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...

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...

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.

Poetry in the Post Office

I don't have a lot of time to write these days. Quite frankly, I don't have a whole lot of time for anything. The past three weeks I've been working 6 days a week. With the hour long commute in each direction that means I get home in the evening ready to do nothing in particular. With the introduction of TV and internet back into our house as of Friday, that means I'm one again thankful to erase any thoughts in design heaven, or smother them with images of fanciful food. Perhaps the fact that my house looks more like we're about to move out than in, and the kitchen has yet to be cooked in (except when my parents visited and did the cooking for us a bit ago) makes this guilty pleasure even more pathetic, but also necessary.

So I can't say that I feel like much of a writer at the moment. My novel is still in the hands of reviewers, and I haven't even had the energy to check in with any of them. I'm still getting regular e-mails from self pub outfits, and I'm just stockpiling them in my inbox along with all the ads for high priced gadgets, fabulous home decor (which would no doubt clash with the brown flowered couches that are older than me but still look essentially new), sweet scented soaps, and photo developing services. I keep saying that once I get into a flow I'll have time to start up Czech lessons, get more writing done, start journaling again, and connect with human beings outside of my work environment. But figuring out when normalcy is going to hit, or when I'm going to resign myself to the fact that work and TV are about all I have time for anymore if I want to maintain my sanity, I don't know. Every now and again I ponder those new year's revolutionary ideas, and then I start thinking about finances again and everything else disappears. I certainly did not see this future as we stood in the snow in Marianske Lazne watching Karel's fireworks sparkle dazzlingly in the sky.

In the end, all I can really say is, we have twentieth century poet stamps for sale in the post office, and that makes my little English major heart swell with joy. Sylvia Plath on a stamp. Is there any other word for that than "magical?" I think not.

Who Saw This Coming?

I'm still at work, and therefore not on a machine I can upload pictures to, so this will sadly be another blank piece. We have ordered internet for home, and should rejoin the connected world on Friday. Hopefully, when we get the internet revamped here at work, I'll be able to use my iPad here during those summer down months everyone keeps telling us we're going to have...

Anyhow, as odd as it all appears, owning a card shop and post office was meant to be. When I was 9 I started my card selling career in order to raise money for Christmas gifts. Every Autumn my Dad and I would brave the blustery drives along the Klamath and Scott River roads, sending the little fog ghosties scurrying away as we offered the local residents the ability to shop from home. Dad saw it as a great opportunity to visit with people he wouldn't necessarily have an excuse to see, while I spent the evenings wishing he wasn't quite so chatty so I could make more sales.

This tradition continued all the way through High School, and went hand in hand with my insatiable letter writing phase. I began my pen pal lettter writing career around the same time, with friends from camp and school exchanges, as well as college aged siblings. After moving from Horse Creek, CA to Blodgett, OR, my letter writing skyrocketed as I would send in excess of ten letters a week back to my friends on the river. Postage was a wee bit cheaper back then, and the internet had scarcely been invented, so my parents thought it was a pretty good deal.

Due to my writing and mailing fixations, when I took a business class in high school (the only way I could learn more about computers and keep my typing skills functioning) we did a city simulation in which I ran the post office. Eerie, isn't it?

Perhaps the funniest part of all is that I didn't even think about any of these things when Mark first brought up the advertisement for a card/gift shop, and post office business for sale. It wasn't until we had made it through the harrowing negotiating process, and managed to land the lease, the business and the postal contract that I realized just how much I had been training for this opportunity. God really does work in mysterious ways :)

I still can't say I've become business minded, or that the prospect of figuring out how to do taxes next fills me with glee, but the actual job is far more interesting than I ever thought it would be. We're working in a great neighborhood in Southwest Portland, meeting lots of lovely people, and falling in love with cards all over again.

I haven't forgotten about my writing. When I think about the goals I set for myself at the beginning of the year I cringe a bit in the face of all the new responsibilities I have taken on, but the desire to still have a personal life remains. Guess I'll just have to wait and see how it all plays out, but at least I'm writing again, bit by bit...

March Madness and April Angst...

