Gemutlichkeit

Taking a break from the number crunching...

One of my favorite blogs is Poppalina, in the now wintery land Down Under. She's a woman named Shula that I've mentioned on my blog many times, and I check her every day. She doesn't post four times a day, but that's about how many times I check to see if she has. So we inadvertently drive up each other's hit counters. (I don't have one, too early in the game) Shula has been doing this serious yoga-mama thing, becoming a yoga teaching person, and it sounds grueling. Oh, and she's a single mum with a 13 year old girl. Sounds like someone else I know...

Anyway, today Shula stayed on her blog long enough to tell us she finished writing a paper for her class, and she found a great flash pic saying, "It's Bloody Finished!" in Broadway Lights. We all sent up a cheer. She hates paper writing, and does all the dodging activities I do when the paperwork is deadline due.

So I'm not going to apologize for posting twee pictures on Friday, being in a hands-on, visual mode, left brain off. Today was all left brain; finances, numbers and applications, accounting of new efforts with dollar signs attached, profit dollars, blessed expenses, supplies, bills old and new and real old, and looking down the short handle of the end of unemployment.

Finally finished doing what I needed to do for Etsy and Paypal, and am waiting until tomorrow to hit House of Vintage. I'm grimacing cautiously as I write this. August will pick up, college kids renting and needing to fill apartments, houses and closets. Cautiously, I'm thinking all I really want to do is Groovy Rhubarb, throw my whole body and soul into it, get it high off the ground and then Etsy will kick in. Donations accepted. Ideas and gentle advice welcomed. It's all so clear to me, I can hear it breathing, ready to fly.

Numbers being what they are, GR has some legs, not real long now, but...it took me until May to realize what I was going to do, then the entire concept came together really fast. I'm suddenly the only boss I'm willing to work that hard for. Am I just crazy? I believe in this project with everything I have, and it's kinda lonely out here. Oh well, that's not enough to stop me yet.

Speaking with someone Financial lately, he said to me that what I'm in the midst of is usually what people 20 years younger or older than me do, I should really be focused on building security. But he has to say that, that's what I made the appointment with him for. He was kind, and didn't completely discourage me, and made a comment about the entrepreneurial personality type, being strong-headed, and clear of vision. Sometimes a girl has to write a check for some fatherly advice and effortless money computation. He shook my hand and wished me luck and I almost cried. I'm bad that way. Then I came home to get the mail, and found a totally unexpected check from my car insurance company, nothing in the 100s, but a delight nonetheless. Thank you. Thinking of my stern German grandfather, I jumped in the car and drove to the Bavarian deli, off of Powell by the Aladdin Theater, called Edelweiss, and got some wursts, sauerkraut and horseradish, and black rye bread and made our Bavarian family stand-by meal. Sometimes you just have to do that, bring yourself all the way around to home.

Fortified with gemutlichkeit and weisswurst, I dove into the numbers, thinking of my grandpa and the lecture on practicality I would be getting if he were still alive and leaning over these papers. So I had a beer. Prost!

Short and Very Very Sweet

l to r, top to bottom:

pimped-out book cart
Molly Doll
Spiral by Andrew
Bea's Clown (toile)
Fishin' Clown (toile)
Shula's napdog
Jewels on Etsy
Hello Kitty sewing machine at Target
Felt Gateaux by Softies

Either Writing, or Not-Writing

Being so impressionable, I must admit to a certain ennui about blogging when my bookmarked list of favorite bloggers are not posting, thinking, "Wow, we of similar genius and brilliance must all be on the same no-blog-today page, and I didn't even get the memo---cool."

And, NO, I am not reading that dreaded doorstopper of a book that just came out which shall remain title-less in this space. Ee-gads, perish the thought!

I have been reading, and not magazines, some titles I found through our esteemed Multnomah County Library system, on Hollywood before the Decency Codes were enacted, pre-1938 films.
There is "Complicated Women" featuring the amazing sirens of the time, Barbara Stanwyck, Joan Crawford, Bette Davis, Greta Garbo, Kay Francis, Norma Shearer, Louise Brooks, Clara Bow, Joan Blondell, Jean Harlow, even Loretta Young and Myrna Loy. There's another title I am waiting to be returned, about the male actors in this pre-code era, and another one with huge photographs called, "Sin in Soft Focus" putting it all together. I can blame this all on finally getting the cable package with Turner Classic Movies, where you can start in the 1930s and not emerge until sometime the next day. So it has compelled me to begin reading again, perhaps finally warming up enough to read the new non-fiction Barbara Kingsolver book, "Animal Vegetable Miracle," the new novel "The Blood of Roses" about a young girl in Afghanistan (I think) who makes carpets, and another book on the new physics wave/particle field emanations theory. Summer will be over shortly.

