Junking
Today is the last day of 2014. It has been a year of ups and downs, gaining and losing , letting go and holding on. I am pleased with the way most of it has taken shape. It has been a good year.
This time last year I was letting go of a company I had poured my life and total focus into for over 12 years as a full time CEO. It was like sending a child on to their own life when I walked out that front door and locked it up for the last time. But it was the beginning of a new, exciting company and experience and I was…and still am…excited to embrace it as my new life plan.
In the last year I have uprooted offices and moved into a new facility as I melded my old life and new life into a brand new vocation. Somehow all the stars have aligned, and everything has been steadily moving forward. The Lord has been good and placed amazing people in my path, and pushed me into opportunities that could only be a part of a BIG plan, and I am pretty humbled when I think about it all. Every day as I drive to the shop, meet a client, go thrift shopping for inventory and work from home I am brought to tears in gratefulness for what my life is right now. I hope that dream and the fruitfulness I am experiencing right now inside and outside never ends.
I have rid myself of three toxic relationships in the last year. Two were tearing down my business life and one adversely affecting my personal life. I cannot imagine now, on this side of that cutting away, how I stayed sane and was able to operate as well as I did during the height of those three relationships. But the strength that came in character, business savvy and sheer tenacity is seen today in my dealings with people both in my personal and professional life. I have since rid myself completely of anyone new who didn’t fit into my best life plan almost as quickly as they tried to enter, and on more than one occasion. It is difficult at times, because people come to you showing their best face and on their impeccable behavior. You can’t always see them for who they are, or are not. I have met and begun an acquaintance with some this year that I would have drawn close to my heart or brought into my business very easily in the past. But when I placed them against the acid test I have developed with the three former toxic relationships, I could see immediately and with an unreal clarity that those newest acquaintances were not genuine, real, or destined to be a part of my life after all. I was able to let go before I held on, and that was an amazing feeling. Because of this stepping back and razor-edged conscious decision-making skill I have developed, the last year has been pretty drama free with the exception of a couple of clients and one incident involving some business acquaintances. In those situations I was able to shut down the drama in record time and before it splashed onto my own life. Wow, what a grand feeling of self-control. And what a freeing feeling of knowledge that this really is a repeatable skill. It will be one of the greatest skills I will ever land in my own portfolio as a business owner or private individual. Integrity is of great value to me and I have seen the truth in Ben Franklin’s quotation ”He that lieth down with dogs shall get up with fleas.” It is refreshing and exhilarating to go to work at a place I love, with people I care about and know I am doing a great job because we are a TEAM. Being equally yoked is the only way to make the progress I want in my company and life, and I love that this was shown to me through a deep hurt and large loss in many ways. Like a phoenix, I have risen and will continue to rise.
In getting rid of things that were not beneficial in 2014, I also lost weight…a lot of it. Year to date I am almost 50 pounds lighter than this time last year. It hasn’t been a major struggle either. I just got up one day in June of this year, said to myself “Ok, it’s time to get healthy and feel good again” and I began the journey of counting calories, adjusting my lifestyle and mindset and just started listening to my inner voices again when it came to my personal care. What they say about being able to accomplish big changes only when you are ready is absolutely right, and that’s pretty much what happened to me. I was ready, and I just did it.
I started that book (in earnest) I kept saying I was going to write one day. I had written things down randomly in the past but this is a concerted effort to get it on paper so to speak, recorded and publish ready. I want to inspire someone. I want to challenge others. I want to know myself. This is what this book is about and my goal is to get it published in the next 18 months. We will see if that all pans out. It may be even sooner, and that is ok by me. Check another thing off that old bucket list.
When I reflect during the last few hours of 2014, I am content with it. I have done most of what I intended, grown through it, and have even learned to anticipate goodness and fulfillment rather than feeling anxious and insecure all the time. I turn to look into the bright, young face of 2015 and smile because I can see it taking a running jump off the good things that happened in 2014 and making its own solid destiny as it pulls me along with it and creates my next steps in the right direction. It will be interesting to see what this year holds, but not half as interesting as seeing what I hold at the end of 2015. And the most interesting discovery will surely be when the page turns next New Year’s Eve and I find out what holds me.
Tomorrow marks a very important day. It is the long-awaited retail shop opening for my estate company. It is almost surreal that it is finally here after all the months, moving, money and monumental hurdles we have passed. But…it is here. The first day of what I hope to be my greatest adventure yet.
The journey has been full of many firsts. From placing first deposits on utilities, to making first assessments of what we wanted to see happen, to moving in the first truckloads of items. We experienced our first “oh great” when the bathroom ceiling caved in under the overflow of a strained water heater. We experienced our first sale to someone who came by to just take a quick peek at the store as we were moving in. There was the first full staff work day of shelving and sorting and laughing over several voices being heard from the depths of the piles every so often saying “oooh I want to buy this!” We went through our first challenge of rezoning so we could even have a storefront in the area we had chosen to make our estate home. We were never so excited as when the unanimous vote came through from the Planning Commission and the Mayor and Aldermen…and we knew we were really on our way.
This week was full of firsts in other ways too. My 6 year old granddaughter lost her first tooth and it was on the very day she started first grade. It is so funny to see her gappy little smile and hear the softest lisp when she talks or sings the songs she is learning in theater class. Her mom was a bit teary when she told me “This is the first time I will have my first child lose a tooth…ever.” I hadn’t really thought about that till she voiced it, but that is true. This is the only time the first of my grandchildren will lose the very first grandchild tooth. Ok, enough of that…misty here for a moment myself.
I thought a bit today about how that little ole tooth got loose enough to be the first tooth lost….what it had to go through, how it all came about. Lorelai has been growing teeth since the womb, even though we didn’t all see them. Enamel was forming, along with nerves and all the gooey little stuff that teeth are made of was there all along just waiting to “become”. She had to drink only milk for a very long time, then the teeth started to cut the surface and push out into the world of her mouth. Soft food was added bit by bit, then table food cut into microscopic pieces so she could chew with her tiny little tooth buds. Once the baby teeth were fully developed she could tackle anything and everything she wanted to eat.
Then…one day the tooth started feeling funny and not quite right. It kind of ached and hurt a bit. When she would chew it would zing her and zap her gums. She began to chew on one side trying to avoid using the tooth so it would feel like it used to and not hurt anymore. But eventually this wasn’t working because the tooth was loosening its grip in her gum. Her mom told her about the Tooth Fairy, how it all worked and in exchange for a tooth she would get MONEY. It made her change her whole outlook. That tooth suddenly had to go!
