Back to...well, everything else.
Jul. 31st, 2007 03:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysobelleI have, at this moment, 23 corsets on deck. Ten of them are stock. Thirteen are orders or otherwise spoken for. I have five left from Fling. Surly has two, I think-- also stock. So I'll have seventeen pieces of stock to open with, and-- G-d, I hope-- all my outstanding orders caught up. Bev, Carol's corset is just stunning! Bill came over and brought Ryan again for her first crack at being a minion: she did excellently, and is very enthusiastic. To say I'm thrilled is an understatement. So's Clue: she adores Bill especially-- he loves to play and take her for vigorous walks.
I got some organisation done, just to see where I stand. It astonishes me that, by rough calculation, I have close to $10,000 worth of corsets in my apartment. When the hell did I get to this stage? Holy cow, maybe I really can make a living off this crazy thing.
Latest stress for the day, however-- as if I didn't have enough making me quite literally sick-- is, once again, Scott, owner of PARF, telling me to rip something out of my booth or he'd do it himself. This time, it was the pond-- my heart's desire-- that settled badly in last night's rain, after we spent days killing ourselves in the heat, breaking up the clay with a pickaxe, moving rocks, measuring and levelling and digging and making ourselves sick. I almost got into it on the phone with Carrie, though I know we're both incredibly stressed. Bless Angela, though. She was the voice of reason on site. We talked about it, and after much grief, I told her to go ahead and take it out before someone from faire did it and destroyed the liner. I called Carrie back to tell her it was out, and she seemed astonished. "You did what?" I managed NOT to snap, "Well, what did you expect us to do?" But she was a doll-- she said she'd have the grounds crew put in a bunch of topsoil and compost to fill the gaping hole we spent so long digging, and she said she'll try to get someone from faire to put the pond in properly for me once we open and things calm down a little. So Scott sees a compromise, and I-- eventually-- get my pond done right. I hope.
My Dad took me aside Saturday morning and told me, very seriously, to stop worrying, and that as long as he's on this earth, he's here for me. Mom's said pretty much the same thing. Still, it's hard not to obsess. During the Tour, I kept hearing the cyclists saying the couldn't wait to just get on their damned bikes and race-- leave behind the reporters and the drug-testers and the questions and the scandals and the interviews and the chaos. I so know how they feel.
Yesterday was the big family gathering of both our side of the family and my sister's in-laws' side. We celebrated an eleventy-first birthday-- but no one got it when I asked who was going to pop into invisibility mid-celebration and run off with the Ring. It was my Mom's, my brother-in-law Ken's, and my nephew David's birthday. I can't believe Small One #2 is a year old. He is a VERY happy baby, and unlike his sister, who was on her best behaviour for most of the day, crawls like a small, squishy rocket.
At the very end of the party, however, everything changed. Almost everyone had gone when my sister's phone rang. It was Fire & Ice, the store where I've worked on and off for the better part of the last ten years. One of the women I've known there the longest, Loretta, had just lost her battle with cancer.
It was like the breaking of the glass at the wedding: no matter how sweet the joy, remember the bitterness of sorrow. Loretta fought for years. I'm ashamed to say I knew back at Valentine's Day she was fighting again after being in remission for years, and between then and now I'd just forgotten. How is it possible that over and over again we just assume people will always be there in the face of constant evidence they won't? It's a frightening thought, that life and the world are so precarious: here today, gone tomorrow. Maillot Jaune today, courtroom tomorrow. Pond today, dirt tomorrow.
My search for the meaning of life and death goes on. Maybe it's arrogant to think that after thousands of years of human development, I'll be the one to figure it all out. Maybe it's arrogant to think that, with this brain I've been given, I won't be. Or maybe it's arrogant to think there's something to figure out in the first place.
I got some organisation done, just to see where I stand. It astonishes me that, by rough calculation, I have close to $10,000 worth of corsets in my apartment. When the hell did I get to this stage? Holy cow, maybe I really can make a living off this crazy thing.
Latest stress for the day, however-- as if I didn't have enough making me quite literally sick-- is, once again, Scott, owner of PARF, telling me to rip something out of my booth or he'd do it himself. This time, it was the pond-- my heart's desire-- that settled badly in last night's rain, after we spent days killing ourselves in the heat, breaking up the clay with a pickaxe, moving rocks, measuring and levelling and digging and making ourselves sick. I almost got into it on the phone with Carrie, though I know we're both incredibly stressed. Bless Angela, though. She was the voice of reason on site. We talked about it, and after much grief, I told her to go ahead and take it out before someone from faire did it and destroyed the liner. I called Carrie back to tell her it was out, and she seemed astonished. "You did what?" I managed NOT to snap, "Well, what did you expect us to do?" But she was a doll-- she said she'd have the grounds crew put in a bunch of topsoil and compost to fill the gaping hole we spent so long digging, and she said she'll try to get someone from faire to put the pond in properly for me once we open and things calm down a little. So Scott sees a compromise, and I-- eventually-- get my pond done right. I hope.
