junk

Ah, here I sit tired to the bone. I have had the lovely and quite dirty opportunity to liquidate a family member's estate. Now you may read this and think yuck, who wants to do that? Well I'll tell you, ME! Nothing makes me happier than when I am surrounded by old and dusty junk. Chests of drawers, 1950's dinettes, vintage rattan with perfect cushions(do you know how hard it is to find perfect cushions?), lamps, bubble lights, barkcloth, sparkly jewelry and bright colored flower pins, aaahhh, I am like a pig in poop, happy. In a world where we are all trying to be bigger, better, faster, newer, I find comfort in all things old. Tarnished silver is prettier to me than bright and shiny, polished silver. Old floral quilts worn thin from washing are more appealing than new starchy polyester ones. Layer them all for perfect coziness. Old big bulb christmas lights have the best glow during snowy holiday time. My favorite is when they are blanketed in a fresh fall, peeking out from their chilly cover. Now I'm sure I have painted this romantic picture of what I do for work, but that's just it, it IS work, hard, laborsome , dirty work that I love to my core. My life is like one big treasure hunt, picking through garbage, crawling through, well crawl spaces, climbing rickety attic steps and bumping my head for the millionth time. Small spaces that smell like rodents, swiping cobwebs from my lips, trudging through mud, all a part of the job. I've also been known to drive crazy distances to meet up with just as crazy people all for the love of junk. My friend is the same way and together drinking margaritas, buying old crap, we are never happier. One occasion left us locked out of the truck in the cold while she went to find help and came back wrapped in a stinky victorian quilt with some very eccentric stranger(owner of the crazy quilt)in tow, happy to try to sell her the quilt. Um, no thanks, but have a corona. I'm not exactly sure what we purchased in the dark with our flashlights(due to the margaritas)but I do know it was awhile before we stopped laughing. Oh yes, what a life. I suppose as stated before, I could work in a cubicle or for some horrible boss, but that is just not my speed. I swear sometimes people think I don't work because my job is so fun, but hauling, cleaning, displaying, pricing, and selling is just as much work if not more than say putting numbers on a spreadsheet. My husband also enjoys the vibe, most of the time. Like I said before the labor part can grow old. Some days we cannot lift another piece of furniture(like today)yet I know he will happily join his wife for the flea market extravaganza come spring. Junk in the country, nothing better. For now I will busy myself by getting reaquainted with my boxed up finds and try to figure out exactly what that goo is on my rain boot. Good night world.

frustration

I'm sure you all know this feeling, maybe in abundance. Nothing like a horrible gray rainy day, lack of business, and oh, just to add icing to the proverbial cake, a nice big argument with my beloved. Ugh. Today sucked. I can't make any bones about it, it was just a bad day. This 40 days and 40 nights of rain does not improve the mood. I can only hide under my afghans for so long before I am ready to jump off a bridge. Pardon if this post is a bit bitter, but like I said it was a BAD day and you all know how I love my wine, so bestie and I partook in a few lovely glasses while our wild ones ran amok. My frustration lies again in the lack of education jobs and my mental capacity to perform my waitressing tasks. Lets put it this way, when you are 41 and have a lot going on the ability to handle whiney adults and whiney employees(sometimes interchangeable) takes a better, younger person than I. I am working overtime to promote my tiny business in a really CRAPPY economy and I tend to see red when I feel my beloved is not living up to his potential. As stated before the situation is not his fault, but if I feel any slight slacking on his part I tend to act like Martha Stewart and excuses are NOT an option. Discussing this matter only leads to defiance and brooding. Again, ugh. Couple this with a cold that WILL NOT GO AWAY and leaves me hacking like a 2 pack a day smoker is enough to make me jump out of my skin! I feel like Charlie Brown when Lucy keeps taking the football away from him....AARRGGHHH!! Apparently I am also enjoying the caps lock key on my keyboard. I just want to know when enough is enough? When do I get to stop dragging myself from job to job to support this family? Isn't this a team effort? I know I will continue to keep the momentum going, but I would really like to concentrate on ONE job, the one that really makes me get out of bed each day, customers or no customers, my business.  There is also my beautiful son. I guess I should have mentioned him first, but you know he's not a job to me so I don't group him into that category. In a few months I will be done working Friday nights. I will miss the income, but in the grand scheme of things, really, 300 extra dollars a month is not a big price to pay to hang out with him and not have to schlepp from job to sitter to job to sitter to home. I think pizza and t.v. and bonding time with him sounds much nicer. So my frustration lies in my situation yet again, hence the reason for this whole blog of mine, and how to make our life a little nicer and a little easier. I suppose I could just give up my little business that I love like my own family and work in a cubicle from 9 to 5 and feel a little piece of myself die each day or I could hang in there, try to have patience, and hope for better days. I guess you all know the answer to that one(in case you don't the cubicle is NOT an option) and thank God and Buddha for my best friend and her ability to provide comfort, conversation, and most important mommy's little helper(that would be wine). Thanks Cay. I love you. Goodnight world.