The next several weeks were spent wiggling it, touching her tongue to it every chance she got, pushing it and prodding it till one night this past week it finally gave way and popped right out. But it wasn’t because she was pushing and prodding and wiggling it. It was because, unknown to Lorelai, a new better tooth had formed and was making its way into her gum. It pushed its way to the surface and encouraged that baby tooth to leave.
And that is where I have been in this journey to today. Looking from the outside in, it appears I am doing something “suddenly” to most folks who know me. I hadn’t ever conducted an estate sale, but three years ago I found myself doing just that. I have never opened a storefront, but tomorrow…well, I am doing that. I haven’t decorated or staged a shop to sell vintage and antique items, and now I am. It would easily look like this business just popped up. But it didn’t.
I spent many years loving the old junk. I loved having it in my home, learning about it, buying pieces at yard sales because I couldn’t afford new stuff. People complimented me on clothing my family wore, or furniture and decor in my home, and I smiled knowing where it came from. I also learned a lot about the things I had in my home and educated myself on what a good buy was, and that is aiding me today. I spent much time three years working at my church as the back drop prop person for the church cantatas and children’s programs. I also spent two summers doing nothing but making bulletin boards for my church and the preschool where I was a teacher’s aide. So I became very adept at making something out of nothing and frugal backgrounds and staging are second nature to me.
As an employee of a local Christian Bookstore, I learned merchandising and how to set up booths and displays. When my family had a craft business many moons ago, I did the same there and spent much time putting up and tearing down displays quickly and effectively and making sure our booth stood out among the others, but was never the same any two shows. I also did professional organizing for several years and helped others get their purged items ready for sale, priced and even aided in the sales from time to time.
The most recent venture was a cleaning company where I did my own books, had a full staff, dealt with employee and customer issues daily, balanced spending against profit, did a business plan, and virtually anything that was done in that company went through me first. And all these things…from bulletin boards to business plans…were “firsts” for me then, but represented a wiggly tooth now.
All those places in my life, all those activities and moments had their day, then they were gone. It took them leaving and my life that I have now pushing through to the surface for me to know that they were all just bits of the puzzle, not the completed puzzle itself.
I could be wrong, this may not be the final thing I do. I may have yet another “tooth” under the surface and this business is only a means to an end. Time will tell. But I do know that life is not so much about the destination as it is about the journey. I also know sometimes you have to let things get pretty wiggly and scary for a while, move around a bit, and maybe even eventually fall completely away before the new growth can take up its rightful place.
But until I know differently, I will move forward…first one step, then another…till I reach that destination and I will not question the process. And with my personality, trust me…that will truly be a first.
It is Saturday morning and I am home. Tomorrow about this time I hope to be in exactly the same place, home. I have determined to take the weekend off, get some rest, catch up on some of life that does not involve the chase of the next cool thing I want to offer for sale in my antiques and collectibles business, and just find my peaceful place. I have decided to hang out with my dog, Charley, go nowhere, do nothing but home-ish things and rejuvenate for my next leg of the junkin’ journey. This weekend is all about coasting.
The last three months have been such a whirlwind I probably could spend an entire week describing them. There was no real time for personal refreshment, no time for meals with friends and spontaneous fun, no time for reflection and blogging…just no time for anything but doing the next thing, taking the next step, climbing the next hill. Looking back, I truly marvel over how it all, at least so far, has gotten done, there were no real missteps, no stumbling and faltering on the road I have traveled since April 1. It all just…happened…and somehow, control freak that I am, I stayed out of its way.
To backtrack a bit, I received a call around the last week or so of March from a friend I have known for years. He is a property manager in the area and had a vacated property for me to view. The former retail tenant had skipped rent, left it a monstrous mess and there were many new items in the building that needed to be sold or cleared out. My company came to mind and he asked me to do the business liquidation. I agreed to take a look, and we met the next day.
As I toured the building and told Jim what I could and could not offer in the way of services, I felt an overwhelming sense of something I couldn’t put my finger on. I could only describe it now as a feeling of coming home. By the end of the tour of the property, I knew this was going to be the next location for my estate company. It was large and open, had attached office space, a bay where I could park my trailer and get it out of my home garage, and was located on a busy highway in the historic district of my hometown. A few months before, I had starting praying for a place to open up at just the right time, in just the right way for me to relocate and I just kind of laid it all out there and said what I wanted it to have, how I wished it would look, where I would like to be. This property was like an artist’s sketch of what I had thought, and prayed about, so I knew when I saw it that it was where I was meant to be. Now it was time to convince the powers that be, a.k.a the property manager and owner, of the same.
At the end of the tour, I asked about the property and when the amount of rent was given, I knew financially it was astronomically out of my range at the present time. I had a lease at my old location for 6 more months, I was not in the position to pay double rent even if I wanted to, and well…it just seemed pretty impossible.
But Jim and I talked, and he in turn talked with the property owner and told him what I could offer in the way of rent which was far below what they had set as rent price and also included a request for 4 months of free rent. They came back with another price, I refused knowing what I could and could not do and said I knew I was asking for the impossible. But God came through for me…and they ultimately took my offer. I had a feeling they would…His business IS the impossible.
Since the day I signed the lease, I have been in a flurry of building and fire inspections, paying huge deposits for the building rent, deposits for utilities, filling out applications and getting costly signs made for board hearings to try and convert the zoning to suit the needs of my company, hoping the landlord at my old location would miraculously sublet my offices so I would not have that rent hanging over my head for 6 more months, and a host of other things that also seemed impossible to accomplish. But to date, all deposits have been paid, all inspections have been cleared, all paperwork is in order for the zoning hearings and the planning department is “in my corner” …(well so far). Within 10 days my landlord rented out my entire office space. No advertised vacant spaces had been rented in that building in over two years so this looked really impossible, but it happened. I had four months free rent at my new location, and no rent at the old location, and this amazingly was going to pay all those expensive start up costs, almost to the penny. As I read over this myself, I am tearful and pretty overwhelmed by it all.