Tomatoes have begun coming in, the SunGold and the SunSugar cherry toms, bright orange when fully ripe, and so sweet they are barely a vegetable, more like a tiny plum. The heat two weeks ago was great for the toms, but wiped out my marigolds and forced them to seed and they died all at once. Scattering seeds where the parent plant expired will hopefully return a few sprouts before November and frost, plus I replaced a few because I missed the sunny globes on the porch step planters. How can basil die so easily? Just a few days of heat, they were watered every day---I may have to cheat and buy a few big plants like I did last year from Trader Joe's. I was eating peas from my neighbors' garden this morning, and they said the patch was done for the summer. Ha! Before they left town, that is. And the pods are tender and as edible as the peas inside. Now, about the three ripe figs about to fall off the fig tree, purple as black grapes and soft---might have to bring those home. They have about 200 new green ones on their way to ripe, they won't miss these. Fig leaves, all jokes aside, are actually very elegant and beautiful, I'd never seen a real one so closely before, what a great woodcut or rubbing it would make. All jokes aside.

This is a week almost every year that I would have taken for vacation time from the store. I believe there was almost an unacknowledged agreement with myself about the bookends of February 1st--- being the first date of being jobless and also the announcement of the release of the 7th and final volume of that dreaded book, that would be occurring with accompanying frenzy on--- July 21st. A weird kind of stasis, purgatory-lite, now that That Book is out and done, not worked through like the past ten years of my work life (paperbacks, remember!) I feel absolutely free of it. A big book retail ritual that I missed completely! Imagine what being on the other side of a book retail Holiday Season will feel like? Giddiness is overtaking me. Kind of like when ending a relationship, just getting through the first set of holidays by marking little anniversaries, you really begin to let go for real. Two years on, you don't even remember to remember. Usually.

Official Re-Invention Chapter 3: Create Your Job

I'm job hunting.

Seriously job hunting.

As in "just a decent job I like to do" instead of "this is my next expedition up a corporate ladder."
(sooooo lucky that there are so many jobs out here right now)

What kind, where, what hours, what money, who with, how long, gotta get away at the holidays.

One of my friends suggested that I float on Groovy Rhubarb and not distract myself with another group of associates and workplace politics, just "do" the GR 60 hours a week and it would make money. And that is probably good advice, and partly true, just not enough money to live on yet. My strength is in idea formulating, conceptualizing, and BIG PICTURE stuff.

My weakness is in the details. "Where's My Staff?" Too much Martha, not enough Assignment Editor. My astrologer would say it's the Venus in Gemini, a double helping of an Eye for Beauty, more Snow White than the 7 Dwarves. Collaboration is great, I love it, but it has to be with the right person, and I do better with a layer between me and the masses. I can't do barista again, or even busy bookstore.

I am a Maker of Things.

Hopefully, of beautiful things, delicious things, useful things, descriptive and unusual things. Not so much a Seller of Things, although I have been known to fool people for a long time that I was. A Seller. But never, not really. I was rather a Provider of Place for Things to Be Bought. The Maker of Place, I am very very very good at. Provider of Selection of Things, again, very very good at. Hostess, Cheerleader, Girl with the Fan, not at all so much. I honestly don't want to be involved in making people buy just anything, as much as making something they feel they have to buy, or have to go to. What they do then is up to them. But I'd love it if they told everyone they know, "You've got to go get ______ at ________!!!" There is the perfect situation for me.
Completely pleased about making my living this way. Thank you, see you back soon.

Once upon a time, in a land far ago and away, lived a pretty but shy girl who loved books. Being in a village full of bookstores, she soon found the three that she loved more than anything else in the whole small world, and she made a wish. "Someday, I want to have my very own bookstore! It will be just how I want it, and I'll be able to unpack all the UPS boxes of new books, and read everything, and meet cool customers, and live so happily ever after!" The young girl had made some friends at one of the bookstores, run by a friendly beautiful Jewish Buddhist Witch, who let the girl learn things and volunteer at the store, and order cool incense and crystal necklaces, and invited the girl to participate in her Crafty Buddhistic Fairy Witch Circle. For some years, not enough in a row, the girl was happy to do this, and felt closer to her dream. But the girl had to leave the magic village by the river, and found herself somewhat closer to Hades, and very much farther away from her dream, or so she felt for a long time, too many years in a row.

