A woman came in the shoppe today with her three year old granddaughter. They wandered around here and there looking at a variety of things. It was near closing time, so I sat at the front desk, listening to their interactions. It wasn't long before the inevitable conversation took place: you can look, but don't touch.
I purposely have very clear memories of being a small child. At an early age, I determined not to forget the feelings that burned inside of my young spirit. Being talked down to drove me bonkers. Discovering bits of onion in my food set my teeth on edge. Drinking powdered milk kicked in my overly developed gag reflex. (The list of food issues could go on for ages...) and every trip to the fabric store filled me with a burning desire to touch EVERYTHING.
I can't help but wonder what it is about small children that makes every experience so intense. I've been told scientifically that taste buds change with age. Yes, I do willingly eat things I once termed to be barfola. Our emotional skin hardens to the insults that once rocked our worlds. We learn the borders in society that frown upon inappropriate behaviors that start as innocent fascination in the young.
I guess my question is, what do we lose as we move away from early discovery, and become the people society expects us to be? I'm not suggesting shuffling off all the shackles of social norms, but perhaps we could all benefit from taking a moment to run our fingers over the rough and sparkly surface of a handmade card, or let our hands caress the bolts of fabric in the aisles, at least as long as we make sure to wash them first ;)
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Thursday, August 16, 2012
How Cool Can 80* Be???
Portland is going through a touch of a heat wave these days. Fine by me, but the natives are grumbly. You'd think 300+ days of gray, drippy, depressing weather would be enough for them, but apparently that is not the case. After two days of weather over the 80* mark they start to let me know how unfavorable they find the temperature.
Having a shop that sells chocolate, and also caters to an older set, running the air conditioner on these toasty days is essential. Now, I will admit that temps over 100 can be a bit much, but it's still a far cry from the intense heat in Redding, CA, or the extreme humidity in Hong Kong. All the same, I've enjoyed telling the people who have commented on how nice and cool it is in the shoppe today, that I have the thermostat set at 80. Guess it just shows how relative things are...
We're hoping to do some deep cleaning here at the shoppe this weekend, which will no doubt make us even more thankful for the cool breeze. We want to get things looking all nice and fresh before we load the place up for the holidays. Guess I'll be pushing for the blessings of commercialism this time around...like I said, it's all relative.
Having a shop that sells chocolate, and also caters to an older set, running the air conditioner on these toasty days is essential. Now, I will admit that temps over 100 can be a bit much, but it's still a far cry from the intense heat in Redding, CA, or the extreme humidity in Hong Kong. All the same, I've enjoyed telling the people who have commented on how nice and cool it is in the shoppe today, that I have the thermostat set at 80. Guess it just shows how relative things are...
We're hoping to do some deep cleaning here at the shoppe this weekend, which will no doubt make us even more thankful for the cool breeze. We want to get things looking all nice and fresh before we load the place up for the holidays. Guess I'll be pushing for the blessings of commercialism this time around...like I said, it's all relative.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Days of Uncertainty...
I've been trying to answer the question of who I am lately, and coming up befuddled. I've always been... I hesitate to use the word "cheap," so let's say "economical." There really has never been any other option in my life. Now, however, I own this store, which is driven by people buying things. I NEED people to buy things. Not just things that are on sale, but preferably the full priced merchandise. The thing is, it goes against what I would do personally, so I feel conflicted in the process.
When a person looks around a while, then leaves without a purchase, I find myself questioning what went wrong. "We have so many lovely cards and fun gifts, why didn't they get anything?" I ask myself. But how many times have I done the very same thing, never once thinking about how the person behind the counter might be feeling.
On quiet Saturdays, like today, I find myself willing people in off the streets, hoping they'll be overtaken by a need for fudge or a truffle, envisioning their delight in pop up cards, colorful scarves, or the beautiful photos in the cookbooks we have on display. But if I was in their position, I'd likely look around a while, then convince myself not to spend.
In this era of crisis, I keep finding information on how to save more and go without new things. That's all fine and good, and I do it all the time, but how can I justify that attitude next door to the need to keep our store running? Baffling, no?