There have been moments, if I had been faint of heart, I would have quit physically if not mentally in the middle of this road. Right after I signed the lease, my 2003 SUV had some issues and was in the shop….$2000 later she was on the road again, but the bank account was more shy than I hoped for, especially at that time of start up costs. During this same period of time, the new location had to be trashed out of all the non-saleable items that the former tenant had left, and it was trailer loads of items, not just a bag or two that headed to the dump. Several sales had to be staged…five in all I think…to liquidate the building contents. All my own inventory in the old offices had to be moved to the new location in the space of four weeks, and it was a massive amount of items. Two weeks in, I injured my arm and have only been able to lift it to my waist most of the moving time. I have had most of my help moving from Dwight, who has health issues himself, and 63 yr old Barbara, and somehow the impossible happened and it was moved. I had four estates that got processed and accomplished within the same 6 week period and impossibly, those were done, closed, and cleared. My oldest grandchild, Lorelai, had serious surgery during this same period of time. Sadly, Dwight and I lost Brendon, our oldest male grandchild during this same 6 weeks and were both under that stress and sadness. So many other things I could describe…ruts in the road…opportunities to detour and quit…but I knew one thing deeply in my gut. Most of a person’s growth of character, building of strength, and ultimate perseverance happens when you are in the middle of the road you have set upon.
We all have dreams. We all have the capability and the tools to make those dreams come true. The difference in those who only dream, and those who dream and do, is the way they handle the middle of their road. Because most of the road in dream making is lived in the middle. If you hesitate or you stop, the dream stops too. There is no elevator or escalator to the top, folks. It is all done in dusty sandals with a broken strap, and one step at a time.
Things aren’t always easy, but they are always possible in this life. There are times you just have to know that you know that you know…then lean in hard, and hang on. Those that hesitate and stop for a moment will get run over. Those that step back, often fall into a hole of helplessness.
One of my favorite motivators has been the story of the fallen donkey. A farmer heard loud braying one day and went out to investigate. He discovered his donkey had fallen into a hole in the road leading to the barn, and was so far down it would be impossible and quite costly in time and effort to pull him out, and in the meantime the donkey would be suffering and ultimately die anyway. He enlisted the help of some farmer buddies, and together they decided it was just better to throw dirt into the hole and bury the pitiful creature now to put him out of his misery. As they threw shovelful after shovelful of dirt into the hole, at first the donkey kicked and screamed, braying loudly and was fighting the dirt with all his might. Suddenly, the sounds stopped and the farmers assumed the creature had given up and resigned himself that he was destined to die in the hole in the middle of the road. But instead, the donkey realized the dirt was not an encumbrance, it was to be his way of escape. Each time dirt and debris and messiness was thrown into the hole, the donkey shook it off, let it settle a bit around himself, then climbed on top and waited for the next raining down. Imagine the surprise of the farmer when his little donkey lumbered out of the hole no worse for the wear and was free again to move on down the road toward the barn.
How we start our dream journey is important. Reaching the dream journey’s end is equally important. But most of the dream journey takes place in the middle of the road. And that is where the really important…and truly impossible moments…take place. When the debris begins to fall, and the difficulties come, it’s not time to be a quitter. That is the time to shake it off, climb up the hill of dirt, and wait for the next shovelful of testing that will take you to the top…and just press hard into that new beginning God has for your life.
Scanning the yard sale ads this past week, I saw one that caught my eye. The ad read “Moving sale, everything needs to sell. Flat screen TVS. Stereo, House full of furniture, 16 ft fishing boat, Honda Civic, China cabinet, large desk filing cab, printers, laptops, washer and dryer and a brand new deep freezer and much more. ” It sounded interesting enough to make the trip out, especially the house of furniture part, so I set out the next morning to check it out. When I arrived at the home, there was a sign on the door “open at noon.” I looked at my watch, the time was normal “business hours” for a sale, 8 a.m. A little miffed, I got back in the car and drove away fussily thinking ” I may or may not make the trip back. They couldn’t even get organized enough to put a time on the sale ad and then ended up having it the middle of the darned day.”
But as the morning wore on and noon approached I saw a clear path to go again, and headed back out. It was an inside and outside sale, so I entered the home. It was not well-lit, reeked of smoke, and stank of pet urine. Being a former cleaning lady, I was used to all those smells, but didn’t know if there would really be anything of value here for my estate clients. But I was already here, so I moved further inside. A yappy little chihuahua in a doggie muscle shirt named Bruce Lee was all around my feet immediately, and a young woman with an entire set of black front teeth called out from the kitchen “Come on in and look around, we are open”. I guess she felt I warranted that information due to the obvious question mark on my face. It looked as if everything was still in progress as far as living there…cigarette butts in the ashtrays, you could tell they had been eating in the kitchen and den, nothing looked staged or set up, nothing priced or gathered together, it was just a come as you are party atmosphere. I thought to myself…strike two.
I wandered around in the kitchen, then the dining room and finally into the main room and did find a few things to ask prices on. They were planning to get things labeled, but that hadn’t happened like she wanted, so I told her I would pile it all up and she could tell me at the end. Out the front window I had seen others start to pull up so I knew there would be a flurry soon of people pulling items together and I didn’t want to miss out on anything that might actually be of interest to me.
Down the hallway all the doors leading to the bedrooms were closed and I heard a BIG dog barking. “Are there items in there too?” I asked, remembering the words of the ad. “No, I think my son (motioning to someone coming up behind me) got everything out of the back already.” As I turned I was shocked to see the young man she was talking about. He was about 15 or 16, beautiful smiling face, clean and neat teenaged style attire. “I can help you with anything ma’am, I am pricing things and will help you get it to your car, too.” This person looked totally out of character for the picture I was seeing in this home like some kind of jigsaw puzzle piece that sort of looked like it fit, but just wouldn’t quite complete the picture properly.
As the next several minutes went by and people filed in and out, I gathered my items and pretty much kept to myself. But I couldn’t help but hear the woman tell bit by bit the reasons they were moving. Her husband had left her four days before, cleaned out the bank accounts and left her with no money, no way to make the impending rent and the landlord had caught wind of all of it and given them three days to vacate. The other people she talked to were very accommodating in response, a lot of “there, there, you will be alright” was heard…but I was watching the young man. He never disputed what was said, but I could tell as certain quiet looks came across his face, that was not the whole story. And I had a sad feeling knowing this beautiful, polite boy was going to help his needy mother sell all their belongings, pack up a few personal items in a car, and leave his friends and his life for what? Probably more of the same.
