first: when someone walks into your store, they should immediately be stunned with a highlight of what's in your store. So that's what we arranged with the "baker's rack" here.

Does anyone recognize the brilliant, gorgeous, and inimitable work of Future Girl? Dudes, it's the bird purse, here in my own store!! I got my order from her almost a couple of weeks ago and was so excited and meant to tell all of you, but then other things like deep depressions over politics kind of got in the way. Her bags are better in person than they are on her blog. The quality is amazing and I'm very lucky she was willing to do a wholesale order for me which is not going to make her a millionaire any time soon. Hopefully lots of people will buy her purses from my shop and her name will spread everywhere and she can sell them directly and quit her day job. Every day I'm in my shop I am cheered by these works of art of hers.

Second part of the store plan: group like things together into sections so they make a bigger impact than they do spread out everywhere.

Here we have the "gift" section with the glass wear and the journals and other interesting miscellaneous items. I have to say that this cabinet looks way better now. I mean, I want to buy stuff too! If you don't want to buy stuff from your own store, then you're doing something wrong.

Product corner: All the products are being grouped together. By products, I mean the soaps, lotions, salts, detergents, basically everything to make you and your house clean and smell good.

This is in the stationery section. The card rack is to the left, and in the desk are note pads, fold-n-send stationery, and various little gift tags and post cards. Don't you want to send a letter to someone now?

This is a shot of the middle of the store. Looking towards my darling little studio full of wondrous crafty treats. Uh huh, you heard me, I said those words. I did. If you saw the studio tour, then you know I am telling the truth.*

My mother grouped all the Terramoto together to make a bigger impact. Plus, it's now in the kitchen section. With the dish towels and linens. Doesn't that make perfect sense? Aren't you wondering how come I hadn't already figured out all this stuff? It takes a visionary to see it, in my opinion. I have my head stuck in catalogs finding all the merchandise I would want to buy if I was in my store, and I think I've done pretty well.

But then I take my head out of the paper wasteland to see the reality of all this great stuff and it's hard for me to know how to arrange it strategically. I'm still bleary eyed. As you have surely observed from my window dressing skills, my real forte lies in the designing of products, not the arrangement of environments. You would also observe this if I showed you more pictures of my house. Want to see it? No you don't.

The linens have been displayed on this handy rack. My mom did it. Oh my god, don't you feel like you just have to have one of those pot holders?! (See, the power of display is amazing.) Seriously, this looks so good now.

And here we have the oil cloth corner. Oil cloth is amazing. No, this isn't the real stuff. If I carried the real stuff in my store no one would be able to buy it without first selling off their first child. I want to carry it, but can't. The bibs make great baby shower gifts. We do really well with the oil cloth because it's so darn handy- just wipe it down! How brilliant is that? I'm thinking of carrying some yardage too.

I told my sister that if she moved here I would hire her to do this for me full time without any pay besides really good meals. I cannot understand how come she still flew off to Los Angeles the next day. Who wouldn't want to work for home made macaroni and cheese? I had such a good time with my mom and sister and now when I look at my store it makes me think of them because now their wonderful style prints are all over the place. I love you guys!!

I also want to say that I have the most amazing friends. You know how NONE of the Easter baskets had sold? Well now all of the little ones have been sold because my friends are so supportive! I don't know if I can mention the good friend who bought one for her daughter because if for some freakish reason her daughter read this, the surprise would be ruined. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE THOUGH! (I will have to write something gorgeous about her after Easter, or as soon as she tells me it's OK).

My other friend here in McMinnville bought three of them, one for each of her girls. Lisa and her husband Lawrence have a welding business here in town and are much in the same boat as Philip and I, what with the lack of steady income because of being in the early stages of building our respective empires. So the point is, even though they have to be very careful of what they buy, she decided to treat her girls to my baskets. Thank you Lisa!

You all may have guessed how sad I would have been if NONE of them had sold.

Lots of my friends have been supporting our business and I hope all of you know how much I appreciate that!