One day, the now not as pretty and not as young woman found herself in a coffeehouse filling out an application to a bookstore, which back in the village had been only one tiny store, but had magically grown in size to encompass the entire whirld these many years. It was a serf's job, but she thought it would be a beginning. Unbeknownst to her, she was soon sucked into the gruesome, grinding Managers' Maw of the Underworld Corpse-oration the little bookstore had become, and she lost her soul, her name, her youth, her girlish figure, and her mind. How ironic, that this place had once been one of her favorite three bookstores back in the little village by the river.

Grasping at a glimmer of light she desperately hoped was the sun and not another red eye of the Beast, the woman slung herself across the land to another less grinding Managers' Maw of the Beast, and then soon again after to an even quieter eddy pool of swamp she called My Own Store. At last, gathering every fiber of beauty, kindness, laughter, magic, wit and whimsy, the woman wove a nest of wearying but entertaining labor of a noble sort, the bringing of magical books to the souls who wandered in while caught up in the Swirl of the CrassMall, the marble Tomb of the Unknown Salesgirl. There was, for a short time, a momentary Oasis of Knowledge and Wonder. Insanity and illogic, of course, still being an appendage of the Corpse-oration, but then suddenly, at the most insane, at the most frantically intense, the fairies were all set free.
The spell was broken, the ring of fire became gentle rain, passing to the clear blue sky and happy sun above and plenty of hours to sleep and be rested. There was much rejoicing.

And the woman had a large View of Realization---having emerged from this tale of enslavement and enchantment, two of her biggest wishes in her entire life had been granted. First of which was to have her very own bookstore, that had her stamp upon it, and she had completed the fulfillment of that wish. The Second Wish, well, meeting Robert Plant in her very own bookstore was pretty much the Sword from the Stone kind of event. She was completely and deliriously satisfied how miraculously the second wish had been fulfilled. And called everyone she knew. And cried.

And the Third Wish? Obviously to the woman, embarking on this was the next part of her journey. And, curiously enough, it was not instantly revealed to her exactly what that Wish was. She had been a stranger to herself for so many years, there was an awkward small-talk and getting reacquainted phase to accomplish, getting to know and trust this bold and free person she was becoming. Some mornings, she awoke excited and ready to live the rest of her life as this creative and fearless person. Other times, it was all just too much, she was shy and completely at a loss, alone and afraid. Her Fairy Stepsisters were off in far off lands, cranking out their own Realization Magic, and sent their love and sparkling encouragement, hugs, emails, and cackles. One afternoon, the answer to her seeking, the Vision of the Third Wish bloomed in her mind, and she felt a relief to her many questions. There was now a direction to head into, a place to look towards for her bearings. And she knew it was the right thing to do, completely.

Anything else was a path back to bondage, a compromise and distraction from her clear sight.

"All of my power, all of my gifts are in the Making of Beauty, the Creating of Beautiful Space. These years deep in the earth have shown me how to make something from meager tools and ingredients, to keep it alive and finally succeed. The Masters I have served pressed me into a Diamond of Light and from now on, I have to keep shining, keep making, keep sparking the fires of creativity.

My Third Wish is to live as an Artist, at this age I will not sell my soul again, I won't give up on what I value, I am eager to live my Genuine Life, bring to life what I see in my mind, and give it to the world. And do it again and again, as long as I live. And I'll continue on even after that."

Strategy Meeting

I'll provide the simulated snacks...from CRAFTzine, of course!

Anyway, I'm convening this meeting for a few reasons, and I'm hoping we can put some issues for discussion on the table and have a chance to contribute and brainstorm, follow a tangent or two, and finish before our virtual sugar high makes us all useless. So everyone go refill your coffee and let's get to business.

Where's Jeff? Did he go out to smoke? Let's just start.

