Monday, April 27, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
I own a small business. Translated,that means it makes no money. It is a Mail and Parcel store, so everything I sell, you can get somewhere else cheaper. We keep the doors open by offering Extremely Good Customer Service.
We have resolved ourselves to the fact the business exists only for:
1. To keep me entertained with the Pismo Beach native happenings.
2. Keep my children employed.
3. To house my husbands business, keeping his office expenses down.
4. The doggie treats and toy box for kids (every child gets a toy and every dog a treat). I get a chance to oodle them both.
There is no profit, nor has there been since I bought it in 2000. But I enjoy it and as long as it doesn't cost me money, we will keep it.
Sometimes the frustration factor of dealing with the business outweighs the small benefits.
Like when my employees all called in "stoned" for 4/20 (a national stoner holiday) so I was forced to deal with cranky non-stoned people all day.
UPS claims drive me nearly insane. Some guy brings in a box full of liquor (that he packed with one hand towel) insures it for $300. The UPS man juggled it and dropped it all the way to Arizona and when the potent liquid came oozing out, threw the whole thing away. It is illegal to ship alcohol. Now this man wants his $300 insurance. I try calmly to explain that he could have a SWAT visit from the ATF if he persists, but he doesn't care, he wants his money.
I had a man sue me once for $40.00 (the filing costs him $30.00) because I was mean to him. I hauled my ass to court with 200 pages of facts, only to have the judge rule in his favor, because he didn't feel businesses like mine should exist. What??
Now I am in a heated battle with the bank. They are idiots, Worldwide idiots who bought the small local bank that is next door to me. Same employees, who I call my friends, but with new BIG bank rules. They changed the rules and do not show you what is posting (being taken from the account)until midnight. But you only have to 7:00 pm to deposit money. In a normal world I would know what is presenting, but I don't live in a normal world and have 8 different shipping companies dipping into my account daily.
I thought I had put in place overdraft protection, but they are not honoring it. Bottom line, they have over $300 of my hard earned money in Overdraft charges. So I called the man I was told was the only one who could erase these ridiculous fees. Mid conversation, I realized that I had just told on my friends next door to their boss. I tried to back peddle and tell him I only called to have the charges reversed. He wanted a full report on his employees.
SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!
I cried and begged him not to call and "discuss me" with my friends (who are powerless and trying like crazy to help). I hate snitches now I was one.
SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!
Today is not a good day to own a small business. I am going to start selling liquor to elementary schools.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
The weather is here and I wish I was beautiful. It is 85 degrees with no wind and I should feel joyous. I live in paradise. Last night we watched the most amazing sunset over the ocean after a spectacular Italian meal.
I am feeling blue nonetheless.
Maybe it is the miserable, sexually confused woman who keeps dragging us into court on worthless and pathetic charges.
Maybe it is the fact that the bank just raised our mortgage, with no more explanation besides they can?
Maybe its because I have to take my son to court AGAIN today.
Maybe its because my husband is SUPER grumpy with his gimpiness and quite ready to be riding in the ocean and not hobbling.
But I am picking up my chin, and going to go out there with a positive attitude. I am going to practice One Random Act of Kindness to someone who doesn't expect it. I'm going to hug the mailman or feed the meter for someone or buy groceries for a starving family. Not sure what yet, I'm going let the moment take me and surprise all.
You should do the same: One Random Act of Kindness and report back here. I dare you.
Monday, April 20, 2009
DO NOT READ (ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE A CHILD OF MY MINE OR MY MOTHER) IF YOUR ARE A PRUDE.
My husband and I had a grown-up weekend that involved nudity and getting to know each other in the most intimate of ways. We are empty nesters now and this is what we dreamed of for 25 years. We locked the dog outside, turned up the radio, and brought out pleasure enhancement accruements. I like this new period in our life, it is like we are dating, yet know each other very well. We also can use things to enhance our pleasure that are not prohibited but not a good idea to have when you have minors in the house. A mothers biggest fear is to hear “What is the big pink thing under your bed?”
When the kids were younger, a long Disney movie meant some snuggle time, that was usually interrupted by an errant child looking for a spoon. When we locked the door, we told them we were reading. Then my daughter told her teacher that she didn't get her homework done, because her parents were "reading in their room" all weekend. It inspired us to tell her we were making love. She would never share that with the teacher. Instead she said her homework wasn’t done because her parents were too playful and loud when naked.
