A Pool of Margaritas

It's high time for a walk on the real side 
Let's admit the bastards beat us 
I move to dissolve the corporation 
In a pool of margaritas 
So let's switch off all the lights 
Light up all the Luckies 
Crankin' up the afterglow 
Cause we're goin' out of business 
Everything must go 
Steely Dan, "Everything Must Go"

Margaritas will be shaken soon, but now I sit with a glass of house Chardonnay at my favorite local bar.  I sit alone, reading glasses on my nose, typing a blog that I type for me alone. A blog so I remember. A blog so I can decipher the code of this moment.

I didn't dissolve the corporation, but I may as well have.  I have spent the last ten days filling orders from a final sale for a jewelry eCommerce site that I grew from nothing into something.  The something wasn't a blip on any competitor's radar, but I sold over a quarter of a million dollars of hand made jewelry over the past eight years.  That counts as something...
At least, I think so.

SO, why is it gone?  I could and have said that the economy and the price of silver joined forces against me.  I could say that consumers are a fickle lot and finding their pulse is nearly impossible.  I could say a lot of things, but the real reason is that I simply got bored. I lost my passion for it.  I lost my mojo.  I lost my dedication. I lost my discipline.

The economy was difficult; however, the customers were not fickle. In fact, in eight years of business, I can only count three experiences where people were nasty.  My customers were darlings; good people just wanting quality...and I delivered.  I made beautiful, unique stuff.  I offered good customer service.  

If anything, my creativity was fickle. It would show up in bursts of energy when I was already overwhelmed with work and leave me as dry as the dessert when I needed new pieces for the season.  Naming the pieces, photographing the pieces, editing the photos, and writing brilliant prose were my bete noir.  I loved the creation, but despised the tedious web interfacing to showcase the finished work.  

In the end, other pursuits vied for my creative engine's output.  I found joy in art. I found clarity in writing.  I found that old talents could be resurrected and it was never too late to learn.

So, did the business fail me or did I fail it?  The question is rhetorical.  I wrote this to remember, but I am positive I will never forget the bliss of reading "Brenda, I just wanted to tell you how much I love my necklace."  

Pushing Antlers

I have been a bit aloof of late; missing full moons and such...

Today marks the New Buck Moon, named for when young male deer begin to push soft velvety stubs that will eventually become hardened antlers.  I did a bit of research, planning a killer metaphor, but all I could think was "OW!!"  Seriously, growing antlers must hurt-  far worse than wisdom teeth; but then I remembered puberty. OH GAWD! Puberty!!! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh........

If my feet weren't growing faster than ability to coordinate them, my breasts were spilling out of newly purchased bras. My face was cratered like the moon's surface and my crying jags were the stuff of legend.   I wanted to grow up, but needed to be mothered as well. I wanted responsibility, but not the boring part. I wanted to date, but was clueless when a boy stuck his tongue in my mouth.  In short, I was a mess- a perfectly normal, hormonal thirteen year old mess...

And the scary part was that nature had decided I was an adult, ready to reproduce. What the hell??  It was like giving the keys of a Cadillac to a toddler.  I had no idea what to do with my body; it instantly became foreign to me, like an enemy in wait.  Oh, so you want to go to a dance?  Well here is a zit for ya, sister!  You want to impress Jim?  Oops, don't trip in those ridiculous high heels your mother warned you were a broken ankle ready to happen.  And did you really have to get your new monthly friend during your presentation on moon travel? Did you?

And the deer think they have it so rough...

But we all lived through it. We garnered our new found assets and corralled those raging hormones. We grew into our feet and finally understood our internal metamorphosis. In short, we learned. We adjusted. We accepted.  And we celebrated that which we became.

That is the key to all successful change no matter how terrifying or painful.  
We must learn; understand what options are available to us.  
We must adjust; knowing that no single option will be perfect. 
We must accept; that which we cannot change.

And when it is all said and done, we need to celebrate.