Saturday, April 26, 2008

A couple pics


This pic of the shop front is from last summer. I'll post another pic of the front once we have that new sign hanging from it's new, ornate bracket hanging from the new posts.
This here is the new logo which the new sign is being designed from. The sign will basically be a three dimensional version of the image.

Birthday Bitch

It happens every spring.

April adorns us with a week or two of gorgeous 70, sometimes 80 degree weather. Crocuses come up out of the ground, the rivers glisten, the peepers scream. Neighborhoods start to smell of barbecue, trucks get covered in mud, flip flops and garden clogs get dug out of the closet. I actually shave my legs.

We get used to it. We think it’s summer. We forget, during Ella’s spring break, that she actually has to go back and finish the school year. I think, foolishly, every year, that I might actually get to enjoy this weather on my birthday…. which is, by all rights (right?) considered spring?

But I live in Vermont. This April thing… it’s a tease. Not like a pleasant foreplay kind of tease either…. It’s more like a “here it is and now I’m just taking it away” kind of a tease. May 1rst arrives and it’s back to the wool coat and scarf and leather knee high boots. It’s like none of it ever even happened. Which is fine. I’m just a little bitter.

Perspective

I was talking with Penny recently about finances and the idea of prosperity as she was helping me set up a separate account for gift certificates in my Quickbooks. Penny, for years, managed the Stowe Coffee House. Those were the years, she says, that she never slept. She, most of all, probably best relates to my life these days. I mentioned a thought I had recently about my perspective on “being poor”. I noticed that when I working at the inn before I bought the shop, I always felt broke. I always felt like I was stuck and poor and not moving forward in any way. I had the chronic nagging feeling like there was something else out there that could afford me so much more. I had a regular salary, paid vacations and benefit options. I just wasn’t satisfied with my job and didn’t feel like I was being paid enough for what I was doing. I didn’t like busting my ass to promote someone else’s bureaucracy. I’ve related it, in prior posts, to the feeling of drawing air through a moldy, clogged up crazy straw.

I now make an incredibly small fraction of what I was making then. I have a fraction of the free time that job afforded me. I make very few personal draws on the business (meaning I rarely pay myself). I do not get paid vacations. I come in on my days off. I work twelve hour days several days a week. I live from the tip jar. I contribute little or nothing to the household expenses. But I feel so fucking wealthy. I come home content at the end of the day and I do not feel poor ever. I don't bark at my family anymore. I was talking to my mom last week (as I was spraying down tables at the end of the day) and telling her about all the progress at the shop lately and she mentioned that she couldn’t remember the last time she’s seen me this happy. I hadn’t thought about it. But she’s right.

It’s such a mindset. I’ve waitressed on and off since I was a teenager. I’ve had my own green housecleaning business. I’ve practiced massage therapy and tended births as a trained doula. I’ve done business management and worked with angry teenage boys in state’s custody. I’ve never been as “broke” as I am now and I’ve never been as content. Granted, I’m not at the point where I’m saving for Ella’s college tuition or putting money aside to retire with, but on the upside, I’m kind of gaining a ton of experience and perspective and passion.

Again, taking note. Taking stock.

Spectrum

I found myself taking note of the wide spectrum of time yesterday while I was sitting in my new painted living room with Helen, my bookkeeper. We found ourselves a little nook in the bay window area of the room, spread out our stuff and plugged in the computer.

We meet now every three months to take care of the quarterly Withholding, payroll and Rooms and Meals taxes. I won’t pretend like I even really know what any of that means. I simply schedule the time to meet with Helen and nod my head while she navigates like a Nascar driver through the screens on my Quickbooks Pro 2007. I end up cross eyed when we’re done, deeply craving a long hot bath, an entire bottle of wine and a good cry. This part of being a business owner is not the stuff I do best. Painting and hanging ivy plants I can handle with grace and ease. The IRS confuses the hell out of me.

Folks would come in and almost approach me. Maybe the deer-in-the-headlights expression on my face was a good indication that they come back later to say “hey”.