Then I think of writing, I see my sad, neglected blog, my dusty journals, and my still unpublished manuscripts. Can I claim to be a writer? Am I still justified in longing for someone to buy a card, while denying myself to even enter a shopping mall? So many things to ponder as I sit and watch a fly buzzing along the shop window without a care in the world...
When a person looks around a while, then leaves without a purchase, I find myself questioning what went wrong. "We have so many lovely cards and fun gifts, why didn't they get anything?" I ask myself. But how many times have I done the very same thing, never once thinking about how the person behind the counter might be feeling.
On quiet Saturdays, like today, I find myself willing people in off the streets, hoping they'll be overtaken by a need for fudge or a truffle, envisioning their delight in pop up cards, colorful scarves, or the beautiful photos in the cookbooks we have on display. But if I was in their position, I'd likely look around a while, then convince myself not to spend.
In this era of crisis, I keep finding information on how to save more and go without new things. That's all fine and good, and I do it all the time, but how can I justify that attitude next door to the need to keep our store running? Baffling, no?
Then I think of writing, I see my sad, neglected blog, my dusty journals, and my still unpublished manuscripts. Can I claim to be a writer? Am I still justified in longing for someone to buy a card, while denying myself to even enter a shopping mall? So many things to ponder as I sit and watch a fly buzzing along the shop window without a care in the world...
Sunday, July 22, 2012
The Quest for Beauty
My life is full of routines. It's a must really. I depend on routine in order to be certain that important things are accomplished. I function best when I have a schedule. It is far to easy to become complacent and lazy when I don't have a clear view of what needs to be done.
But when life becomes routine, even when busy, it is easy to lapse into a different form or complacency. Things become mundane, and beauty is lost. I may not be the girliest of girls, but I do have an appreciation for beauty, and a need to experience it in my life on a regular basis.
Recently, I have become enamored with the blog of a friend of mine that I met in Hong Kong. We weren't particularly close, but we attended the same church and hung out together in groups. But I never really got to know her well. As most people realize, Facebook has made it possible to connect with the people you never really got to know very well, or knew once upon a time, but lost track of. A post here and there pops up, and occasionally leads to a new development in that relationship. This is one of those cases.
I started reading her blog and found myself transported to a world where beauty still exists. She posts beautiful pictures, and writes about lovely things. Something about going there just feels lavish. I needed that. Just a little jolt of something more to remind me that life in this moment is precious, and there is still beauty in this world.
I drive a lot these days. It takes about an hour to get to work one way. On most evenings, as I exit I-5 and head onto 99, I pass a man holding a sign "Laid Off, Now Homeless. I want to work. Anything helps." The patterns of my life, the routines of my existence, have taught me to be high suspicious of such people. I know there are jobs out there to be had. They might not be dream jobs, but they're better than standing on the street. I know there are organizations designed to help people in such situations. Churches, homeless shelters, etc. go out of their way to serve the least of these. I also know that a large number of these people just want to score easy money to support their detrimental habits.
The truth is, I've seen at least three different men working this intersection. One is young and his posture reeks of cockiness. Another is probably in his late fifties, and seems more suited to a motorcycle than anything else. The the third man has always had a look about him that made me wonder...
One of my chief concerns is to avoid enabling people like this to continue down a destructive path. I won't hand out money. But the other day I was parked only a few from him, and I knew I had an orange in my bag. So I rolled down my window and called out to the man, "Would you like an orange?"
His response was immediate, and his gratitude clearly evident. "I would love an orange," he said with utmost sincerity. He walked over to the car and I handed it to him with a smile. The truth is, we aren't flush with money right now in the slightest. I could have used that orange. But the beauty I experienced in that small gesture was truly explosive. He returned to his post and slipped the small orange into his nap sack. I rolled up my window. The light turned green, and as I began to roll forward he made eye contact and mouthed a silent "Thank You."
My eyes flooded with tears as I moved on. I don't know how he ended up on that corner. I don't know what he really needs to get himself into a better place. But he took an orange from my hand, and passed beauty back to me.