In other news: we have met with a great design and advertising company called Riveting Design run by a woman named Angeleen. Do you notice anything about her name? You should always hire someone when they are accompanied by a string of odd coincidences. She lives on Williamson drive (or street, or avenue, or something.) Lots of people may not be aware that that is my last name! Also: I have bought a vintage overalls pattern from the forties on the strength that Rosie the Riveter looked so hot in them. If you go to Angeleen's front page, you will see why this is an interesting detail.

But, aside from all of that, she and her associate designer Alisa have a ton of great ideas for marketing our store. So I'm excited to have some help in this department.

Last note for the morning: for those of you rooting for our store to become successful, I just thought I should offer up something more positive than all of my worst fears. So I can report that our store is actually improving in sales each month we're open! Yay! I'm sorry to say that I won't stop stressing until we start to pay our bills and the funds we're living on stop getting sucked into an invisible vortex, but the fact is, our business is building. Word of mouth is really beginning to take hold and I'm extremely thankful for that. There you go, something bright and cheery to reflect on.

*Total lie. But, whatever makes me sleep better, right?

Can I pay the Feds in cookies?

Everyone in retail knows that one of the most important things to do is take inventory at the beginning of the year. As surprising as it may sound, the tax man doesn't take your word for it that you only made $5000 for the entire fiscal year or how much inventory is in your store, nor does he actually believe you when you swear up and down that you aren't second cousin to the mob with money laundering urges running in your bones. Yes, indeed, the tax man demands proof of your honest toil.

You should also probably be keeping track for the whole year of your inventory. With a computer system designed for this purpose.

We interrupt this program to announce this ground breaking piece of news: my son just asked for egg toast with ketchup. In other words: he's eating a piece of toast with an egg on it! I might pass out with joy...hold on...OK, don't worry, I'll be fine. I'm going to go weep in a corner now and be very very quiet so maybe he'll actually finish it.

And now, back to our regular programming... (does anyone have a cup of coffee around here?)

I have only just made an appointment with a CPA to do my taxes. Sometimes I feel like people will think I'm a princess to be hiring other people to do my taxes. I mean, what moron can't just open up quick books and do the data entry? Here we are in the middle of the DIY revolution, inching our way through the trenches, and I HIRE SOMEONE TO DO MY DIRTY WORK FOR ME? Yes, indeed. A couple of years ago I did our taxes again for the first time in a few years to prove to myself that I haven't gone soft in the head. I used Quickbooks and it took a long time though it wasn't really that hard.

However, I decided that it was well worth the money to pay someone else to do most of the work. Now that I have a retail store there is no way in hell I am going to do them on my own. We already have complicated taxes due to Philip's share in his family homesteaded farm in Louisiana from which he receives anywhere from $100 dollars in rent to $1000 dollars in rent a year. (His family rents it out to farmers and now oil drillers.) For this paltry sum of money we are required to fill out a whole separate complicated tax form. Even though the money Philip receives nearly always goes towards the lawyer fees the family must pay to negotiate the rental terms of their land.

Oh, you may notice how we have access to farm land and yet I keep whinging on about not having more property. You may be asking yourself how I could be so darned land greedy when we could move to Louisiana and stake out Philip's ten acre share, we could start farming soy beans right away and have even fewer prospects than we have now, so why aren't we there?

Because it's in Louisiana. Where there are no hills, very little for vegetarians to eat, and almost no people where his farm is. Plus the insects are all super-villain sized and the climate would kill me off in my first season there. That's why.

Back to the taxes...so our taxes are always complicated. Now it's even more complicated because last year Philip was on unemployment for part of the year, we sold and bought a house, we have a store for which we not only buy things from other companies, but for which we make our own products (so there's the wholesale supplies component too) and my head just hurts thinking about all the work I am going to have to do in the next few days to prepare for my tax meeting. I spent last night digging for all the merch receipts from opening the store to simulate a beginning inventory list, and now I'm going to have to do the same for the month of December when I should have taken another inventory for the needy tax man.

I don't expect to owe the tax man anything because there were no Capital Gains taxes applicable on the home we sold and we made only $5,000 dollars between the two of us last year. I'm kind of impressed by that. I haven't made so little in one year since before I was legally working. The money we spent to set up our little retail establishment is phenomenal. I don't even know the exact figure yet. Because I still have to add up the receipts.