But……… mid-way through our three hour meeting, I found myself kind of humming along with Ramble on Rose and it being spring lately… even if it may be somewhat of a temporary pleasure………and the sun shining outside and the warm breeze coming in through the open window……….I found myself thinking that fifteen years or so ago I might have found myself somewhere in the country, at some random venue, dancing in the grass or in some hallway in some stadium, to this song…..live. And so I dangled there for a while, in that wide spectrum of time…. the light existence of one’s early twenties on one end of the spectrum and quarterly tax returns for the budding entrepreneur on the other end.

Just taking note. Taking stock.

Spring

I used to really hate deli slicing. It’s a job I do in the back, in the “kitchen”, and other than the fear I have of the scary rotating blade, it’s just been an unpleasant job all winter due to the freezing condition of the room. We insulated the floor, yes, and Bill built a beautiful new insulated door, which is great, but it was still cold enough back there to freeze the wet mopheads overnight. I’d have to layer up with sweaters and scarves to do the slicing. I’d wear my black wool glove on my right hand because otherwise my bare flesh on the cold metal handle of the slicer would create a great deal of discomfort. I would take my cell phone back there with me and make calls while I sliced to distract me from the snow blowing through the cracks of the old door and from my cold feet.

I was back there today slicing and realized how incredibly meditative I felt…. Content. I tied the back door open and a fresh breeze was coming in. It’s now a more comfortable room than the shop room…where we work behind the counter all day…the room whose windows we haven’t opened yet. There are only two windows in that room that aren’t painted shut but they have to be pried open with a chisel once the warm weather comes and it’s such an incredible effort to really close them each night that half the time we just leave them open a bit. That being the case, we haven’t yet opened them this season because we aren’t entirely convinced that it’s not going to drop down into the thirties in the next few weeks and freeze and kill the geraniums on the windowsill.

But the shop has been so pleasant lately. For so long this winter, I felt like I was stuck in the monotony of the general daily tasks and was left no time to really move forward with the things I’ve been wanting to do. All my grand plans weren’t happening fast enough for me. Come March, all I could do was daydream about the time it’d be warm enough for me to come in on my mornings off and tie my hair up and dig my hands into the old, untended flower beds around the place. I daydreamed about riding my bike to the bank instead of driving my car. All of that is starting to happen. There’s a true momentum that I’m so enjoying right now.

Last Friday, Word Bob, who paints for a living and has been my painting advisor of sorts, met me at the Country Home Center, where they sell Benjamin Moore paints, and helped me narrow down the color choices for the new paint job in the living room of the shop. It was totally an eleventh hour choice….. seeing as how I’d nailed some friends down weeks before to help me paint it the following day.

So I opened the shop early on Saturday and mid afternoon I left my post at the counter and started moving things around in the big living room… getting it ready for the new colors. I pulled the big hibiscus tree out onto the front porch and pulled all the furniture in toward the center of the room. I wiped down all the woodwork and laid down the drop cloths. Once it was all ready, I pulled the heavy wooden doors closed and went for a long walk through the town of Johnson with my old friend Dave, who‘s just moved to Vermont from Pennsylvania. We walked down Railroad Street and up the hill to where the cemetery is… learning that the dead folks of Johnson have the best view in town. We took note of all the old fashioned names and all the really old head stones and I explained how and when to plant bulbs and what kinds of perennials are hardy enough for the north country. We walked by and picked up our other hometown buddy, Kalinas, who hangs in Johnson between his annual jaunts to the South Pole and then Alaska. Lucky for me, he’s been bored and so to pass the time productively, he’s been coming to the shop and standing in as gardener. And painter. He’s raked out the back yard, raked out the existing perennial beds and then proceeded to carve and cut new “sexy” curvy flower beds all around the white picket fence-line. I am such a lucky girl to have the friends I have.

So the three of us trekked back down Railroad Street, Dave and I on foot, me barefoot and Kalinas on his bike. We met Jared at the shop and started to paint around 5pm. Jared and I cut edges and Kalinas and Dave rolled. They took lots of cigarette breaks. I made lots of beverages and juggled Ella and four of her friends…. who were banished (with little argument) to the warm outdoors…for fear of them tracking paint everywhere indoors. We were done just after sundown. Ella left for a sleepover with the friends I had been juggling and the adults all headed across the street to drink wine and celebrate…. coming back hours later…. with an entirely different caravan from the bar… a bottle of wine and some beer….and started to put the room back together. We changed the layout of the room about a dozen times as the bottles got emptier and then finally settled on what is now the new layout. We got home around 2am.