Okay, I went to the Groovy Rhubarb booth and although finding it adequately filled with items for sale, it didn't "surprise and delight" me. Put down your weapons, I'll stop with the corporate jargon crap. We need to take this to the next level, and I have some ideas, tell me what you think. After doing some market research of my own, we need to branch out into furniture and higher ticket items, and find a funky garment display rack for the sweaters starting next month. Also, Etsy is choking with jewelry stores, so we need to research other made-item site stores with similar demographics to post jewelry on, perhaps more local to Portland. Or, maybe even our own Groovy Rhubarb store site. More admin effort from me, but no cuts taken by Etsy or another header seller, and we can do it with Paypal I think. Put that on my list to follow up and report on by next week's meeting. I want us to re-merch completely the GR booth this week, and clean the carpet and look at the prices of the slower moving items--mark down or switch out as necessary. Being peak summer, it's too early for the back to college hipsters yet, so we need to grab the strolling street shoppers and tourists. Tschochskes to take home that are light to carry and instant gratification, but also bigger ticket items to balance out the higher volume of low-end sales. Any imput?

Uh, yeah, how about hanging that brand-identity sign on the wall and adding some incense and more hippie stuff? Jambo store moved way down the street?

Perfect, great ideas. What else?

Art, like Portland postcard things, small scale but around $20?

Okay. And we can move these online, too. Great. I want to get moving on the funky hippie suncatchers and windchime-y things, inexpensive to make and fast, as well as bags and the pareao wraps, those sold.

What did you decide about the silk hair scrunchies, ready to make a come back?

Still thinking, although I have been really using my throwback one the last few weeks, it is so much softer on your hair than elastic ones. I need to mull that over some more.

We really need to cover that waterproof bag made from wild materials-thing. That would move, especially if it's obvious the material is recycled.

Yep, very hot, and fun, and one of a kind, and local, and around $20. Perfect, top of the list.

Cool, very productive, covered about everything, and we have a lot to get going on. Are we psyched? Ready to rumble? Hit the neighborhood yard sales running? Excellent. If it's raining this weekend, lets go to Value Village, Salvation Army and the Foster Rd shops and see what we can find. Meeting adjourned, back to work!

WorkSpace: The Final Frontier

Having been living La Vida Loca this weekend, three birthdays and one more tomorrow, there was little writing done. Or working. But lots of Life, the Universe & Everything chatting, drinking, snacking, and grilling. And porch sitting. With dizzying moments of those woo-woo-woo swirly, 3-D, eyes gazing skyward, "What would happen if...?" daydreaming.

What would happen if...Steven and I were off work at the same time, brainstormed how to make a fortune, and lived happily ever after next door to each other?

What would happen if my JunkWench business actually took off, and I had to actually hire on help?

What would it look like if I did house-sitting, garden-watering, pet-tending as an actual part time enterprise, so much per hour, many references, early AM hours preferred? Like $20 per hour or per visit minimum, here's my card.

How much does it cost to get a trailer hitch put on, and find an itty bitty trailer to haul stuff around instead of getting a truck?

Will the universe bless me with limitless abundances if I haul a bunch of stuff I don't know what to do with to the curb with a big "FREE" sign on the tree? Will this stoke my Good Karma? Will the neighbors complain?

Suddenly, I am revisiting my urge to design furniture, and have found some sympathetic souls who appreciate affordable modern chair design. Should I concede defeat to the IKEA gods and just forget the whole idea? Is this the seductive voice of the Viking trickster god Loki leading me like a lemming off the cliff?

Steven suggested finding an agreeable intimate friend to share householding with, two living more cheaply than one, go in on a house together...and I said, "You mean sex for money?" He gave me that patient look, like I'm the last dance hall girl holding up the bar on a Saturday night.
"No, silly, a caring roommate or friend," and I remarked that at this point I was much more likely to find a job. Then he quit talking to me.

The Perfectionist is wreaking havoc with my Inner Buddha. "Don't you even think about painting canvases until you get that studio space completely organized!" "Focus on the money-making projects, don't squirrel around with the fun art stuff until you're making some more money." We all know this tyrant. The one who also makes you buy the 99 cent shampoo that gives you troll hair. "Don't you dare get the Pantene until you are making money!"

The curious thing, is that I am basically living the daydream life I always envisioned while on an interminable conference call with the mute button on the whole two hours, or taking another 6 hour register shift during Christmas, or sort of enjoying my day off while dreading the phone ringing at any moment to break the spell. Except for the $10 million dollars part, that is, from the amazing book deal/movie rights/wheelie suitcase full of unmarked $100 bills on the curb part. Or even, say, lower 6 figures to get warmed up from some genius idea I sold for fun and profit. I have that life right now---with less than a month to fire up the Money Generay-tor.

Being a very creative person, I am receptive to ideas from other people, and I spend much time going off into Brainstorm Mode, don't make any prejudicial limits here. When I know damn well that I want to futz with fabric and fibers, funky vintage stuff, paints and writing, webstuff and digital images, and not ever wear a name tag ever again. Even one of those name stickers you are supposed to write your name on illegibly in hotel ballrooms with bad coffee.
"HELLO! I'M trying to play nice today."