I was even sadder when I realized the father had evicted the mother out of his own life and marriage the same way the landlord was evicting her out of the home…and this young boy was suffering eviction that was not of his own making and was expected to leave everything behind and go because he was underage. This young man had experienced strikes one, two and three a long, long time ago. I had to wonder if he had possessed the power if he would have evicted himself a long time ago from all of it. Or was he was like myself and many others…unable to evict ourselves from a situation or circumstance we had become enmeshed in, blinded to the fact it was no longer serving us well.
In my life, I have been fortunate in my pursuit of interests and have learned many skills and participated in a lot of wonderfully interesting experiences. Many of those were made up of following the path of a current adrenaline-rushing passion. And the passions and pursuits have all varied greatly, which I guess if I believed in astrology, would be attributed to the stereotype of the Gemini, which I was “born under” and it actually does seem to fit. Flip-flopping from one adventure to another, chasing a big idea, dabbling in this and directing that, my life has been short spurts of gathering lines on a resume of sorts. I have been chatting with someone so many times in the past, remarking on one thing or another and how I was involved in this or that, and they will look at me in wonder, and say “Is there anything you HAVEN’T done?” It makes me chuckle a bit, and then I do seem to reflect a moment on what I have been exposed to and how much I have actually been a part of and collected in experience. And the funny thing is, I felt at home in every single situation. It wasn’t a fly into and out of plan on anything I did. I would think about it, have the opportunity to present itself, stay with it to the end of the current pursuit, then move on to my next one. I tend to be a bit visionary and also a big multi-tasker, so this is not really beyond my ken flitting from one thing to another and still maintaining composure, getting things accomplished and embracing the whole thing when it comes to learning a new job or hobby or pretty much anything I set my mind about.
I have done many things from catering to cleaning, directing choirs to writing as a freelancer. There has been crafting for money, speaking for ladies’ groups, traveling as a gospel singer, homeschooling my only child, leading a diet group, working as a teacher’s aide and the list goes on and on. And in each case it was always the same…I was always full in, always on board, always ready to conquer the thing. And many times I did get it conquered, but there were just as many times it almost conquered me because I refused to leave before I thought I was done, even if the handwriting was on the wall long before and the eviction papers had been served.
Having a bulldog mentality and personality can be very good…but at other times it can be lethal. There were certain times I hung on too long, stayed where I was past the time it was beneficial to me, or made some poor choices in my associations and decisions about how to go forward at any given time. The one thing I never did was remove myself from the situation or pursuit until I felt like I had done all and been all, and in many instances, the “pursuit” itself was finally forced to evict me when it limped to its bitter end or reached its usefulness quotient. Sad to say, that didn’t always work for me or benefit the rest of my life and the people in it. There were times I should have said goodbye to something or someone long before my own life got to a point of telling me to hit the road, so to speak, by bringing chaos and confusion into my life, introducing weird characters and situations into my daily routine, or draining me of my own unique essence until I had no other choice but to let myself get evicted by default. Like unwanted guests, I allowed myself to stay somewhere that I was no longer needed or wanted when it would have been so much better to serve myself eviction papers when the first signs of dysfunction presented itself and just move on.
Who we are today is the sum total of who we have been and what we have done all of our lives up to this point…this is a true statement. But one has to wonder…what would the beautiful boy be doing “now” if he had evicted himself “then”? I often wonder where would I be, and with whom, and doing what if I had not waited till the last minute to move on from those unfruitful places but had put something down and moved on in a more timely fashion. Today, I have a great desire to be a good landlord of my own life, but how? If the time comes that someone or something is not contributing to the rent, I have to resolve to step up, make a big ole fist, and start knocking on my own front door first. After all, it’s my job as landlord to hold me to my own lease on life.
Yesterday ended the first official week of my retirement from the cleaning industry. It also marked my first official week of entry into the estate service industry. I am still not entirely sure how I feel about both of those facts. I had entered the cleaning industry full time over twelve years ago with the intention of being there forever, contributing and consulting, making money and spreading happiness and joy in people’s homes and businesses simply by giving them a clean place to “do life”. I envisioned my company large, even maybe franchising it, and I set about tooling systems and procedures and policies to support that big vision. And you know…I was successful at it, or so I thought, for a good deal of that twelve years. What began as a way to make a living became a life, and I had convinced myself that this life was what I wanted. But while I was enabling another person or family to live a good clean, simple happy life through my services and efforts, I was slowly but surely exchanging my own life and true happiness for big time worry in the process.
About three years ago, my cleaning company was at the peak of productivity and I had finally brought it to the brink of scaling to the next level. Discussions with a few people about franchising or at the very least opening another location in one of the nearby cities had taken place. There were 12 cleaning techs on staff, an operations manager, route manager, supply manager, and I had even added a personal assistant to aid in some HR issues and also schedule my company events and handle many of my personal needs to free up my own time. I was living it all in high cotton, or so I thought.
Then the page turned.
Over the next three years, my company experienced extreme crashing and burning in regards to the staffing which coincided with the same type crashing and burning in my customer base. This was very unexpected and hit me broadside. We were servicing almost 200 regular residential accounts a month (many of those getting cleaned multiple times in a month), 10 commercial accounts, scads of move in/move out and other add-on cleanings, and I was nearing an amount of revenue I had only dreamed about when I opened the doors. We were listed among the top two cleaning companies in the Tri-State area and it had become almost a formality to go out and bid the jobs because we had a closing rate of near 100% of anything we bid due to our reputation in the area. People were on a waiting list to get serviced. But….my staff was feeling like workhorses rather than thoroughbreds. At the same time the big economy crash came along and stressed our customers to the point of cutting back services. And still I plowed on not seeing that the reduction of customers was affecting my staff and they were growing restless in their daily work because they were feeling personal strain and insecurity in a company that seemed to be losing its market share. I proceeded with the idea that we just needed to add back in more customers, market and advertise more, take on the work that we would have refused in the past because it hadn’t fit our criterion of cleaning, and just move forward with my big vision. My mantra became “Trust me, I know what’s best for you.” Funny thing is, when the staff began quitting, and the customers starting cancelling services altogether, they were saying the same thing to me by their actions. I realize that now….and I also realize they were right, they did know best.
In my motivation to make it all work, to BE what I had created, I began to lose the essence of why I was there in the first place…to make life simple and better for a person and a family. And ultimately I was the one suffering the most in those areas. I had forgotten two very essential ingredients of success….caring for others begins with self-love, and self-love cannot be rushed.