You might be thinking to yourself right about now that I've been quite slip-shod in my business approach. Most people have a PLAN, and a known budget, and spread sheets, projected expenditures to contrast with projected sales for their first five years of business. And you should have all that. But here's the deal, if I did that, I would have found out immediately that there was no way I could afford to be in business and I'd be working at Wilco right now wearing tight Wrangler jeans and cowboy boots for the first time since grade school* and Max would have been in after school care too because my income would not have been enough and so Philip would be working at the local health food store as the underpaid produce guy who gets to rearrange a lot of really unfresh produce.

Instead of which we've had this incredible adventure that may or may not end in us having spent all of our home equity line of credit, liquidating the store, and getting underpaid jobs at Wilco. At least I will have had this amazing experience before having to sell my house and rent a little apartment with no yard. No one will ever be able to call me a coward. No one will ever be able to get away with calling me unadventurous.

A business plan and a binder full of information on how to run a business and report to the tax man before zero hour would have been the smart thing. But the smart thing wasn't going to work for us. We had to go in a little blind. That's the only way to crash and burn or come through to glory. For us, I mean. Just like when we got married. If I had known too much about Philip and his foibles, and if he had known just how crazy I was BEFORE getting married, if we had this marriage plan and a regular wedding instead of running off to Vegas, we never would have married. Of this much I am certain. Then we would have missed out on an incredible opportunity.

But for the rest of you out there, I suggest you be prepared. You may not be crazy enough to wing it and face the consequences. If we come out of this summer still in business, if we make it to the next Christmas buying season, I kind of think it could be declared a miracle. I don't know how we'll do it. If I do the paperwork, the financial planning, which is always hovering very close to the edge of my consciousness, then I will know for sure we can't make it. If, however, I close my eyes and just keep moving, we might....we just might make it to the other side of business. The part where people are ordering on-line every day, where we can barely keep up with our sales and where we are paying all of our rents and mortgages and don't have to sell our house or do something else.

I will say that I think this town would like us to succeed, which is a great feeling. We are doing way better in this spot than in the last one. We have lots of repeat customers. People are coming to check with us to see if we have what they need. We're taking notes about what people need. I know that if the money doesn't run out first, our store will make it. I can feel it. We are certainly filling a niche. People get excited when they come in.

There are all kinds of lessons you can learn from us. A lot of them contradict each other. Pick what works for you. Use us as a cautionary tale, or an example of idiotic bravery. The American Dream as we all have perceived it is fading fast, commerce and opportunity for everyone is disappearing daily, so if you want a piece of it, you better grab fast. Even if we have to sell our house in the end, we won't regret having tried for this dream. In other posts about our business some people have wondered if there's anything that makes having your own business worth pursuing, since so much of it is an uphill climb.

I will say this: it's the ultimate DIY project. It gives you the great satisfaction of having built something that is deeply meaningful to you. It makes you think and dive into your creative spirit more than any other job. It's easier to come to work every day when you know that you can, if you want to, decide not to take people's crap. As an owner, you are motivated to please people so you tend to be cautious about insulting people (unless you're me and you do it all the time on your blog), but knowing that if someone is putting their boot all over your face, you can kick them out, is wonderfully empowering. It's deeply satisfying to have made something that other people enjoy. I walk down town and look across the street to my store and I can't believe that Philip and I put that together between us, this colorful, cheerful store full of wit and practical products. We did it.

Yes, it's satisfying. That's why we've kept at it so far. That's why I am flying as blind as possible. If I look at the paperwork right now, if I make actual budgets, I will find out the dream ends tomorrow. I have more power not knowing. There's more room for magic to happen, for luck to blossom, if you aren't trying to count your fortune out. It's not the way all good businesses are run, but I would be dispirited to know how close we are to not making it.

So I will slog through this clumsy tango with the tax man and turn my face brightly towards April, the beginning of tourist season. I will turn my attention to the future where all things are possible because nothing is known. I see us coming through, even if it is by the skin of our teeth.

And I may need to increase my medication.