Fallen off the face of the earth? Well, not exactly. More like, fallen into business. Of all the most random things. It's really quite a story. And one of these days I'll have a few minutes to spare and an internet connection in my own home, and I'll fill in those missing details. For now, I'll keep it brief in order to keep up appearances.
We got back to the US and jumped straight into the frightening world of negotiating to buy a store. About the craziest thing you've ever heard? I could say the same. Perhaps I should always have known it was meant to be. I sit here in the Holliday Card Shoppe, a business owner, selling cards like I started doing when I was nine in order to buy my family Christmas presents. Now I'm doing it full time in order to, well, live.
So the writing has fallen behind. After fifteen years of writing EVERY day in my journal, I haven't opened my most recent one in more than a month and a half. I've a feeling I won't be able to fill in every moment of every day that I've missed over the past couple months, but I'll try to slowly recreate the turmoil and the terrifying thrills that have led us to this moment.
Forgive the hiatus, but there should be something of note coming in the future.
Thanks for peeking back in, and I do hope to be back to my old ways again shortly.

Customer Service FAIL!

When you travel you have to be prepared to come across things you like, and things you don't. Whether it's in your own country or abroad, people have different ways of behaving that might not always be quite up to par with your own thoughts on how things should be. It's something you just have to accept, right? Go with the flow and all of that.

In some cases this is definitely true. When I was first training to teach English in the Czech Republic the leaders constantly harped at us about how important it was to be flexible. It got old, but it was true. It's good to embrace new traditions and ways of looking at the world. Doing so has helped me to improve who I am as a person.

The other day I went shopping and in front of the mall I experienced my first ever pig killing feast. While I obviously don't want to watch a pig being slaughtered every day, this is an age old custom in the Czech Republic, and I can appreciate it as that. The reason pigs are considered good luck is because if you had enough money for a pig, then you were doing very well for yourself. The whole village would come together to celebrate by killing a pig and using every part of it. This was not about cruelty to animals, or being unsanitary. (Note: the EU is trying to ban, or at the very least control, this practice due to "health concerns.") It was about providing food for the people. It is represented in cultural art, and is especially important in the smaller villages. I am flexible enough to handle this, even if it isn't something I want to make a part of my daily (or even yearly) life.

While we watched them clean out the pig, my Mom-in-law, who happens to be a nurse, was describing to me what all the internal organs were. Shockingly enough, I actually understood most of the terms. I do know some Czech! The second two pictures are of our anniversary cake.

So whether you agree with certain cultural practices or not, it is important to at least try to understand them. I'm sure by this point people are starting to wonder about the title to this post, and I promise I'm about to get to it. See, the thing is, there are some things that I have a really hard time accepting. Bad customer service is one of those things. I don't care what country you live in, when you are in a position where you were with customers, being polite should always be at the top of your list.

I could name plenty of instances where this has very much NOT been the case. I'll stick with two for now. Keep in mind, I have had plenty of good experiences with service people as well, and these are extreme cases, so please don't see this as a reason not to visit this incredible country.

The first example took place during the summer of 2010. I think I wrote about it back then, but it's long enough ago that people might not remember ;) It was a hot summer day and I was in desperate need of a drink. In the center of town, prices are always higher because there are a lot of tourists, so I decided to pop into a little potraviny (food store) thinking I could get a decent price. I found a bottle of water for less than a dollar US and I went to pay. The only bill I had was 200KC, which is roughly $10. Not a big deal, right? Wrong. The cashier refused to take the bill. Even when I showed her that I honestly did not have anything smaller, she refused and pulled the bottle of water off the counter. Ridiculous much? I was angry enough to tell her in English that she was terrible, and then walked out never to purchase anything else there again.

Today example number two took place. My husband and I went to buy some nice chocolate for his dad's birthday. We went to the little local store and picked out some expensive chocolate. Keep in mind, we are a married couple. I was dressed in high quality clothes. He was wearing a black coat. One of the nice things in Czech is that people always greet each other in stores. It's all very polite. This was a small store in our local community, but the cashier did not greet us. I paid for the chocolate and she looks at my husband and tells him to empty his pockets. Um, come again? That's right. She treated him like a thief for no reason at all. Goodness, it's a junky grocery store, and we paid for expensive chocolate. What is wrong with people sometimes? The worst bit was that she didn't even seem to feel the least bit sorry for asking him to do that, even though he quickly proved that he didn't steal anything, and pointed out how ridiculous it would be for him to steal a 50 cent candy bar when he was already paying for something much more expensive.

All this to say, there are things that you just have to expect when you travel, but that doesn't mean they will all be pleasant or necessary.