There is not enough beauty in the world, but if you open your eyes, it does still exist, even on the worst of days.
But when life becomes routine, even when busy, it is easy to lapse into a different form or complacency. Things become mundane, and beauty is lost. I may not be the girliest of girls, but I do have an appreciation for beauty, and a need to experience it in my life on a regular basis.
Recently, I have become enamored with the blog of a friend of mine that I met in Hong Kong. We weren't particularly close, but we attended the same church and hung out together in groups. But I never really got to know her well. As most people realize, Facebook has made it possible to connect with the people you never really got to know very well, or knew once upon a time, but lost track of. A post here and there pops up, and occasionally leads to a new development in that relationship. This is one of those cases.
I started reading her blog and found myself transported to a world where beauty still exists. She posts beautiful pictures, and writes about lovely things. Something about going there just feels lavish. I needed that. Just a little jolt of something more to remind me that life in this moment is precious, and there is still beauty in this world.
I drive a lot these days. It takes about an hour to get to work one way. On most evenings, as I exit I-5 and head onto 99, I pass a man holding a sign "Laid Off, Now Homeless. I want to work. Anything helps." The patterns of my life, the routines of my existence, have taught me to be high suspicious of such people. I know there are jobs out there to be had. They might not be dream jobs, but they're better than standing on the street. I know there are organizations designed to help people in such situations. Churches, homeless shelters, etc. go out of their way to serve the least of these. I also know that a large number of these people just want to score easy money to support their detrimental habits.
The truth is, I've seen at least three different men working this intersection. One is young and his posture reeks of cockiness. Another is probably in his late fifties, and seems more suited to a motorcycle than anything else. The the third man has always had a look about him that made me wonder...
One of my chief concerns is to avoid enabling people like this to continue down a destructive path. I won't hand out money. But the other day I was parked only a few from him, and I knew I had an orange in my bag. So I rolled down my window and called out to the man, "Would you like an orange?"
His response was immediate, and his gratitude clearly evident. "I would love an orange," he said with utmost sincerity. He walked over to the car and I handed it to him with a smile. The truth is, we aren't flush with money right now in the slightest. I could have used that orange. But the beauty I experienced in that small gesture was truly explosive. He returned to his post and slipped the small orange into his nap sack. I rolled up my window. The light turned green, and as I began to roll forward he made eye contact and mouthed a silent "Thank You."
My eyes flooded with tears as I moved on. I don't know how he ended up on that corner. I don't know what he really needs to get himself into a better place. But he took an orange from my hand, and passed beauty back to me.
There is not enough beauty in the world, but if you open your eyes, it does still exist, even on the worst of days.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Those Goals I Had
When I was a senior in high school my social studies teacher had us do the coolest thing. We wrote letters to ourselves five years in the future. I have no idea how seriously other people took this project, but being the weirdo I have always been, I didn't just write a note, I wrote pages and pages and pages to my future self. I had thoughts about who I would, or more importantly "should" be, and I minced no words. It bordered between being thoughtful and belligerent.
Five years later, as promised, the letter arrived. I was surprised by how judgmental I had been, disappointed by some of the goals I had not achieved, and amused at 18's naievety. There was so much I could not have known, no matter how well acquainted I believed myself to be with me.
At this point in time the writing and receiving of that letter are both distant history. In fact, last week I passed the 20th anniversary of the "epic" crash when my thirteen year old summer plans were dashed by a broken back. Life goes so quickly, and changes happen before I can even catch my breath and accept the fact that I'm not even in my twenties anymore.
Which all leads me to this post about the uncertainties of life, and the best laid plans. In January, when I was spending my days being caught up on journal writing, facebook updates, and spending hours a day writing my challenge book (which I still haven't nailed down a publishing plan for, grrr) it seemed that making a goal of reaching 100 posts this year conceivable. After all, I had never even heard of Holliday Gift Shoppe. Sure, I knew we were moving and would have to settle in and find jobs and all that sort of stuff, but I had NO clue of where life was about to take me. So now I find myself almost through June, with fewer than 30 posts, and it's clear that my bombardment of the Internet is not going so well. On the other hand, I'm a business owner now. Sounds pretty grown up, doesn't it?
