Shopping, Shopping, Shopping

Shopping, Shopping, Shopping


  Daffodil Lane has kept me running.  Something leaves the shop.  Something comes in. Shopping, shopping, shopping.  Near and far.  In state and out. Searching for the right items is challenging.  Who would want this?  What group would this appeal to?  Questions.  Questions. Questions.  Take one thing.  Leave another.  Did I make the right decision?  Miles on the truck.  Miles on me.

Am I complaining?  Not one bit.  You see, when you set your mind to achieve a dream, all the work is part of the process.   The cost is counted before the action begins.  Actually, it is a huge learning curve.  Forms must be filed, numbers granted by the state.  Space located.  Weeks pass as more work is done.  Painting, cleaning.  Bringing in the items for sale comes close to last.

Opening day arrives.  With no idea if anyone will grace the doors, it opens.  There is a sense of accomplishment.  The dream-reality.  People give warnings.  They say things like they hope it works. They hope it isn't a failure.  Most offer positive encouragement.  Interesting the take on other's dreams.

Here is what I think about the failure comment.  Failure occurs when a dream remains a dream.  There is absolutely no opportunity to fail when nothing is attempted.  To be fair, not all people are wired to take risks.  The absolute fear that would accompany risk keeps some rooted in their present spot.  I get that.  Personally, I applaud those who take risks, and those who don't.  It's not a good/bad thing.

Failure?  Never gave that a thought.  When I look around at my little shop, I celebrate all the hours and hours of planning.  Time spent engaged with other people who also had a dream and worked to see it become their reality. All the conversations with other women who never stop moving forward brings me joy.  They reach out for that next adventure.  They embrace all that a new thing brings.  And when that part of life is passed, they move on.  You see, nothing is forever.

  Already I have met wonderful people.  People who came to shop and stayed to talk.  To visit about life and things that have real meaning.  To say that success is measured by the amount of money banked at the end of a work day misses the point.  Certainly it is necessary to pay all the bills.  And have money left over to do that endless shopping.  However, the real value in this for me is the ability to help others make their homes and lives better.  To make their homes a place of refuge from life.  It is also about valuing each person who walks through the doors of Daffodil Lane.  To see each one as a new friend.  To learn.  To listen.

Even when no one is shopping, I feel a sense of pride in the knowledge that my husband and I created something new from nothing.  We are a team. We work together.  We took an idea and ran with it.  I am so proud of us for not giving up when we had hurdles to cross.  We kept moving forward toward the dream.  And now it is here.

I am writing this in my little shop.  It is quiet.  I am surrounded by pretty things.  It makes my heart smile to know that maybe someone will come in and find that one or two things that will make their heart smile, too.

Was it worth it?  Absolutely.  You bet.  As with all things in life, it will have its day.  And while it has that day, I will enjoy every minute.

The Black Lid

The Black Lid-

For the past four weeks we have been quite busy putting a store together.  In case anyone says there is nothing to doing that, let me be the first to smack them up beside the head. It is work.  From beginning to end.  But, it is enjoyable work.

Four walls, some openings for doors, a ceiling and a floor presented themselves.  How could I pull this together into a store?  Bit by bit it took shape.  The flower unfolded and blossomed right in front of me.  However, all of that time spent in that place meant things at home did not get done.  Laundry remained unfolded, a washer full of washed clothes  lost that newly washed scent.  One more go-around for that load. And the floors-it was time to get the old broom out and round up all those dust bunnies.

So, with broom in hand I headed for the farthest room pushing all the bunnies toward the common area where the dust pan awaited.  The job was nearly completed when I decided to open the door to the pantry and give it a quick swipe with the broom.  All was well until I spotted what appeared to me to be a lid.  It was rectangular in shape.  Black in color.  Must have missed the garbage can, I thought.  Nothing to do but shove the broom into the deepest part of the pantry floor and retrieve the lid.

I knew trouble was afoot when the broom seemed stuck to the lid.  Probably something sticky in the container it belonged to.  Pulling the broom out of the pantry, I put my big toe on the black lid.  My big toes are quite large.  My brother-in-law called them obscene.  That might be a slight exaggeration.  Nevertheless, they are substantial in size.

It seemed strange to me when my big toe stuck on the lid.  Now the straws on the broom and my big toe were stuck.  I shook them, pulled at them.  They were firmly held on the lid.  You have probably figured this out by now.  My husband had placed one of those sticky pads in the far back of the pantry to catch any critter that might wander into that space.  Like a mouse.  A mouse was not stuck on that pad.  The broom and I were.

It took quite a bit of effort to get my toe off that pad.  When my toe came off, yucky, sticky stuff came off with it.  One of our family was doubled over in laughter.  One wasn't.  The laughing one had to do the pulling to free me from my trap.  Then the real trouble began.That sticky stuff came off the pad with my toe.  The entire bottom of my toe and my fingers that tried to free the toe were sticking to everything.  My fingers were sticking together.  My toe was sticking to the floor.  What to do?

Warm water and soap did not help one bit.  Finger nail polish remover was useless.  So I tried rubbing the sticky off.  Nope.  Wouldn't budge.  I scrubbed my hands under hot water and eventually they began to return to normal. Not so with the toe.  Could not put socks on.  They caught on the sticky and stayed.  Finally, the one who laughed suggested a bandaid. Maybe I could put a bandaid over the worse part of it and go about my business.  It seemed only fair that he be the one to locate one for me.  During this process I do believe socks were thrown at the offender.

After wrapping the bandaid around my big toe, I was able to pull on a tennis shoe.  However, my toe stuck to the bottom of the shoe.  At least I had a shoe on.  I could go about my business.  And the one who laughed could use that broom and dust pan to collect all the dirt that lay in a pile next to the pantry door.

Ok.  I have to admit that during the process I laughed.  A lot.  As I write this, I am chuckling.  It was one funny moment.  Me with my foot in the air with a black lid hanging from it.  And a broom that was held as firmly as I was.

What lesson was learned?  Let someone else do the sweeping!