How many of us work the plan only to find out we didn’t include our passions and dreams at all in that plan? How many times, in our attempt to do for another, do we throw our own needs and wants to the curb and think we will find self-fulfillment in something or someone else? We work to eat, buy things, gain fame or recognition, but we are building a life that is not sustainable really because it isn’t nourishing those real loves of our own life. We gauge our success on a bank account or how many people are working for us, titles we affix to those people or whether we have to check the bank account daily to make sure we have money for the house note. Or we base our contentment and our value on what we see reflected in another person when we are in a relationship, be it friendship or more. Then those things start falling away and not working, but we don’t see it right away. Our internal voice begins to shout to get our attention but we cannot hear it over our own voice screaming at others “Trust me, I know what’s best for you.” Rather than walk at a steady pace, we begin to trot a little and over time we pick up our gait because we finally feel something is not working and it must be because I am not running fast enough or not doing “something”. When we walk through life, we can see everything….the leaves on the trees, the flowers by the road, ants and spiders…but when we run, all we can see is a blur of these things. We know they are there, but we cannot experience them. And if there is danger or anything that needs to be changed or maybe even dismissed from our life, we miss it because we are running so hard. It’s difficult and nigh on to impossible to change your path or adjust course quickly if you are running rather than walking. And even worse, we cannot see the ruts and holes and we end up flinging ourselves headlong into a place we were never meant to be. We lie there, the dust settles and we think “What just happened?”
Life just did you a favor, my friend.
At this point, we either lie face down in the dirt or we get up and start walking again. In my case, I still had worry inside and unfortunately I wasn’t ready to get up right away. I laid there, cried and ranted, beat the ground with my fists, shouted out for help…but there seemed to be no one there to hear me. Epiphanies happen when you are lying there, if you let them happen. And I thank God mine did.
I realized I was running and fighting for something I really didn’t even want anymore. I wasn’t being nourished, my creativity had been relegated to the side of the road and I passed it every so often, but had not given in to stopping and pursuing that creativity in years. Happiness had been replaced by the worries of the day, and I dreaded getting up in the morning rather than looking at each day as a clean palette. I laid there in the dirt and remembered…I love to paint, to shop in thrift stores, make wreathes and beautiful things from nature, decorate my home, spend time with my family…where had all that gone?
Today I am at the beginning of the path once again, but this path is leading toward the things I love and starting at the right place…me. It sure is a lot better being “poor” in the bank account, not knowing whether the bills are going to get paid by a business you love, rather than for sure paid by a business you have grown cold in. And I am like a cold pig in warm slop…I love finding vintage items for my home and it is starting to look lived in again. I have started decorating and painting and even singing again and playing music while I work. I am gaining customers that have a love and common interest in the old and discarded, rusty and crusty junk that I do…and they see the same value in it. This is making all the difference to me. I have found my peeps! But more importantly, I have found me again.
Bob Marley was known for much, but his songs always spoke of the freedom and ease of life for someone who lives the moments and doesn’t worry too much about the days. I really don’t know if the type business I am enjoying now is going to “make it” or not…but I plan to gather the joy in this moment while I can, and just worry about those “do I stay or do I go” decisions when the time comes. But the day for my pursuit of happiness is now….and that is one thing I am not just not worried about anymore.
The last few weeks have been very busy for me. The estate side of my company has had three huge events since the middle of February. And although I really need to have the next estate event “in the pipeline” right now, frankly I am in need of a little break. My main helper, Kay, and I have busily tagged, bagged and sold so many items over the last few months I haven’t been able to get out and do much buying myself for my own inventory. And a true junker has to have that fix…we need to get out and visit with our friends we see at all the yard sales, pop into our favorite haunts and honey holes and put down some change for those little treasures and trinkets that turn up in the most unexpected places. The real junker lives for the journey, not the purchase itself….the art of finding junk is the very best part of what we do. Selling junk we find, for the thrift business owner, is just a stepping stone, not the whole path.
This last weekend I didn’t have any family events, no estate sales to conduct, nothing to keep me from my “fix”. I mapped out my list and headed to two subdivision sales and several small individual sales about 7 a.m. The whole back end of the Montero was full to the gills when I returned home, and I felt like I finally breathed for the first time in several weeks. New inventory was just a small part of the lift in my spirits…it was about getting bits and pieces of things I could sell or recycle into new projects. I felt a purpose in my future….I could already see where I was going with everything that was in my car. It gave me my next stepping stones in the thrift business and a much-needed refreshing in my being.
For me, the whole idea of thrifting is multifaceted. It is about recycling, living a “green” life, preserving the pieces and whispers of the past, along with a myriad of other wonderful things. Sometimes items I purchase are made into new items to sell. Many times I add a little of this, slap on a dab of that, and I have a new eclectic piece of wall art, or a table made from a portion of old farm equipment. It’s exciting and just a bit awesome to end up with an old thing made into something totally new with just a little time and effort.
As a Christian, the thrift mentality takes on whole new meaning. It’s my calling to be resourceful and a good steward of the finances and material possessions God has given me. When I was in my early twenties, I had virtually no money to spend on anything but the cast offs and yard sale finds when starting my home and ultimately beginning a family. But I took those cast off finds, and I molded and made them into something “new”…and my friends and family thought it was amazing when they saw my child looking like Saks Fifth Avenue and my home decorated with stunning items that were purchased at garage sales and flea markets. And I began to shift in my mindset…no longer was I sad that I was unable to purchase new items like all my friends. I was able to purchase BETTER items than my friends, for less money, and the “thrift” lifestyle became BETTER than the old life of purchasing too little for too much.
I recently read something that said exactly how I see thrifting in my own life. Unfortunately, I didn’t catch the author’s name on this piece, but it is very humbling for the Christian to read:
“There’s something about the idea of recycling that speaks to me as a Christian. That’s the underlying theme of the whole strip. It’s not just about recycling clothes, it’s about giving people a second chance, too. The thrift store takes cast-off goods that are about to be thrown onto the trash heap. They’re rescued, cleaned up and made useful again. And that’s what being a Christian is all about, how a person can be redeemed, made new again, through God.”
