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Windy

It’s peaceful and calm here at the Auntie B’s Wax World Headquarters.  There’s been no damage done.  For a minute there (hours?/days?) I was actually kind of scared.

For nearly three days straight we had winds that would knock your sock off, if you were brave enough to go outside that is.  I don’t mean wind, I mean WIND.  Three days of regular winds that registered at least twenty miles per hour with gusts up to fifty miles per hour or more.  Seemed like more to me, especially when I was unable to relax in the bathtub for all the roaring outside, as well as stuff flying around and hitting the side of the house.

For three days I was on heightened alert for broken windows and a torn off roof.   I’ve never experience such unrelenting wind.  WIND.  It was almost like a nonstop tornado, except it wasn’t twirly and I didn’t see any witches flying around in the gusts, nor did I get whisked away to Oz.

But there was this…

Sticks

 

Branches

 

Sticks and Branches

 

Thankfully the Headquarters is intact.  There will be much clean-up outside, but I’ll leave most of that chore to Husby as 1) he loves chores and 2) he wants to play with his chainsaw.

Speaking of Husby and the past few days of ferocious winds, I’d like to present a somewhat delightful yet weird video.  The song was sung by Husby’s class in grade school, and to this day he performs it for me when appropriate (lately for sure) along with a very creative interpretive dance.  The man in the video is definitely not Husby, but a man with equal vivaciousness for life.  Enjoy!

 

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Into the distance, a ribbon of black
Stretched to the point of no turning back
A flight of fancy on a windswept field
Standing alone my senses reeled
A fatal attraction is holding me fast,
How can I escape this irresistible grasp?

Can’t keep my eyes from the circling sky
Tongue-tied and twisted, just an earth-bound misfit, I

Ice is forming on the tips of my wings
Unheeded warnings, I thought, I thought of everything
No navigator to find my way home
Unladen, empty and turned to stone
A soul in tension that’s learning to fly
Condition grounded but determined to try

Can’t keep my eyes from the circling skies
Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, I

[Spoken:]
Friction lock – set. Mixture – rich. Propellers – fully forward. Flaps – set – 10 degree. Engine gauges and suction – check
Mixture set to maximum percent – recheck
Flight instruments…
Altimeters – check both
(garbled word) – on
Navigation lights – on
Strobes – on
(to tower): Confirm 3-8-Echo ready for departure
(tower): Hello again, this is now 129.4
(to tower): 129.4. It’s to go.
(tower): You may commence your takeoff, winds over 10 knots.
(to tower): 3-8-Echo
Easy on the brakes. Take it easy. Its gonna roll this time.
Just hand the power gradually, and it…

Above the planet on a wing and a prayer,
My grubby halo, a vapour trail in the empty air,
Across the clouds I see my shadow fly
Out of the corner of my watering eye
A dream unthreatened by the morning light
Could blow this soul right through the roof of the night

There’s no sensation to compare with this
Suspended animation, a state of bliss

Can’t keep my mind from the circling skies
Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, I

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I spent a good part of the day buying supplies for my little crafting business.  To be specific, I had to buy boxes, bags, and wax.  Boxes and bags and wax, oh my!  Here’s the thing though – I hate shopping.

I might have mentioned this before, but if not I’ll tell you right now that I’m not completely “girl” because I don’t like to shop.  I get anxiety, especially when I have to shop AND save money.  I’m a defunct excuse for a female and was thrown into a tizzy.

There were two contender suppliers for boxes and bags, and two contenders for wax.  I fretted and toiled over which suppliers I should use.  This one saves me a bunch on product but charges a boatload for shipping.  This one is a universally trusted supplier and the other one is a new one for me.  The differences added to as little as $6 and as much as $15.

In the big picture, $15 (much less $6) doesn’t amount to much, even in a tiny business like mine.  Yet I couldn’t make a choice, for fear I’d be wrong.  For fear I’d lose.

Then it occurred to me…it just doesn’t matter.

I clicked “submit” for the boxes and bags supplier and got a purchase confirmation.  Then I did the same for my choice of wax suppliers and it was done.  Except I made a mistake with the wax.  I accidentally went with the 2nd choice supplier.  But you know what?  It just doesn’t matter.  It’s the same wax, just a cost difference.  I’ll still make a profit.  Not as big of a profit, but a profit nonetheless.  That that’s what matters.  I wasn’t wrong in my choice, just not completely right.  We’ll get ’em next time, Tripper.  Even though it just doesn’t matter.

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Creative time.  Tax time.  Time to make those computers and printers work for what they cost.

I’ve been working on a big drop-off for The Farmer’s Daughter.  I’ve got dozens of magnets and dozens of candles for the owners to stock their shelves.  I’m in the home stretch, ready to send an e-mail to the owners telling them I’ll be coming by tomorrow with the motherload of product.

Oops, I ran out of burning instruction labels, and I also misspelled Patchouli on the front candle labels.  No worries, I’ll just print some more.  Except all of a sudden my laptop doesn’t recognize my printer.

