Yesterday went differently than I intended. I really am ok with that. I actually enjoyed myself.
I had mistakenly believed that I needed 1 1/2 hours, max, to put away the winteriest clothes in my closet. I didn’t think about it beyond that.
So, surprisingly (not), it took me upwards of 4 hours.
Because it turns out that I still possessed a buttload of Spring and Summer, mostly recycled (approximately70% of which I purchased at thrift stores) garments.
You know, items that I can start wearing relatively soon. It made no sense to only pull out my winter sweaters and heavy long pants and put them away. After all, the Spring/Summer wardrobe was taking up room in bins and old suitcases stored in one of our basement closets.
Taking those lighter, happy-hued pieces out of the bins was necessary to have room for the winter stuff. And, clothes horse that I am, I will no doubt be schlepping myself to a local thrift store before too long.
I’m kind of addicted to them. Thrifting makes me happy.
Inspired by the still-quite-chilly-out there-yet-the-grass-is-green, the sky is blue, and the sun is shining vibe, I leaned into the task. I got some exercise by going up and down the basement stairs like a dozen times. I listened to music, which I streamed on my ‘lil Nest. It was a chill, all-Current from MPR kinda afternoon.
Of course, I tried a lot of items on for size. Fortunately, much of it still fit. That which didn’t or that which no longer held any appeal to me, I tossed to the side. To sell in my garage sale in June.
My intention when I woke up yesterday morning, in addition to putting away those winter clothes, was to spend time working on my next blog post. Behind the scenes here these last few weeks, I’ve been writing a lot.
However, the anxiety about what specifically I was going to blog about this week got in my way. Or maybe I let it get in my way. We all have ways we sabotage ourselves, right?
Anyway. Yesterday, the simple act of cleaning out and organizing my wardrobe was good for me. I cleared my head, made progress and got myself pumped up for all that awaits me once Spring starts “springing”.
An array of veggies Hubs got started for our gardens
In my online search for writing fodder, I learned that today is “National Mom and Pops Business Owners Day”.
Have you ever heard of this before? I’m guessing not. I hadn’t either.
Finding out about this national day made me think of my own “mom and pop”. I know I’ve mentioned in past blog posts that my parents, Bonnie and Babe, were small business owners for many years. A women’s clothing store, to be exact.
Prior to my parents ownership of the business, it had been known as “Kay’s Clothes Bar”, on account of the building’s history of housing, you guessed it, a bar.
The name, of course, was changed once my parents took it over.
A keepsake
How the store became theirs is remarkable.
When my mom, at 42, was gabbing with her girlfriends one day in 1979, one of them posed the question “if you could own your own business, what would it be?” Bonnie responded with “I would own Kay’s Clothes Bar”.
That was on a Thursday.
While out and about on that following Saturday morning, my dad called my mom and asked if she was serious about wanting to have a clothing store, and she said yes, she was indeed. Dad had learned that morning that “Kay’s” was up for sale.
So together they forged ahead with becoming small business owners. Dad was on strike from his job at the mining company at the time, so this venture was a huge leap of faith.
Me, at 16, posing in the store
Though Dad had a great mathematical mind, he hadn’t gone to college (neither did Mom). Fortunately that mattered not, because his pragmatism, work ethic, and desire to keep Mom happy worked in concert with his accounting skills to see them through 15 years of being successful small business owners.
One thing that Mom took pride in was her ability to remain current. I think she was a young soul, really, because of her committed interest in staying on top of things. On top of fashion trends, on top of the news of the day, on top of whatever was going on in our little town. She didn’t miss a thing.
She was a social being who was happiest among others. She loved visiting with her customers, creating beautiful displays to “wow” them, and sharing her fashion expertise.
I very much relate to these aspects of Bonnie. So much so that as I sit here writing this post, I’ve been periodically glancing out the window at our “man cave”, (the name will be changing to something that’s not a cliche), thinking up ways to decorate and furnish it as it is to be (at least in part) a fun gathering spot for neighborhood parties and family get-togethers.
Yet lately I’ve started day dreaming about what kind of business I could run in this space. You see, I’m slowly but surely honing in on what it is I’m going to do, work-wise. And there’s so much potential, right here. I could section off a portion of the building for an office for myself to pursue paid creative writing projects or open it up as a non-profit food pantry. Or do something altogether different with this space.