Now don't spread this around, but I've even thought about putting an apron on again and working for a caterer, as long as I never have to deal with the clients in any shape whatsoever.
I can make all the food, even platter it up if you insist, but Mrs. Hargrove and I must never breathe the same air. You schmooze, I'll make the kugel.

In the meantime, I'm off to fluff-and-puff the Groovy Rhubarb booth, add some new stock, and figure out how to get a large antique trunk from my basement to the House of Vintage. This trunk alone could make the month for me. How about one of those four coaster-wheel moving dollies and a short rope? I'll drive really slow through the neighborhood and only make 2 right turns. These are moments when you pay the price for all this rugged individualism.

Storms & Earthquakes

Quite the week for weather. If you can call a 3.2 earthquake weather.

I was asked if I felt it here in Southeast, and I had to say, I didn't. I was home, watching TV. And since I usually do notice the little house doing the magic fingers dance, I was surprised that I didn't notice it this time.

"What were you watching?" came next.
"Uh---okay, I'll tell you. Turner Classic Movies had on 'Faster Pussycat, Kill Kill', and I had never seen it before, it was rather absorbing."
"You're kidding."

It's good to get caught up on the cult film millieu, now I'll get the tossed off references to it, and it made me laugh. I just kept thinking, "My dad in his 20s would have loved this movie at the drive-in, I wonder if he saw it?" Cars, broads, racing, crime spree, ridiculous dialogue, really heavy eyeliner and cleavage from sea to shining sea. I get that from him, appreciation of the ridiculous I mean.

So I missed the earthquake. But the heavy summer thunderstorm last night was an utter delight. The build-up of humidity, the darkening horizon and distant flashes, the hovering silence in the trees, then the faint scent of mossy lakeside as first one then a dozen loud drops come down like ball bearings. There wasn't much wind, and only distant lightning and thunder, but we did have a great show from the second story windows, and a few washes of rain before it was all over. And you might expect it to cool off after the storm blew through, but it didn't until a few hours later, when some wind rose and carried off some of the heat and humidity of the day.
Freshly damp summer pavement. Nothing else smells like that. I slept like a brick.

Being cloudy and cool, I get a break from watering duties today, and the local weather dudes say the 100 degree days are over for now. Between the earthquake, heat waves, storms, fires, and ping-pong sized hail, one is looking skyward and expecting locusts, frogs, flies, and other biblical type special effects. I mean, I don't, but to hear people marvel at it, you'd think these things never happened at all until the last 10 years.
Of course, it all happened, we just didn't have 84 gazillion news sources yammering at us 24-7 to whip us up into a frenzy.

A sudden summer thunderstorm here in Oregon is unusual, and I enjoyed it. In the other hot place I used to live, they are violent, frequent, and cause unexpected flooding, and your power goes out all the time. We not only took them for granted, funnel clouds, water spouts and hurricanes made us all amateur meteorologists. Like here we all talk about gardening. Or coffee. Or microbrews. Or athletic shoes.

While I was out watering yesterday morning, a group of neighbors and their elderly visiting family strolled by, and they commented on the lush strip gardens by the street, and all the spent roses in everyone's garden. "What you folks here need is a good rain!" said one of the older men. "Not til September," I said.
I think I'm going to start rain dancing when I'm out with the hose. If I have on one of my tie-dyed t-shirts, you'll know it's me. Say "Hi!".

Day Two on Planet Demon Solar Inferno!