When my son jumped off the couch and broke his arm, I had double trouble, because I had just decided to tie up my husband using new knots and old scarves. I had to get the kitchen scissors out so we could go to the hospital.
One time the kids weren’t home and we tried making it on the hammock. It was attached under the eves of the house. While we frolicked and giggled, the swing gave way and we fell to the hard concrete. The eves came crashing after us, crushing and breaking two of my fingers. As I bled enroute to the hospital, I begged him to come up with a better story than the truth.
We had to sneak to have sex all over the place and their wasn’t a safe phone booth or closet in our hometown. We even made love in a public swimming pool (do not tell me about the germs involved, I was horny). My husband practices spontaneous chivalry, which meant if we were consummating our relationship outside, I was the one with pine needles in my back or sand in places I couldn’t reach.
Now we are older, our bodies have grown, but our passion has not faltered. We have time to enjoy each other and experiment. Well, I like too…… husband is not fond of buzzing, pinching, or whirling things. As the dog howled at the back door, the neighbors turned up their stereos and we had a loud and libelous weekend! Empty Nest is better than it sounds.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Then they started a business (or started working with a family member, I'm not clear of the particulars) called Acholi Beads. They distributed beads necklaces, bracelets and earrings all made with paper by the Acholi Tribe in Uganda. Last year they poured over $50,000 into the Acholi tribe, a feat that would have taken the tribe working in the rock corry 25 years to match.
Acholi Beads is a company I do business with, we do their boxing and shipping to their distributors. I give them the boxes for free and my cost on the shipping. I will do anything to help this great cause. The jewelry is beautiful and helps so many people that we would be unable to reach out to otherwise. It is a global wish come true and I am proud to be associated with the company and the Connolly's. They put the cool in cool.
Here is a video showing the company and its purpose. Website is http://acholibeads.com/
Acholi Beads Glimpse: Stepping Stones from James Pearson on Vimeo.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
stating: “You are the ultimate, sophisticated wine lover. You enjoy the elegance of what wine delivers and will pay money for the beautiful notes of a special glass of wine. Wine to you is an experience and not one to be taken lightly.”
How is this possible to sum up my wine personality in six questions? Why do they do this? Is it the ultimate marketing investigation? They have hundreds of quizzes and ask you to group your favorite movies, songs, TV shows, dogs, etc. I can't believe I fell for this insipid time waster.
These lists are then sold so we can be spam, junked mailed and faxed to death. Creative and vindictive girl that I am, I found a solution to these pesky paper problems.
Everyone knows about the famous Burning Man event. People go to the desert and experience elevated art, liberated love, and freedom. My friends that have gone worship it. They are sisters of Perpetual Self-Indulgence. My best friend has a business catering to the costumes and the accruements needed to survive in the painted-desert for 10 days it’s called Prism Magic. She sells petty coats, tie-die, costumes, solar ovens, survival kits, and an array of Modern Hippie Clothing. I will go to Burning Man someday, but husband hates crowds. I fear naked people.
Meanwhile we have a smaller version with a specific purpose we do in our Dunes every year. We call it Burning Mail. It amazes me how much printed material we have.
We make a huge pile of junk mail that we have all collected during the year (last years was over 20 feet tall and 6 feet wide) and we burn it. We drink wine, dance around the flames and watch two for one offers burn, burn, burn. We Run from the burning ash and go home after 11:00 with our hair smelling of campfire.
It feels good, even vindictive to the companies who consistently fill our mailboxes with junk we will never read or use. Now if we could just come up with the same cathartic answer to email spam. I would love to see “Want to show her your man stick, click her for Viagra” …….burn, burn, burn.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
The third by the neighbors barking chi-wawa
I base my fashion choices of what doesn’t itch or bind.
Having children is like have a bowling alley installed in your brain.
I’ve never been drunk, but often over served.
If you look good and dress well you don’t need a purpose in life
Two best sellers at the book store: Cookbooks and diet books. Cookbooks tell you how to prepare and the diet books tell you how to not eat any of it.
A gourmet who thinks of calories is like a whore who looks at her watch.
50-year-old men should not jump 20-foot dirt ramps on a motorcycle. If they do, they should not be surprised that they need to be carried up the stairs for three weeks.
People who hire their daughters boyfriend to paint the house should not be flabbergasted when she breaks his heart, the painting declines.
Dogs who eat painters putty have problems shitting for weeks.
Wine and Xanax is a good mix for stressed out natives as long as they have a ride.
I love people who are 100 percent authentic, even if that means they are assholes.