The next day, after a couple of Advil in the morning, I left for the great Virtual New Jersey of Williston, Vermont, where once fertile river valley pasture land has now been laid with asphalt and the advent of the box store phenomena. I went to Home Depot and purchased new deck furniture for the wrap around front porch of the shop, loaded it into the back of Bill’s pickup and then left Williston, as fast as I could. I visited a local nursery on my way home, purchasing three beautiful, lush, hanging ivy plants for the bay window in the living room and some hanging flower baskets for the porch .

I pulled into the shop to find “everyone” hanging on the stone wall that borders the place. Without even having to ask, all the furniture was unloaded and unwrapped and assembled while I...finally.... took the time to feed myself.

Bit by bit, more folks showed up. On bicycles, in cars, with mandolins, a bottle of red wine and some cheap yellow beer. Ella scaled the trees, covered in dirt. Manka and I went across the street to the Grand Union and purchased a wuffle ball and bat. Penny and Ron, who live in the house directly behind the shop and right on the river, came home and drank beer with us. We played with my new bow and arrow. We wished we had a hula hoop. We rode our bikes around town in bare feet. I dug out the garden hose and sprayed down the front porch with Ella, both of us ending up soaked and laughing.

We got hungry.
We went back to the Grand Union for veggie burgers, chicken and BBQ sauce and mustard and more beer. Penny made a beautiful salad and roasted blue potatoes and Ron cleaned the grill. Night fell and I ripped my jeans doing cartwheels with my kid in the grass so I borrowed a new pair of jeans from Manka. Ella borrowed a warm layer from Penny and did karate in the yard with Dusty. We all kind of mingled between the shop yard and Penny’s yard and listened to a reggae/Caribbean station from Pandora.com on Penny’s living room stereo. Ella charged every adult a quarter for every swear they made. Some of them had to start a tab. She determined on our way home that, had every adult actually paid up, she’d have made seven dollars and twenty five cents. I think she made about three dollars from Neal… who actually gave her the money, and an apology, with each curse. Sucker.

It was a perfect night.

And that’s how it’s been at the shop all week. Since the warm weather anyway. Folks stop by around closing time on their bikes. They help me sweep and mop and we crack an IPA and sit on the porch watching cars pass and taking runs on Tara’s old purple Sears bike with the leopard print banana seat.

My sign is almost done. Bill and his boys have made and erected a new sign post. …6”x6” posts, heavy duty, designed to hold this monster sign I’m so eagerly awaiting. We carved Lovin Cup CafĂ© 2008 into the cement for the posts. I’m buying a citrus juicer and a blender for smoothies this week. The place is feeling like home, the drawer is fatter at night, things are happening. The snow melted and the waters are moving with the force of spring….

I had flowers delivered.

Life is so good sometimes

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Fess Up Someone!

I received a beautiful bouquet of flowers today....huge bouquet....lilies, liatris, orchids........unbelievably beautiful and in a big, gorgeous glass vase............ with a card reading.........

For the Cafe
To add to the beauty of your new paint job

Sent anonymously.........

So far about thirty people have confessed but none of them are viable realities....

Anyone, Bueller, anyone????????????????




Monday, April 21, 2008

SIGNS OF SPRING



The snow melts to reveal last fall’s forgotten relics scattered around the yard….a winter’s worth of decomposing dog shit is included in those relics.

It’s above forty for more than three days in a row.

Then it drops back down to twelve and dumps another two inches of snow on us.

It’s not dark when I open the shop anymore.

It’s not dark when I close the shop anymore.

We drive around with the windows down and the heat blasting.

Geese.

Once a day I’m in the yard with a bucket of grain in one hand and a harness in the other, herding three heiffers and two pain in the ass bulls back into their pen because the winter reeked havoc on the electric fencing and it doesn’t buzz anymore.

The smell of cow shit makes you smile.

The Christmas decorations finally get taken upstairs to the storage room.

A pair of mud boots are kept, indefinitely, on the floor of the passenger seat in the car.

The idea of root vegetables make you cringe.

Ella doesn’t argue when I ask her to take the compost out. Instead, she goes upstairs, dresses up like Morgaine from Mists of Avalon and disappears for an hour. Loud singing can be heard through the window screens…. that are open… because it’s spring now.