Day Two on Planet, 100-Degrees, Full Solar Array

Do all required missions and exploration of nearby alien villages before the demon solar inferno rises above a 45 degree angle to the horizon. While it is unadvisable to ingest the native fermented barley liquid while operating the valuable TerraLander equipment, it seems to be the preferred refreshing beverage among the aliens here in the most severe heat of the Terra Day. Must make notes for further investigation and possible experiments with this golden grain "water", that flows here like water does on our Home Planet. Instead of layering on more protective clothing to shield them from the demon solar inferno, the aliens reveal almost every fragment of their fragile skins, making almost a pretense of being clothed, whereupon they begin to burn, turn red and perspire what must surely be 100% "beer", the aliens' word for their fermented barley liquid. They appear to ingest little else during this demon solar season, and the shelves of their mercantile hubs are cleared of even the most inferior version of this "beer". As the demon solar inferno lowers below a 45 degree angle to the horizon, the aliens then proceed with another very curious custom, again specific to this heat season, of making flaming sacrifices to their gods, involving elaborate fire devices, slabs of sacred animals, fowl and even sea creatures, again accompanied by copious drinking of their ritual "beer". When their young are present, these sacrifices usually remain on the tame level, but when involving only sexually mature adults, utter mayhem predictably ensues, debauchery, staggering movements, unconscious jerking motions known to them as "dancing", and loud calls to nearby adult groups to "dragyerassover", whatever that may mean in the native dialect.
This planet does not appear to be technologically advanced to the level of inventing air conditioning, and seems content to suffer the demon solar inferno yearly, perhaps providing the aliens with a socially approved season of mass consumption of the chilled golden barley liquid in some sort of as yet not understood harvest festival ritual. Much further study is required here by the TerraTeamScientists to better understand this planet and its inhabitants, as well as some probable hands-on experiments with their curious substances they use ritually---for example:

bar-bee-cue sauce----blood-colored liquid poured onto the animal sacrifices-what does it mean?? More tribute to their demon solar fire gods?
mar-gar-ree-tah--pond water like liquid with crunchy salt crystals--why? which of their heathen gods does this worship?
poe-tay-toe-sal-id---easily prone to spoilage, this paste of ground-fruit chunks and various other vegetables in small pieces with a yellow and/or white gel of some kind is extremely popular, with local variations depending on regional preferences and how close the aliens are to discovering ice and other cold technologies. Usually containing eggs, must be some sort of fertility ritual food.

I will file the remainder of my daily report after spending more time amongst these aliens during this Demon Solar Inferno Day. One of the TerraTeam has to launch a ruthlessly thorough experiment with this golden barley liquid, and we are meeting in the lab to decide which of us will direct it. "Going Undercover in Full Disguise" will be required. As the demon solar inferno is climbing even higher on the horizon, I must sign off and begin my experiments for today. One is to construct a shade cloth to protect the fragile plantlings from the direct rays of the D.S.I. in our PlantLab, also to foray to the other TerraTeam outpost to feed and monitor the cats and plantlings at that PlantLab, and also to run a distance mission to the alien refugee mercantile hub where we have established a stealth location to monitor local alien buying habits and to acquire some of their currency. As always, the TerraTeam hopes the D.S.I. will not harm our equipment or sap all of our precious and endangered Terra Braincells and Neurosynapses. Perhaps the chilled "beer" provides some protection to the aliens in this regard.

Getting Ready For 100 Degrees

At least it's not humid, I keep reminding myself. And there are no hurricanes. Or thunderstorms and lightning, for that matter. But---there is no air conditioning, either. After having spent 7 summers here in Portland, I am still amazed at the lack of AC around here. Not complaining about my landlady here, I found a tidy window unit at Freds for under a $100, and it keeps me from jumping out the window at over 95.

I know I have to explain that in Florida, people have central air, maybe not heaters so much, but compressor units the size of municipal mailboxes behind their houses. The humidity makes this necessary, because I'd really rather not have to describe how mold and mildew take over if you don't have it. It's part of the modern house and shop or car, like having electricity or cash registers. It is not an option. All cars have it as a standard feature. Like a steering wheel. It dries the sweat you worked up just walking between the car and the door of anywhere you're going and keeps you from looking like a wet tissue paper party favor.

So my inquiring thought is---after at least 7 straight summers of weeks over 90 and days over 100 on a predictable basis, let's bite the bullet y'all and get air conditioning. What is the issue here? Is it energy usage? Okay, fair enough question. The Energy Star sheet that came with my low end window model says that it would cost only $34 a year if I ran it for 750 hours. That's 10 hours a day for 60 days, plus another 10 days at 15 hours a day. That would be from mid-June until the end of August. Not even close to how infrequently I use it in July and August, but for my personal comfort, it is well worth the one time cost of $100 and then $35 each summer to be comfortable when it's this hot. People spend more than that for a weekend at the coast, ONE WEEKEND. Gimmie the AC!

Okay, so I took care of my own personal at-home comfort. What is everyone else waiting for? I don't get it, is this a homesteader thing, "my covered wagon hard-assed ancestors wore long woolen underwear and long skirts all summer long, I don't need no stinkin' city-folk air conditioning" kind of tough man contest? I even have an east facing sleeping porch, so I know these tough wagoneers had good sense and built for hot days as best they could. And I'm lucky enough to have a downright chilly finished basement, but my suite is on the top floor, I prefer to have the cool air up thar. We have the technology, y'know? We spend thousands on computer and phone and internet stuff, maybe AC is too low tech, more an appliance and not sexy enough.