Hello, I introduced you two years ago.  Why do you ignore each other?  Did one of you do something to make the other angry?

I’m not angry at either of you.  I love you, my darling laptop, and you, my trusty printer.  In the threesome we have going here I’d say you, Printer, are causing the most trouble.  I need you, trusty printer!  Forget about whatever gripes you have with the laptop.  Perform for me!  I’m the one you love!  I’m the one who needs you!

I tried to stay calm and be understanding.  I clicked everything I could to help the printer along, but to no avail.  The stubborn little booger wouldn’t budge.  There will be no printing tonight.  There will be no product drop-off at the store tomorrow.

Do you ever find yourself in a situation and the perfect song comes into your head to reflect that moment?  It happens to me all the time.  When I realized my printer wasn’t going to help me my mind starting singing a song from 1979.  It’s like I was trying to get my printer to feel sorry for me and work for me, via telekinesis.

Printer, you left me, just when I needed you most.  Please come back.

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You hear a lot about writing letters to your younger self or older self. It’s an interesting concept, but quite frankly I don’t know how much good it does. If you write a letter to your younger self it’s not going to make a bit of difference because that self and so many years ahead of it is now in the past and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. If you write a letter to your older self it might be interesting to read when you get older, if you can find the letter those many years after writing it, and if it hasn’t been thrown away as drivel.

But like I said, it’s an interesting concept and perhaps the exercise helps with, I don’t know, something.

Recently I was introduced to a video that is just about the coolest thing I’ve seen in a really long time.  This guy, at age eighteen, filmed himself asking questions to his older self.  Nearly forty years later he filmed the answers as his older self and edited it all to be one man’s interview with himself.  I don’t know why I think this is so much better than writing letters; maybe the visual quality makes the “interview” seem more valid and worthwhile.

Check this out – it’s only about four minutes long and will give you a smile if nothing else.

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Waiting

Every day I wake up with a song in my head.  Sometimes they’re so obscure I have no idea how they got there.  Other times it’s very clear what teeters on the very thin line between my subconscious and consciousness.

Today I woke up with Tom Petty singing in my head.

The waiting is the hardest part
Every day you see one more card
You take it on faith, you take it to the heart
The waiting is the hardest part

I’ve been waiting on two things lately, one good and one not so comfortable.

Retirement.  I’ve been waiting on this one for years.  Now that I can almost touch it the waiting is even harder.  It’s like waiting for a big party someone’s been planning for me ~ I know it will be a great time, but I don’t know what’s really in store for me at the party.  What kind of games will we play?  What kind of food will be served?  Who will be in attendance?  Being retired will be great, but the details of how my life will actually be are still a mystery to me.  Waiting to find out.

My dad’s recovery.  This is the not-so-comfortable kind of waiting I’ve been doing.  It’s the kind of waiting all people have to do at one time or another, or lots and lots of times.  And when I have no control over how the story progresses, waiting for the outcome is nerve wracking.  I’ve been waiting for information from doctors, waiting for phone calls, waiting for signals for help, waiting, waiting, waiting.  It all kind of makes me want to sit in a corner and suck my thumb because I feel so helpless.

The thing about waiting is it never goes away.  We’re always waiting for something.  Once we’re done waiting for this we’ll start waiting for something else.  They say we should live in the present, but the hard facts are that there’s something beyond this moment in time, and waiting to find out what that is can be really, really hard.  In fact, it’s “the hardest part.”

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Imagine, if you will, walking through the Cathedral square in Cologne, Germany.  It’s a brand new world for you, but the world you walk in is older than you can comprehend.  The Old World.  They call it that for a reason.

As you walk along you hear music coming from somewhere.  A small orchestra.  You ask yourself, is there a concert going on in the middle of this, this ancient square in Cologne, Germany?  Of course you seek out the source of this beautiful music.

When you turn the corner you see the musicians.  Street musicians, not an orchestra.  Street musicians with a case in front of them for donations.  A violin, some accordions, and a tuba.  That’s all…making this glorious music.  It’s absolutely stunning.

Charlotte and I stood in awe watching these musicians play with a passion that took our breath away.  The experience was one I’ve never seen before and will probably never see again, but it is one I’ll never forget.

The Compatible.  That’s what they call themselves, these musicians of unthinkable talent.  We each dropped a two-Euro coin into the violin case open in front of them.  It hardly seemed enough.  When I listened some more I went up and bought a CD.  It was the best souvenir I could ever want.

The video I’m sharing with you wasn’t taken by me, but is a fine example of what Charlotte and I experienced on a hot day in Cologne, Germany.  Take a listen, and tell me this isn’t some beautiful music.

I don’t know if you can get a CD of this music anywhere, unless you’re wandering about Cologne without a care in the world, accidentally catching those magnificent notes floating across the square.  I am so lucky to be one who has done that.

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