At the risk of sounding like a total flake here, I believe that while I fancy the notion of operating my own small business, I can’t say definitively that working for someone else is out of the question for me. For the right job, the one in which I can use the skills I possess to help others, I would consider being someone’s employee again.
Of course, that would be the easy choice. Much less risky.
It makes me wonder, what would Bonnie and Babe think?
So, I’ve given myself a project this spring. I’m having a garage sale. Over the last several weeks, I’ve been methodically going through all of our stuff and determining what we no longer need. I’ve been going on Pinterest for ideas on how to put on the best garage sale possible.
I figure this is a good way for me to practice having a small business. It also gives me something to focus on as the time I have to spend watching our grandson lessens.
But back to Bonnie and Babe.
I don’t think I realized until the last few years just how much my parents teamwork and individual contributions as small business owners shaped who I am as an adult. How I think, what I dream about, and how I want to live in community with others.
My hard-working parents had so many adventures together in mid-life on account of being small business owners. Financially, they were successful at it, putting me through college and funding their vacations both inside and outside the U.S.
But perhaps even more importantly, they enjoyed running the store together. They took pride in it. They developed meaningful friendships they may not have otherwise developed. They made a positive impact on our community.
Back when I was going through pictures, just prior to moving back to Wisconsin from Colorado last year, I came upon a treasure. It was a clipping from our hometown newspaper of an article about my parents as they were fixing to close up shop and retire.
Retirement came a few years earlier than they had planned, as a dispute with the owner of the building over the lease had developed. They came to the conclusion that it was time to close up shop as a result.
However, Bonnie and Babe retained their great attitudes, with Bonnie commenting to the reporter in the article “As unfortunate as this is, it’s not a tragedy; no one’s dying, we still have each other”. To which Babe responded “if this is as tough as it gets, we’ve got it made”.
Cheers to all of you small business owners out there on this national day. May your customers be loyal, may you stay the course, and may you flourish!
Something recently dawned on me: overthinking leads to indecisiveness which causes stagnancy.
That is why, today, less than 24 hours after starting this particular piece, you are getting a blog post from me about socks.
I’ve got too much going on in my day to day life now which hampers my ability to sit down and actually focus on writing a blog post. It’s all good, really. Or, most of it is. And I’m certain more of it will be. Time, patience, faith, and love for my family will get me through.
Anyway. About the damn socks.
I am a fan of them. In non-summer months of course.
I once had a business idea solely based on my appreciation of fuzzy socks (at least that’s what I call them, I’m sure there are other names for them). It was this: buy them in bulk. Bedazzle them. Find someone who can cross-stitch some bawdy catch-phrases onto them. Sell them on Etsy, at craft fairs. Probably not “Shark Tank” worthy but at the very least a fun art project, right?
I’ve sometimes wondered about those sock stores found in shopping malls. Do they make money at all? Maybe they’re owned and operated by obscenely wealthy trust fund babies who are obsessed with socks, so it doesn’t matter much if they are profitable. Who exactly buys their socks there on the regular? The potential answers to these questions intrigue me.
My youngest kid once had the following take on socks: “I don’t want to wear them, they are not the comfortable ones!” So, does that mean perhaps there is such a thing as uncomfortable socks? That people pay money for? Are they made with sandpaper? Tell me more, kid!
Wait a second.
Actually, I do own one pair of uncomfortable socks.
In my defense, they were free. I spotted them at work, when they were donated to the thrift store when I ran the food pantry there. Getting free stuff every so often was a sweet little perk at that job.
Despite my generous girth, I’ve got small feet (size 6). Yet, I could barely get these godforsaken socks over my feet and calves. The black stitching under the french fries is weirdly tight. They feel like compression socks, which I thankfully don’t need at this time. So, yes, kids, uncomfortable socks do exist after all.
If any of you are able to give me a viable explanation of why wearing mis-matched socks has become a thing in American society, that’d be great. Is it mere laziness, like it was when my kids did it as teenagers? Or is it a fashion statement that just flew under my radar?
There’s a surpising amount of songs about socks out there (yes that’s the kind of shit I google) but this one is special. Enjoy, my fellow sock fans!
Pollyanna's Path 