*I haven't worn a pair of jeans since the sixth grade. I despise them on me. If you ever see me in a pair of jeans (overalls don't count, I could possibly wear them if they didn't make me look like a giant snuffaluffagus) then you will know for sure I've gone over the deep end. Don't follow.

My apologies for being lame

Missy of Glitter and Grunge sent me a really lovely package for our pot holder swap. I forgot that when doing a swap it is always de rigueur to send more than the swap called for. Generosity is the hallmark of swapping. Shit. I'M SO SORRY MISSY. (Because I only sent the swap item.)

I'm not ashamed of the pot holder I made for her. Except I kind of am. Because look at this fancy pocket she made. (And she says it's her first pot holder!)

How cute is this one?! Now I just have to figure out how to post it on the flicker swap page that Happy Zombie set up. I'm terrified of trying new things like that. Which is truly ridiculous because I'm fine once I get it. See all my links? I don't even have to look at my notes anymore because I have the code memorized and can link to things absolutely any time I want to. I could link all day long if I felt like it.

These are the Keens I bought. They might actually be more comfortable than the Birkenstocks. Which is good because they only cost ten rubies instead of an entire treasure chest. However, they still look like Hippie shoes. Lucky for me that I don't have time to spend looking at my feet.

Philip and I have had a meeting about all the things we need to get done. We've prioritized the forty five point list. We also came up with a super brilliant plan for some kits and patterns that I'm not going to discuss right now. Because what if someone was reading this and realized that we are on the verge of something really profitable and stole our ideas? Aside from the fact that we are still an unfortunately well kept secret, you know we're going to have an empire someday. Just like Mary Jane's Farm. Did any of you realize what an empire that is? I confess that it has been slightly disappointing to realize that her farm and all it's components are beginning to smell a little Martha Stewartish. But if I ask myself honestly whether I'd rather be wondering if I'll still be in business in six months, or raking in the dough on about five zillion products and services, what do you think I'd choose?

I can't afford to sit here and say I don't care if we make money or not. I would love to be doing all this for no other noble purpose than to make cool shit. But the truth is, if I didn't have to make money, I would be farming for myself. I would be homesteading. I would be doing all this cool stuff for myself. I am making table cloths to sell, cocktail napkins, and key chains. How much have I made for our own home in the past year? Nothing. Seriously. I don't have time. My house looks like total generic crap. I've painted just one room so far. The rest of the house is antiseptic white.

I'm very excited about what we have to offer and the plans we've been making. I really am. This is so much better than working at JoAnne's fabrics. What we need is a marketing tool that will actually work for us. Do you all think I ignored you the last time I asked for ideas? Ha! If you thought that, you couldn't be more wrong.

Here's what we've been up to and what we're working on:

• Contacted Mary Jane's Farm to see about being featured in her magazine. Which I have a feeling is going to go absolutely no where. However, I did get to talk to their book keeper who was really enjoyable to talk to and she passed along my information to Mary Jane herself. Plus, last night I wrote the first draft of an article I will submit to them.
  

• Last night I sent off a submission to Bust Magazine which I am assured will be looked at and if they like it they'll get back to me at some indefinable point. If they don't, I will probably never know for sure until my chin hairs have doubled in length. The point is: I did it. I worked on a piece that I thought would actually be interesting to them. However, I've never been published and the chance that I will catch their eye is pretty slim. I'm not a hopeful fool. I'm just determined to try every angle.

• I am ordering supplies for an Easter Bonnet decorating class. We are (today) deciding what information will be on the poster for it which will go in our window and I believe we will distribute some copies in other places. Philip will be designing it. I will also be decorating sample hats for the window. I will be doing this today.

• We will be working on an article to submit to Ready Made as well as finding out what it costs to advertise in their publication. I'm pretty sure we can't afford it. But we'll find out for sure.