I guess the question now is, what would 18 year old me think of the life I've ended up with? And what absurdities would I write to the me of the future, only to have that same future me shake her head at just how off my ideas were...
Five years later, as promised, the letter arrived. I was surprised by how judgmental I had been, disappointed by some of the goals I had not achieved, and amused at 18's naievety. There was so much I could not have known, no matter how well acquainted I believed myself to be with me.
At this point in time the writing and receiving of that letter are both distant history. In fact, last week I passed the 20th anniversary of the "epic" crash when my thirteen year old summer plans were dashed by a broken back. Life goes so quickly, and changes happen before I can even catch my breath and accept the fact that I'm not even in my twenties anymore.
Which all leads me to this post about the uncertainties of life, and the best laid plans. In January, when I was spending my days being caught up on journal writing, facebook updates, and spending hours a day writing my challenge book (which I still haven't nailed down a publishing plan for, grrr) it seemed that making a goal of reaching 100 posts this year conceivable. After all, I had never even heard of Holliday Gift Shoppe. Sure, I knew we were moving and would have to settle in and find jobs and all that sort of stuff, but I had NO clue of where life was about to take me. So now I find myself almost through June, with fewer than 30 posts, and it's clear that my bombardment of the Internet is not going so well. On the other hand, I'm a business owner now. Sounds pretty grown up, doesn't it?
I guess the question now is, what would 18 year old me think of the life I've ended up with? And what absurdities would I write to the me of the future, only to have that same future me shake her head at just how off my ideas were...
Monday, June 4, 2012
Living the Life Self-Employed
I think there is something misleading about being Self-Employed. It makes it sound as though a person is somehow in control of their destiny. It implies a certain amount of freedom and self-possession. What it really means is that suddenly EVERYTHING is upon you. The "really" fun part is having no clue what "everything" entails.
Maybe it has something to do with laziness, but I've always rather enjoyed letting someone else worry about the details. Just tell me what to do, and chances are, I can manage to do it. But leave it up to me to figure everything out, and it's almost guaranteed to be a mistake.
Sure, I can manage to travel around the world on my own. I can manage my own money, and make sure the most important details are taken care of, but this is a little beyond that. I'm not trying to complain. I'm just trying to figure out what all the hoopla is about being a self-employed business owner. Rather than feeling like I have discovered financial freedom, I've managed to reinstate a frenzied level of stress and worry that has my back tied in ridiculous knots. Sadly, I'm a long way from a Chinese or Balinese spa treatment. (sigh)
On a positive note, good things are happening all around me. Over Memorial Day weekend I was blessed to go to my friend Savana's wedding down in Seiad Valley, CA. It was amazing to be able to drive my husband down the Klamath River and introduce him to the world and some of the people from my childhood.
Then, on June first, my sister Julie had her third child. It'll be a couple months before I have the chance to give little Myrtle Lark Hopper a proper cuddling, but it's a blessing to know there's a fresh baby out there just waiting to meet her Auntie Sarah.
On Friday, my nephew Tyler rocked it on the baseball field. Not only did he score a run, he also caught three hits to right field, sending the batters straight out and helping his team take home the Oregon State Championship at the 3A level! It was so fun to be there to cheer him on, just like we cheered his little brother Jack on when his 9 and 10s little league team won state last summer.
I keep telling myself I'll post at home one of these days so I can add photos, but it keeps not happening. (sigh) At least I managed to get another round of editing done on my challenge book. Now I have to will myself to figure out how to get it out in the hands of hopefully eager readers to help boost that self-employed summer income...
Maybe it has something to do with laziness, but I've always rather enjoyed letting someone else worry about the details. Just tell me what to do, and chances are, I can manage to do it. But leave it up to me to figure everything out, and it's almost guaranteed to be a mistake.