My Dad took me aside Saturday morning and told me, very seriously, to stop worrying, and that as long as he's on this earth, he's here for me. Mom's said pretty much the same thing. Still, it's hard not to obsess. During the Tour, I kept hearing the cyclists saying the couldn't wait to just get on their damned bikes and race-- leave behind the reporters and the drug-testers and the questions and the scandals and the interviews and the chaos. I so know how they feel.
Yesterday was the big family gathering of both our side of the family and my sister's in-laws' side. We celebrated an eleventy-first birthday-- but no one got it when I asked who was going to pop into invisibility mid-celebration and run off with the Ring. It was my Mom's, my brother-in-law Ken's, and my nephew David's birthday. I can't believe Small One #2 is a year old. He is a VERY happy baby, and unlike his sister, who was on her best behaviour for most of the day, crawls like a small, squishy rocket.
At the very end of the party, however, everything changed. Almost everyone had gone when my sister's phone rang. It was Fire & Ice, the store where I've worked on and off for the better part of the last ten years. One of the women I've known there the longest, Loretta, had just lost her battle with cancer.
It was like the breaking of the glass at the wedding: no matter how sweet the joy, remember the bitterness of sorrow. Loretta fought for years. I'm ashamed to say I knew back at Valentine's Day she was fighting again after being in remission for years, and between then and now I'd just forgotten. How is it possible that over and over again we just assume people will always be there in the face of constant evidence they won't? It's a frightening thought, that life and the world are so precarious: here today, gone tomorrow. Maillot Jaune today, courtroom tomorrow. Pond today, dirt tomorrow.
My search for the meaning of life and death goes on. Maybe it's arrogant to think that after thousands of years of human development, I'll be the one to figure it all out. Maybe it's arrogant to think that, with this brain I've been given, I won't be. Or maybe it's arrogant to think there's something to figure out in the first place.
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no subject
Date: 2007-07-31 11:22 am (UTC)sorry to hear about your ex-coworker.
no subject
Date: 2007-07-31 10:10 pm (UTC)I can't wait til Fairie Fest next year. I'm going to be MUCH better prepared.
no subject
Date: 2007-07-31 01:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-31 10:09 pm (UTC)Hey, what are we doing about Daniel? How often is he going to be coming to faire?
no subject
Date: 2007-08-02 01:42 am (UTC)It is a testament to your hard-work and creativity that you are getting so many orders.
Also, I cannot believe that your nephew is one! I remember texting my congratulations Auntie Nikki. (It is true that children grow as you blink...just ask me, I know!)
I am deeply saddened by the loss of your friend/co-worker. Please let me know if there is anything I can do. (Even if it is only to be the voice at the other end of the phone.)
And while it may not help, I would like to impart a few of my thoughts to you about the meaning of life and death.
Life, like love, is a many splendored thing. At the beginning of my day, I take a few moments to appreciate my many blessings.
I thank God that I have a warm, dry place to sleep. An adored husband to sleep with. A dog that licks my face and wakes me up at 4:30am to use the bathroom. The ability to see, hear, smell, touch, taste, feel, and love. The gift of my children. And my father...even if he doesn't always remember who I am.
Other family and friends. My free will, and the freedoms that I possess just from being born in this wonderful country.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-02 02:03 am (UTC)It makes you feel great before you even get out of bed!
Also, a few of my favorite sayings are quite appropriate to life and death.
"Life is not measured by the number of breaths that we take, but by the moments in life that take our breath away."
"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to What lies within us."
"The best place to find a helping hand is at the end of your arm."
"Life is too short to be unhappy, Live each day like it's your last."
"Let go, let God."
"No matter where you are in life, it is totally your fault."
I have a million of these little sayings posted all over my home, car, office, and of course on my answering machine. ( Did you ever call my house and get my thought for the day?)
I am not saying that I know everything, but I do know that having been close to death a couple of times has given me a different perspective on things.
I am confident of the fact that if I were to die tonight that my family, friends, and random acquaintances would how I felt about them. That they have helped to shape who I am as a person, and that they were important to me. I am also quiet sure that they would celebrate my life rather than grieve excessively.
And, I do believe that death is the next great adventure. So what's not to look forward to?
no subject
Date: 2007-08-02 02:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-07 03:54 am (UTC)