• I am also researching who the current costumer is for Desperate Housewives. My friend Lucille from Forest Whimsy suggested I send one of my aprons to the set and see if they might use it in their show. You won't believe how hard it is to find out who is the costumer RIGHT NOW. There have been several. A show I would really love one of my aprons to appear on is Gilmore Girls. I would love to make one for Melissa McCarthy who plays the character Sookie St. James. But even though she plays a chef, she doesn't wear cute aprons. Besides, I'd have to adjust the size and no knowing her actual size could lead to insult, if it lead to anything at all. Who else could I send one to? Oprah? You think she's take an interest in a tiny company struggling to get noticed? She already champions my competition.

• I sent off a letter of inquiry to Whole Foods with pictures and swatches.
  

• I will check out the price of advertising in Craft Magazine. Maybe submit an article to them as well.

You see how busy I've been listening to all my well wishers? When I ask for suggestions, I may not follow all of them, but I do them all the credit of a good think. I have pursued the ones that seemed most practical and appropriate.

I also contacted SCORE and it keeps coming to an apparent halt and then someone will call and pick up the thread. I've asked for help with marketing. By the time I get help I will have already figured out what works or I will be liquidating.

I received word back from the sewing contractors I'm interested in using. They are willing to take the next step. I have to put together a formidable package of information, patterns, and contracts to get to the next step. It will be a long time and some money later before I find out if we can afford their services. I'm going to be putting in a lot of late nights again. SOON.

So if you don't hear from me on your blogs in the next couple of weeks as often as I usually do, don't feel abandoned. I'll be back. I'll still be writing everyday here. Because if I don't, well, you know...MY HEAD WILL IMPLODE.

The Hot Hot Future

Peppers from the summer harvest. The flash on my camera made them look like cheap garish vegetables, rather than the complex cayennes they really are.

Remember summer tomatoes? I'm still hoping for more snow here in McMinnville, so it's not as though I'm pining for the summer yet. As I recall it, it was pretty miserably hot here and I wore a lot of heat rashes in July. That's not a look that inspires admiration. Or comfort. Still, I've been thinking a lot about produce lately, how there isn't much to choose from around here, and in plotting to never buy any vegetables ever again I was trolling through pictures from the summer garden; getting hungry. I went to Roth's recently, the posh grocery store, just to have a break from the miserable health food store. Here's what I have to choose from:

Safeway: a place that is contributing mightily to the destruction of our local economy, global warming, chemical poisoning, and the spread of the corporate disease. We buy most of Max's food at Safeway because he was sent to us from the devil and will only eat Ritz Bitz and Goldfish.* I avoid buying produce there as much as possible, mostly on principle, but also because I bought broccoli there this past year that, when steamed, smelled really wrong. It had a strong foul chemical aroma.

Harvest Fresh: Their prices aren't all that bad. Not great, but I have made immense efforts to support them since they aren't corporate, they sell "good quality" products, and they support lots of local farmers. I want to give the owners a swift kick in the butt though for trying to sell produce way past it's prime, for not controlling the aggressive unappetising clouds of fruit flies always hovering over the produce, and for not staying on top of general expiration dates. Oh yes, and their mediocre food makes me upset too because there's no excuse for it.

Roth's: This is where you go when you have annoying stacks of greenbacks burning holes in your pockets. Or when you just get so tired of your other choices you break down and go there against your better judgement. I will ask you this: what grocery store doesn't carry swiss chard in the winter? Oh yes, and: who can afford to spend $2.99 per pound for "heirloom" oranges? I'm sure the Donald wouldn't blink twice at that price. But only because he has probably never gone to the grocery store in his entire life. (That alone deserves my scorn.)

There's the fourth, secret, choice: GROW ALL MY OWN FOOD.

Because all this spare time and acreage I've got is really bringing me down.**

Seriously, this has been on my mind a lot this past week. Partly that's because this is the time to plan the garden. But also because I feel like the only way any of us can eat produce that's healthy, tasty, and not prohibitively priced is to grow it ourselves. There's something wrong with farmers using chemicals they won't let their own family touch. That's right, there's at least one commercial farmer out there who isn't buying the whole "pesticides are harmless" crap the chemical companies are trying to shove down our throats, but who, none the less, is using them to grow commercial crops. There's one farmer out there who won't let his family eat the food he grows for the rest of us. He has an untreated patch of potatoes for his own family. There is something so morally wrong with him being willing to feed the rest of us this poison when he isn't willing to give it to himself, his wife, or his children.