Along with the estate company I currently own, I have been the proud owner of a cleaning company for the last 11 years. I have learned much about people, idiosyncracies, wants, desires, and needs while getting them cleaned up. But in the last two years, I have felt a move toward a different calling and through a chain of events opened the estate side of the company. Although I do make only part of my income in this section of the company, as time goes on, this is where I feel the most reward and the most comfort personally. Slowly, I have been coming to the realization that maybe this is my next stepping stone in the path the Lord has for me. In looking at the path the Lord takes each Christian down in his life walk with Him, it’s an interesting parallel. He finds the sinner, He saves him, He cleans him up, He makes him useful again, and the sinner saved by grace becomes a part of something “new”. Maybe it is time, in my own life, for something “new”…
As a cleaning company owner, I have been “cleaning them up” for years, but this has only been one stepping stone for me in my own path. Maybe, just maybe, it is time for the next step, my “second chance”…maybe it’s time to rescue, recycle, and make something brand new out of my own life. I learned a long time ago, when you see a path appear, take it…it might lead to something BETTER.
One doesn’t have to hang with me for very long these days until they know I am a junkin’ junkie. Yep, I am the crazy lady that rubbernecks when she sees a lime green sign on the corner of an intersection, slams on brakes at the sight of a pile of hastily thrown together boxes and oddities waiting by the road for the garbage men, or wakes the rooster up before dawn gathering change and a few dollar bills from the recesses of the stoneware cookie jar of “mad money”. I admit it, I am addicted, and I do love it.
I don’t really know when that persistent little bug bit me. But I do know I have loved hunting vintage items since I was very young, and eclectic decorating pieces, dusty reading materials and absorbing collections of these items have comforted me the better part of my 50 plus years. My collections have been varied and interesting over the years, and they have also matured in content as I matured. But my most cherished collections began when I was but a young child.
I was growing up in Whitehaven, a suburb of Memphis, Tn, and we had a McCrory’s 5 and 10 that was within biking distance of my home. In those days kids could actually ride their bikes to the little shopping strip and walk from store to store in safety and without parental guidance. Our allowance of 50 cents a week was saved up for two or maybe three weeks at most, then my sister and I would either hitch a ride with Mom on a Saturday or we would be allowed to ride our bikes to the shopping center after we got a bit older. What fantastic independence we felt! Money in our pocket, our own wheels, and no adults…come to think of it, maybe those things were the real allure. The McCrory’s was by far our favorite store and the place we laid down the most pocket change each week. But we always saved it for the very last stop.
I had a pattern when I shopped. There was a whole lot of walking, peering into windows, watching people, and going from one end of the plaza to the other before spending the first penny. We’d start out at the Mannie and Karls’, the most boring store to kids since it was all ladies and men’s apparel and shoes, hats and gloves…not really much appeal there. At the other end was a Baskin Robbins and boy, that was one amazing place. Imagine, 31 flavors of ice cream. When it first opened, my friends and I all discussed the impossibility of there truly being that many flavors of the soft creamy stuff, but we also pledged to try them all just to be sure. In between the boring and the amazing was a myriad of shops and so much to see, and every visit it seemed new and different to me. There was a bowling alley smelling of popcorn and sweaty feet, and the loud crash of the balls could be heard streetside on a clear day. The Fred’s Dollar Store, Dreifus Jewelers and many odd shops I can’t quite recall were sandwiched between the barber shop and the Buster Brown shoe store. One of the stops on our itinerary was to gawk at mystical fortune-telling gypsy machine with the red-glowing eyes. I had dreams about that thing from time to time and would even waken crying from fear. But it was so mysterious and unearthly my eyes remained glued as it swallowed my quarter, groaning and jerking as it leaned downward over a chipped crystal ball and told you what your life would be, well at least till the next visit and your subsequent quarter was dropped. Then of course there was the goose that laid the eggs, not a real goose mind you, nor real eggs, but a mechanical goose much like the fortune teller only less unnerving. We all hoped to get the golden egg…and for the life of me now, I cannot remember why. We just, well, all wanted a golden egg, so I guess that was enough to keep us trying.
Around the corner past the ice cream place was a wig and dress shop. I loved to look in the wood paned windows and study the mannequins. We’d spend inordinate amounts of time trying to stand very still just outside the front door of the shop and see if we could fool the strolling people into believing we were mannequins too. I can’t remember thinking we were ever wildly successful, but it was still fun to try.
When all the places were visited, and all the first round of oohs and aahs were over, it was time to hit McCrory’s. Armed with the piggy bank money my sister, Lori, and I would go and meander in the store for hours. We lingered in the candy aisle, and gently touched the faces of all the dolls and fingered their delicate clothing. There were cap guns and hula hoops, jacks, slinkies and wheelie toys. My mom and dad were not fond of the trip when Lori introduced our household to the klicker klacker balls. Held together with thick cords were two brightly colored iridescent hard plastic balls. While you pumped your arm up and down the balls would strike each other with a loud “KLICK” then down with an equally ferocious “KLACK” ……repeatedly. Yeah, they didn’t last too long. She went outside her usual buying zone that day. Most of the time sis ended up with a fistful of candy that was long gone by the time we reached our front porch again. But not me, even when I was that young, I wanted something more stable, more valuable, more lasting and even something that would grow in meaning to me. And that one store in the tiny strip plaza is where my true collecting began.
McCrory’s was where I started my first collections of dolls and Trixie Belden books. Each time I went in I would go back and forth and up and down the case with all the dolls and finally settle on the one who deserved to go home with me. Some had beautiful hair and printed dresses, some were Barbies or Cassie Dolls. But the one doll I remember for some reason had no real identification or name. She was a beautiful little blue-eyed doll with porcelain-like skin, long platinum blonde hair tied into pigtails with pink ribbons, and she wore a bright pink raincoat set that ended at the top of snow white boots. I had that doll for most of my growing up. Maybe it was was my favorite because she was so opposite me and my own looks. I was just shy of chubby and for sure freckled, with long auburn hair and big brown eyes. I thought that doll was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen when I first laid eyes on her.
Trixie Belden was an escape for me. I was a voracious reader and so the independent little curly top was fascinating to me as a pre-teen. Solving mysteries, cooking her own food while her mom was at a bridge game and her dad was working, and the fact of her having a BOYFRIEND…well, she was who I wanted to be when I grew up. I just knew I would own a private eye agency one day with a swimming pool out back and my pick of young men trying to win my hand.