Sure, I can manage to travel around the world on my own. I can manage my own money, and make sure the most important details are taken care of, but this is a little beyond that. I'm not trying to complain. I'm just trying to figure out what all the hoopla is about being a self-employed business owner. Rather than feeling like I have discovered financial freedom, I've managed to reinstate a frenzied level of stress and worry that has my back tied in ridiculous knots. Sadly, I'm a long way from a Chinese or Balinese spa treatment. (sigh)
On a positive note, good things are happening all around me. Over Memorial Day weekend I was blessed to go to my friend Savana's wedding down in Seiad Valley, CA. It was amazing to be able to drive my husband down the Klamath River and introduce him to the world and some of the people from my childhood.
Then, on June first, my sister Julie had her third child. It'll be a couple months before I have the chance to give little Myrtle Lark Hopper a proper cuddling, but it's a blessing to know there's a fresh baby out there just waiting to meet her Auntie Sarah.
On Friday, my nephew Tyler rocked it on the baseball field. Not only did he score a run, he also caught three hits to right field, sending the batters straight out and helping his team take home the Oregon State Championship at the 3A level! It was so fun to be there to cheer him on, just like we cheered his little brother Jack on when his 9 and 10s little league team won state last summer.
I keep telling myself I'll post at home one of these days so I can add photos, but it keeps not happening. (sigh) At least I managed to get another round of editing done on my challenge book. Now I have to will myself to figure out how to get it out in the hands of hopefully eager readers to help boost that self-employed summer income...
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Oh The People You'll Meet
Life is such a random trip sometimes. You never know when someone will walk into your life carrying poetry in their hearts. Or when an appreciative eye will recognize a work of art correctly positioned. It's a slow day in the shoppe, but it has lent itself well to interesting conversations.
A woman came in, noticed the poet stamps, and quoted William Carlos Williams. It's amazing how much really does depend on a red wheelbarrow... It led to a discussion of the usefulness of English degrees, as well as how they suck a bit of joy out of vapid reading... And it brought a spark of joy to my soul. Somehow it served to remind me that the lives we live matter, even on days when we seem insignificant. Her day had fallen behind schedule, but she spent a good twenty minutes just chatting with me about the joys of literature and learning. I felt somehow elevated.
Sometimes it seems that every day I'm reminded more and more how little I know, and what a dramatically huge step I've taken into uncertainty by buying a business. I don't know squat about running a business. Filing taxes is a deep dark dread that makes me quiver. A calendar of the Czech Republic on the wall at home, and a week spent watching an episode of Prostreno every night on the computer, reminds me of other lives lived, and how very distant that relatively care free life is now removed from my future.
Poetry, however, has not been forgotten. And the bits of art that are cropping up on the walls reminds me that there is beauty all around, just waiting to be expanded upon. Even in the face of gargantuan uncertainty there hope quietly sprouts in my heart, like the radishes and peas, cilantro and mint in our tiny clay soil garden.
A woman came in, noticed the poet stamps, and quoted William Carlos Williams. It's amazing how much really does depend on a red wheelbarrow... It led to a discussion of the usefulness of English degrees, as well as how they suck a bit of joy out of vapid reading... And it brought a spark of joy to my soul. Somehow it served to remind me that the lives we live matter, even on days when we seem insignificant. Her day had fallen behind schedule, but she spent a good twenty minutes just chatting with me about the joys of literature and learning. I felt somehow elevated.
Sometimes it seems that every day I'm reminded more and more how little I know, and what a dramatically huge step I've taken into uncertainty by buying a business. I don't know squat about running a business. Filing taxes is a deep dark dread that makes me quiver. A calendar of the Czech Republic on the wall at home, and a week spent watching an episode of Prostreno every night on the computer, reminds me of other lives lived, and how very distant that relatively care free life is now removed from my future.
Poetry, however, has not been forgotten. And the bits of art that are cropping up on the walls reminds me that there is beauty all around, just waiting to be expanded upon. Even in the face of gargantuan uncertainty there hope quietly sprouts in my heart, like the radishes and peas, cilantro and mint in our tiny clay soil garden.
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