The summer 4 years ago I spent days and days after work going from the bathtub filled with cold water to the lawn chair set up in my living room with beach towels and a fan, I thought, "Our esteemed President may be in denial about climate change, but I know he's not sitting in the Oval Office in a damp lawn chair and a wet bathing suit spread-eagled in front of a box fan," and I resolved to get me an air conditioner before the next June rolled to the front. And I did.
I love it, and it works for me even better when I park it on the north side of the house. The other supplies I picked up along the way were icy cold mint shampoo soap and cooler freeze packs, for the neck, lower back and behind the knees, just in case the compressor freezes up. It's only the size of a microwave, not Florida-caliber, but it does the trick. And the Dr Bronner's Peppermint will hit it hard, especially washing your hair and leaving it in a few minutes too long----what headache?
So I'm ready, planned my strategy, and think that seedless watermelon diet is the best idea for the next few days.
Even my favorite yarn store "Yarn Garden" got AC a few years ago! I mean, c'mon!!

Lost Dog

I want to say this story has a happy ending, but the 8 Ball Psychic keeps saying "Not Likely" in those eerily blue floating letters.
Every moral fiber in my being is screaming at me to do something, and I know that doing anything to intervene is not good sense. Being a mushy hearted animal lover has its price, and this afternoon I am grinding my teeth down and staying in the house.

Sometime early this morning, the neighbors' dog ran away. No one was surprised, but we all were sad and concerned, and some of us angry. 'Great, one more thing to punish the dog for doing that is your irresponsibility, dumb ass!' I'm thinking, knowing he had no tags on, too.

Being Portland, Land O' Dog Lovers, some kind soul took him to the shelter right away, so by the time the owner showed up 8 hours later, the dog was there, ready to go.

Honestly, I was kind of hoping some loving homeowner would adopt him and save him from future misfortune, like running away again after being punished for running away, and getting hurt in traffic. But then, if anyone could provide a loving home for this dog, I'd much prefer that I had a chance to adopt him, since I've watched him grow into a fine young dog from a clumsy sweet puppy, and just fell in love with him myself. He's the type of breed that can scare people, but here on the street we all know he's a sweet lug and is always ready to play.

So---for good or for bad, he's back home now, unhurt and his usual happy puppy self, while his owners are still fighting over who's fault it is that he got away. I just wish I could do something, I hate feeling so helpless, he would be so much safer and happier here at my house. And being a valuable breed, the owner would never just give him away. Other than standing by in case he'd change his mind and want to be rid of the responsibility completely (the little he takes on), the only role I have is Observer, but today it was tough to walk away.

Cha-ching!

I'm so happy, all cashed in and no one around to celebrate with.
Linsey is driving to Denver.
Jolie is in FLA.
Steven is driving to the Coast for work.
Betty is in FLA.
Peg is at work.
Kathy is on Whidbey Island.
Can I bug Harvey? No--too many service vans in front of his house installing stuff. I need some more friends. Okay, so back to work it is then.

Edina left me a note, congrats that my first month was good, it's only the beginning! Now I see why people sell furniture there, more bang for the buck. Gotta get on that this month. Also raise my prices, because after surveying the other booths, my merchandise is on the lower end. Plastic is good over $10 purchases, so round it up when in doubt. I'm so excited!

Since it isn't reaching 100 degrees this week like it was predicted, I can actually get some things done in the house, like almost completely setting up my home office yesterday. Everything except moving the computer, so that will be today. I also found out that Southeast is fully out of reasonably priced tomato cages, so we'll have the Martha-esque look after all, wonderful slender bamboo stakes and sisal tastefully tied off, to bear the precious burden of the heirloom Zapotecs, Black Prince, and Black Brandywines in my future. In the Race to the Fruit, the four cherry tomatoes are surpassing the three slicer plants significantly, so it's time to work some Green Magic out there. A wind chime, some crystal pendants, Baroque music in the morning. I've been dreaming of a tomato surplus for years, and I want it to happen this summer, I can sell them on Saturday and Sundays at Groovy Rhubarb. Think of the lycopenes...