And to think, all those things that struck my fancy and turned my head then are the same things I gravitate toward today. When I go on my picking trips, I do buy some things that are good sellers that I know I can turn over for a profit quickly. I have enough business sense to know I can’t buy just the junk I like, I have to buy the junk other folks like, too or I won’t be in business very long. But the pieces I am wooed by time and time again remind me of those good times as a child. I find myself wanting to go back there, and there is almost a voice I hear in the recesses of my mind saying “If you choose me, you will remember what it was like then.” Funny how when I really take a deeper look at it, those things were just a prop in my childhood. There were some hard moments growing up…we all have them and some are more difficult to get through than others…but I can see where I chose certain things to embrace so the loud voices of the hardship would melt away. I would replace the uneasy moments with peace when I would hold a blue-eyed little doll, or immerse myself in a new adventure with my favorite character. Those things became substitutes that gave me belonging, and many times provided something to share or talk about with my friends or even my family. But sadly, I can see where I knew more about the props than I did about my own story that was being written at the same time.
In the junk business, I have a variety of items that I have sold or rented to local playhouses for their theatrical productions here and there over the last year or so. This makeshift “prop shop” was kind of an offshoot of me just buying things I loved, then people coming to my sales that were involved with the local theater and they purchased those items that fit their particular script. Using them would move their story line along because the props gave the story strength visually. Recently, a young friend took a position as a performing arts teacher. She had been following my junking business and approached me about providing some props for her productions in the future. In the talking, she sent me a site that lists the props that are suggested in a variety of plays and it was so interesting to me. As I flipped through page after page of the site, many items that were on the lists of oft performed plays were either already in my stockpile waiting to be sold or rented out, or were items I had gravitated toward in the past and were already sold and out of my inventory. If I had not sold anything in the last year, I would have had enough of the “right” items to open my own full prop shop with the exception of a handful of things that I had not run across in my experience junking as yet. All those years of looking much, buying little but purchasing the “right” things had trained me to know what would become vintage and useful to me later.
Our lives are really just a big production on this earth. We are here for a few acts, some of us more than others…then the curtain will fall, the audience reaction will come, and it will be time to leave the theater. When it comes right down to it, the believability of any story, any play, or any musical lies with the actors, yes. But the support of that story is found in the type of props they can rely on to get their story across to their audience.
I wonder if we took a steady, quiet look at our own lives, would they be so cluttered with props that we can’t see the actual story? How many things would we find that are not even really a part of the production of our life, in other words useless, ineffective props? The props we do need for our story …are they in good repair, clean and make us look good and usher us easily into the character we are meant to be ? Or are they tattered and worn, pulling us down and making a shabby mess of life?
Props are necessary in the telling of any story, but they are not the story itself. Time to buckle down, take a good long look at the list of props that are and are not part of the play I have been cast in, then spend a little time getting my prop shop back into order. It just wouldn’t do for the King of Siam to wear a cowboy hat, or Dorothy to be seen easing on down the yellow brick road on a unicycle, now would it?
Today is Tuesday, four days after our country witnessed a terrifying and history-altering event. It should have been a day like any other day, and in many ways it was. Parents woke to the manic sounds of their alarm clocks, they went in and roused their kids. They pleaded and prodded the little ones out of pj’s and into school clothes as the pint-sized people stopped to play with a special toy, or antagonize their sibling. Boys slicked down and combed their hair, girls scrubbed their faces and donned big pink or blue hairbows…they all gathered backpacks and lunch pails and notes for their teachers, and they left home and rode off to school with a parent or in a yellow schoolbus full of other wiggling little children. Just like any other day…
Then the news came…and the nation stood still… just as we did on the day the Challenger exploded, or foreign planes crashed into the Twin Towers, or John Kennedy was shot. We stood still not believing what we were hearing, not grasping or accepting the images we were seeing as our eyes, glued to the TV, began to blink back the tears until we could hold them back no longer. A 20 year old camo-adorned madman armed with guns and bullets went on a rampage, then killed himself taking with him 6 teachers and 20 innocent children, and a part of our country’s bright future.
Many of the children and teachers of Sandy Hook Elementary were warned before the gunman could enter their classrooms. News reports say someone, maybe the principal who was one of the victims, or perhaps another office person, flipped the switch on the intercom so the entire school could hear the commotion, the ringing and scattering gunshots, the sounds of the victims as they experienced their own terror, and they might escape the same fate by running and hiding until they could be saved. It’s frightening to think about what that sounded like to those listening…but the harsh sounds of those who fell became the sounds of salvation for those who survived.
I didn’t hear the news that day until I returned home from a long day of errands and grocery shopping. I was hosting a company Christmas party the following Monday and so I headed out early…just like any other day…to run a few places, enjoy the bustle of the holiday crowds, then return to a nice warm home and maybe take in a movie on TV or read by the fire till bedtime. I had happened on a yard sale that morning and had gotten a few nice things to resell in my estate business. Among these things was a small divided box, about the size of my palm. It was buried in a box of the old jewelry from the yard sale vendor’s mom. When I took a closer look at the box I was delighted to see it held a tiny nativity set! Each piece was smaller than a dime, and there were 15 compartments for the pieces. One of the compartments was empty, and I was a bit disappointed, but I had to have it when I found out it was only $1.00. I could see the three figures of the main manger scene were all there and I knew that was the most important element. I pushed it down into my other bags, went on to my other errands and arrived home a bit after dark.
My plans for a peaceful evening changed when I saw the news. I sat watching the events unfold and although I was crying and heavy-hearted most of the night, I couldn’t tear myself away from the reporting until sometime very early the next morning. Each child’s face, each mention of a name brought to mind my own grandchildren. I could not imagine how it would feel to wait at the firehouse…wait, and wait…hoping to see your grandchild in the next group, and the next, and the next… and know she was safe because she had been hidden…but then be told that your own small one had not made it into hiding, and she would not be coming home again. I fell into bed exhausted and had a fitful night’s sleep.
The next morning I woke up and started my day with eyes that were still red-rimmed, but I knew I had many things on the list to do. I started with the purchases of the day before and began to put them away and my eyes fell on the tiny nativity set. I decided to set it up in a special place…and as I emptied the compartments of the figures…Joseph and Mary, wise men and donkey…I finally lifted the last piece out. It was the shepherd, and I was so surprised when I saw a teeny little sheep hiding behind the shepherd there. I had not seen this before…the nativity was complete, nothing missing at all!
My granddaughter, Lorelai, is beautiful…she smiles and sunshine emanates from every part of her heart-shaped face. She is smart and quick and we talk about how easily she memorizes and learns and how she will “be somebody” someday. Max and Isaac, the twin boys, are just now developing their own distinct little personalities. But we can already see the way Max investigates and peers at everything as if he is sizing it all up with the intensity of an engineer. Isaac is a squinty-eyed little rascal that captures your heart with one look, and he is very dextrous for his age and will likely be a hands-on worker of some sort.