food for thought

Fried chicken, mac and cheese, waffles, bacon, are you drooling yet? Such were this morning's brunch delights. As I shoved a spoonful of warm gooey cheesy goodness into my bro-in-law's mouth, his eyes closed in sheer delight. The occasion for this fat fete was my brother in law's birthday. If you asked me his age I couldn't tell you, but it was just the excuse I needed to whip up some comfort soul food to enjoy this beautiful Sunday. It really doesn't take much to please a man, just fry something and they are instantly happy, hey who am I kidding, if you put a plate of fried food in front of me I'm the same way! Over the years, being married to a part-time chef has given me the ability to become a better cook. I have always enjoyed cooking and even entertained the idea of culinary school. That idea quickly dissipated the minute I set foot in the kitchen of my first real restaurant job. Being a girl, gross was the only thought that popped into my head. Cooking on a line is dirty, stinky and labor intensive. Not only are you cooking food at an extremely fast rate, but you have egomaniacal chefs and psycho servers to deal with as well. The hours are long and the clean up at night's end appears endless. My husband does this four times a week. He does it with such aplomb that you know he's been working it too long. Somehow he manages(usually) to not let the nightly insanity drive HIM insane. I have seen him launch a chair out the kitchen's back door when a server wasn't doing their job, but that story is for another day. Kitchen work is not all glory and Wolfgang Puck. You have to do your time, work your way up and than if you're lucky someone gives you a break and puts you in charge. The headaches don't stop there, oh no, than you have to please your customers. Cooking for the general public makes for one slippery slope. You want to show off your creativity yet somehow please them as well(if you want to make money that is), but not everyone loves foie gras or sweetbreads or that freakin pasta special that won't go away. Ah, what can I say, glad I didn't follow that path. Cooking for me and for most I would imagine is about your senses. Chocolate and cinnamon and red wine. Pasta and tomato and garlic. You get the picture. Being creative I am ruled by my senses. This is not always a good thing. Practicality tends to fall by the wayside when I am confronted with overwhelming sight, sound, smell, touch, taste. When I smell a good pepperoni pizza I swear I positively swoon. This morning's feast had that ability as well. When I took my first bite of that damn mac and cheese I almost slobbered it was so good. I could also feel my derriere expanding as well, in fact I think my pants ARE tighter this evening. Oh well, small price to pay for something so divine, I'll run tomorrow. Food is healing, comforting, even sexual. Oysters and vodka. Lobster, saffron, champagne and caviar. Life gets so crazy that sometimes a big cheeseburger is the only way to make us happy. Well after that meal this morning, I don't think I'll be eating a cheeseburger anytime soon, but just the thought of it makes me smile. . and drool a little. Goodnight world. Oh and happy birthday brother-in -law of mine.

cluttered

Now that my son has started school and we have all settled into the autumn groove, I find I have a few more hours of free time on my hands. I used to start my day at the shop with the countdown until dear one got there. . two hours, hour and a half, thirty minutes, fifteen minutes and oh, here he is, time to start chasing for the next three hours. Ugh. It wasn't that I wasn't happy to see his beautiful face, it was just that I knew any project or craft started had to be stopped until I had time to pick it back up again(some never to reappear). His arrival meant it was now time for blocks and trucks and pretend time. If anyone at this age can tell me they seriously enjoy playing toddler games than they are a better person than I. So now I find myself with not 2 but 4 beautiful peaceful hours to myself. The downside to this equation is that I CANNOT shut my brain off. It is so packed full of ideas, future displays and events, projects, and crafts to make that I feel like my head is going to explode off my neck like a rocket into space. Couple this with the upcoming holidays I not only have to think about the store, but also Halloween costumes, Thanksgiving side dishes, Christmas gifts, shopping for said gifts, Christmas Eve cooking not to mention social plans and babysitters. If this isn't enough I still have to work my other job, maybe even more than usual because well it will be the holidays and people love to eat out. Holidays also bring about holiday decorating and since you all know how much I LOVE Christmas, this house gets transformed into a 1950's aluminum tree wonderland! Oh and did I mention the baking. Oh quit your whining I'm sure you're thinking, women have been doing this for years and with even bigger families than mine, but being a selfish society I am only thinking about all MY work that will have to be done. Don't let me fool you, down deep I really love the whirlwind of activity, but as I sit here in the beginning of October I feel a little anxiety approaching thinking about all that will need to be done.
On top of my cluttered brain, I can't help but notice my cluttered house including basement and attic. I also have a cluttered basement at the store. Well it's actually a hoarders wet dream, but not to this hoarder. I just see one big cluttered mess. My husband keeps saying I have to go down there and throw all that shit out, but when I stand at the top of the steps and peer into the blackness(most of the lights are out)I just get tired and go upstairs. AAARRGH!!! That is how I feel when I think of cleaning basements and attics. I DON'T want to do that in my free time, who does??!! I do have to give a giant shout out to my husband who took a big successful stab at decluttering our attic. At least it's a start. Now I can see why people sell it all and move to Florida. In Florida all you need is a bathing suit and air conditioning. Until that day comes I suppose I will just have to put up with my cluttered brain, business, and abode. Anyone need a broken typewriter? Goodnight world.