I'm not actually trying to bust the farmer's balls. I mean, someone should, but right now I'm trying to focus on what I can do for myself. All good change starts not from pointing fingers at others but pointing them at ourselves and asking what the hell we can do about it. I have my own hens, so I have eggs whose origin and content I am in complete control of. I give my girls lots of good scraps and I keep them pretty clean, and they are pretty happy for a bunch of fluffy birds. Some people don't think this makes a difference. But it does. Oh yes, it does. It just isn't a difference that's going to make you richer.

I can grow some of my own produce too. Which I do, every single year. If I had the time I would grow a lot more. And once I'd used up my yard, I would, if I could afford it, either buy more land or rent more. There is no more powerful thing you can do for yourself than to grow some of your own food. Go ahead, doubt me. Remember the victory gardens everyone was growing during World War II? Millions of people were gardening because of food shortages. People were on rations. Do people think this couldn't happen again? What a bubble we live in.

All of these thoughts combined with all of the research I've been doing for the store have made some ideas sharpen. I've become focused on how to make Dustpan Alley not only become successful, different from our competition, but also a company that reflects what's truly important to me, to us, and if not to you, then what should be important to you. Sustainability, high quality lives, environmental awareness, and self sufficiency.

By self sufficiency, I don't mean that we all need to become creepy cult-like woods dwelling self righteous people who don't participate in culture, and make our own tools as well as grow our own wheat. I mean, more power to you if you embrace that level of self sufficiency. Just don't stock-pile weapons and ammunition please. By self sufficiency I mean we all need to have more independence. Most of us can't grow all of our own food. But as I've mentioned before, everyone can grow some fresh herbs. Almost everyone can grow a tomato plant or two, some lettuce. I mean that it's empowering to make things for ourselves.

Most people have to work a lot of hours away from home just to pay the bills. Even when you do this you can learn to cook healthy food for yourself, you can learn to use some tools to build small things for your home and garden. You can sew things. You can fit so much in life that's fun and gives you a little more personal power than you had before. How can anyone not want that?

I suppose I'm preaching to the choir here. I want my store to have ready made gifts in it, because I'd be stupid not to have plenty of cool things for people to buy that don't require any assembly. But what I want more of is kits. Kits that help people get started learning new things such as how to make small useful items like key chains. Kits to get people started making their own natural body care products. Kits for making soap. These aren't original thoughts or kits. That doesn't mean there shouldn't be more of that out there. Who doesn't love kits?!

OK, I know, plenty of people don't care about kits. But they will when they see mine.

You can't see it from your screen, but my mind is rearranging itself. My mind is taking what we've already done and is starting to hone in on what might really work, distinguish us, and offer something truly valuable. A lot of my inspiration comes from my creative friends who all around me are making fantastic things. Beautiful knits, magical toys, incredible food. Not just my friends right around me, and the ones I left behind in California. But you. You who might be reading this right now.

Right around the new year I was asking some pretty important questions about my business. Not comfortable questions, but important. I'm coming up with answers now. That doesn't mean I'm going to have it all figured out any time soon. But my mission, my vision has become much more obvious and my path more clear. Even if at the end of the year our brick and mortar isn't paying enough of the bills to keep us floating, it won't necessarily mean the end of Dustpan Alley. My original vision for my company, thought up several years ago when I became a housewife, has gotten a little obscured. Yet all I had to do was some serious brainstorming to find out that I'm still building what I wanted to build, it just got complicated by opening an actual store and having to fill it.

I feel like I'm making almost no sense because my head is buzzing. I'm not on drugs. I'm not drunk. It's buzzing with ideas. Like I hit the idea jackpot and I need three more bodies so I can develop all of them simultaneously. In fact, I have to get back to organizing the projects and do more research. I guess if I didn't make sense today, you'll just have to wait and see what develops here. I will get that camera battery replaced so you can see some of the projects as they are taking shape.

*Mild exaggeration. He wasn't really sent by the devil.
**Total lie. Unfortunately.