I was reminded when I looked at the baby sheep in my hand, even with all their possibilities and talents and abilities that may come along as they grow and mature, the only thing that really matters to me is that my grandchildren are all protected and safe. They are in a world of wolves and those who seek to harm and destroy, and just like a tiny sheep, they are vulnerable to physical or spiritual danger. I want to be someone who “flips a switch” in their lives…warning them of the things that are cruel, letting them hear the truth, even when it will be frightening and maybe even harsh at times. Because I know that their only chance of salvation is in hearing and understanding this truth. And just like the tiny little sheep…they too must be found hiding behind the Shepherd.
Interesting….life, that is. When you think you have it figured out, it throws you a curve ball…and sometimes it feels like an anvil. The last year of owning a cleaning business has had many ups and downs. Our industry has been one of the hardest hit for many years as customers’ wallets started closing and they scaled back due to the economy and having to tighten their own purse strings. Somehow my own company, until this year, had escaped the scenarios of many of my colleagues. Our business was strong, we were turning business away much of the time because we couldn’t handle some of it. We referred to some of our local “competitors” that have the same standards we do. It was about getting the customer serviced and happy. It also helped keep the money in the local economy and my struggling competitors solvent in many cases. Then…something shifted….
In the last 12 months, the steady flow just cut off like a faucet…running full blast, then not even a drip.We beefed up the marketing, we attended more meetings and sent out more press releases, but to no avail. After almost 6 months of struggling to maintain the status quo, I came to the realization that our company was going through what others had much earlier, and it was not going to get better, no matter how many doors we knocked on or how many neighborhoods we canvassed putting out information. People in our area were frightened. News of “recession” coming out of Washington and foreclosure signs going up next door to them made for emotional responses, and unfortunately the cleaning lady is the easy place to start the budget cuts when you are afraid you may lose your home or vocation.
There was a while when the business was falling off that I was afraid too. Funny, I have been through so many years of so many situations, both personally and professionally, but was caught off guard with this one. I (mistakenly) thought that our company was so good at what we did and customers were so happy with our services that we would escape the huge cutbacks people were forced to make for survival. They had so far hadn’t they, even when many other cleaning companies had closed their doors long before…
We had to make a shift in the internal finances, yes, but more than that a shift had to take place in the very DNA of our company. I had come to the realization of this, but didn’t really know what changes to make and one day something fell out of the sky like manna. A former cleaning customer had her mom’s home they were getting ready for the market. She needed someone to clean it out, and get it ready to sell. This happened about 6 months ago, and today I am this side of several estate clean outs and selling vintage items online, at estate sales and yard sales. The income it has produced has been modest, but has kept the cleaning side of my company afloat, at least for now.
I have been a “junkin’ junkie” since I was a teenager. My only child, Samantha, was given toys for Christmas and birthdays and was dressed from yard sales and always looked like she had walked out of a band box. There is something thrilling, even now, about finding a treasure for a few cents that you can enjoy for a while, then sell for much more than you paid for it. After the first yard sale, “Got Junk In Our Trunk” was born. As a professional organizer by trade (this is how the whole cleaning business began) I knew I could set up estate sales, conduct them efficiently and have a great time helping others disperse of their unwanted items. Many people that I have purchased items from myself have had to sell due to their own financial situation, so I knew although it was a hard choice for them to make, my purchasing was helping them do what they needed to survive a lean time. I also knew that this was something that had always brought me great joy…there is nothing like getting out at 6 a.m. on a Friday or Saturday morning when the air is still cool and crisp, chatting with folks at the sales like they are old friends, running into the same junkin’ buddies that go to sales each week, and then coming back and looking up the treasures, researching and getting things ready to sell. Yard sales are one of the last remaining true community activities, and it is an extra bonus that I am able to make money from the things I find.
I also have always been what I have affectionately dubbed a “Trash Dash” queen. I love driving down the road and coming upon something that is trash to someone, that I turn into a treasure for myself or my family. But, I have upped that activity as well, and go through the neighborhoods several times a week seeing what can be re-purposed and cleaned up and sold, and have had many great sales from these items. I even redecorated my home office with practically all free stuff!
One thing I did learn through all this that I hope I never forget. No matter what is going on around you, you must stay focused and sure of your own special great outcome. Sometimes it takes crawling through a fire on your belly, but you can get through anything with concentration and determination if you don’t give up.You just gotta evaluate after some consideration, but more importantly don’t waste time floundering…just get out there and get the thing going in a new and exciting direction!
In school we had fire drills once a month and their words to us will be the inspiration for me the next time I face a crisis…”Stop, drop, and roll”. If it’s not working, stop it. If it’s not helping you in your life path, drop it. If it is not moving forward the way you are going, then it’s time to roll with it, baby….and head to your new adventure. 🙂
What a great Saturday! It was brisk and cool when I got up, but the sun was shining on HeartWalk Day. Our company participates each year, raising money and walking together as we honor survivors and remember those family members and friends who succumbed to the disease. It is always moving to see the turnout, but even more so to watch as the survivors make the first lap in their red shirts and matching ball caps.
There was only a small group of our company members, all managers, that turned out to walk. My 2 year old granddaughter, Lorelai, was dressed out in Help Me Rhonda attire, in multi-colored sunglasses, her stroller bearing a sign letting the world know she is “new hire in training”.
Once the walk was over, Lorelai hopped in my car and we began a wonderful day together. We went “junkin'” as she calls it. Yard sales are some of our best fun. She always finds a treasure and GiGi doesn’t spend much to make her smile. She got a stuffed dalmation we named Spot and he even rode in the place of honor in the basket when we made a quick stop at Walmart. But by the time we started home, she was one tired chickie. I heard her ragged snoring in the carseat as we pulled into the driveway and laughed to myself. Watching her as she took the rest of her nap on a floor pallet, her little hand resting on her cheek and her breathing soft and kind of fluttery, I thought how nice it might be if she could just stay this small and innocent. It’s sad how quickly we lose our innocence and wonder. Relationships sour, jobs go south and we lose our quest for real contentment. Circumstances somehow convince us that happiness and wellbeing are elusive dreams and we stop trying to find ways to beat back the bully of our own misdirected thinking. Maybe more simplicity is the answer…an afternoon catnap…junkin’….cookies and juice…homemade rose-petal perfume…or maybe even an afternoon of making daisy chains. Sounds like an outline for happiness to me.