One of my former colleagues emailed me yesterday to catch up and say "Hi", and told me a bit about the old sales team, who's ahead so far, summer sales blockbuster preparations, the politics of old. It all seemed so far away. Has it been six months since Christmas already? Six months since we began shutting down our two stores in the midst of holiday insanity crowds and life uncertainty? Six months since I felt a tad panicked about not being a store manager for Large Chain Bookstore after over ten years, who am I now? Knowing I had a lot of time to figure it out and not to panic?
Yep. My separation process is just about complete, I've made great progress in finding out who I am after all these years in the machine. I didn't melt, fall apart, run sobbing to beg for my old job back, or walk around twirling my hair and 'saving' people in shopping malls. Life has been good, and I truly believe will continue to be. Money details are in process of being worked out, and the whole "status" of my "career" has been abandoned for the much more worthwhile purpose and over-all quality of life exploration. Not to veer into being maudlin, but it's been a meaningful six months. I miss playing with cool new books, trading one-liners with Linsey and the crew, and the money was okay. At the end of the day, it wasn't my store. But Groovy Rhubarb is, and the sketchbook is full of ideas for new money-generating items to spread into the world for some cash, and the beginning is in the black. I'm in total Groovy Gratitude.

Gadget Fever

The hacker inside me loves finding the other iPhone hacker articles---

here's one from the unofficial apple weblog, sponsored by Best Buy (heh heh) with lots of comments and tweaking ideas that I found entertaining, although these guys are mostly trying to avoid the AT&T glitch. Imagine the courage involved in actually prying apart your newly purchased $600, perfectly operating as-is iPhone, and taking it apart. Where angels fear to tread, in my opinion.
I'm going to find an Altoids box and make up a mock iPhone, an Ahrt project, so to speak, just for fun. Somehow, about 1997, I got bitten by the gadget fever tick, novus computerus inadequatus, it is incurable, and I'm not even close to being in recovery. Forget the iPhone, have you seen the coolest new laptops under $600 lately? 17" screens, gamer graphics capabilities, Windows Vista Home Premium, 250GB, 2GB RAM, a zillion extras, and under 5 lbs? My 2002 Sony is looking very matronly and slow lane only these days. sigh Maybe next year...

My newly upgraded home built desktop is humming along at light speed, and I am very very satisfied with it, and glad I did all the upgrades while I was still employed. Its cool blue case lights will console me until the new laptop is welcomed into the gadget family. The cell phone is also blue, as is the street bike I picked up yesterday, my sewing machine, my Kitchen-Aid mixer, all vivid deep blues. Gadget Fever. "I gotta fever, babies, I gotta have more cowbell," it's like that for me, "explore the space with it." Thought about a heavy-duty blender for making paper, they were on sale, in cobalt blue---but I stopped myself, and realized I could do it in the Kitchen-Aid cobalt blue mixer. That was a close one.
My kingdom for a sleek new printer...

Groovy Rhubarb Shows Positive Cash Flow

Today being July 1st, the one month anniversary of launching the booth in the House of Vintage, I moseyed over there to re-merchandise, scope the foot traffic on a pleasantly warm Sunday, and, maybe drop off a rent check.

The owner Edina was there, computating the final month of June's disbursements, and I said I needed to drop her a rent check.
"I'll have checks ready by Tuesday, come back anytime then, okay?" she said.
"Uh, okay, I wasn't sure what the June's receipts were going to add up to---"
"Oh, you made money, I owe you a check," she interrupted.
"Wow, great," I offered lamely. "See you then," and she said, "I told you you'd do okay, didn't I?"

This is so cool, and great for my confidence, and heartening to think that I'm on to something here, I MADE A GOOD CHOICE IN THE LURCH OF UNCERTAINTY!!! So I went ahead and bought a few 50-cent vintage family photos that had this older tall guy always wryly smiling, standing in front of a koi pond-kind of thing in the 1940s with rather dour older women, and in one group shot, he's sitting with a doll in one arm and a goofy rubber ball on the table next to him. I'd loved to have met this guy. Really a card.

House of Vintage was thick with customers, and I had to endure the absolute worst Rolling Stones album I've ever heard, something from the 90s I think, so I sauntered over to the bigger warehouse side with mostly furniture, and watched groups of early 20-somethings modeling for each other, squealing over rather fuggly 70s clothing, and getting into a Bowie-esque song with Cocteau Twins overtones. Much better. Lots of purchasing. Exxx-cellent.

I can be devoted to this enterprise with minimal retail baggage, and it will only pick-up when school starts and all the students return to equip their retro flats. Send me the good vibes, dig?