I have deleted and re-written this post a ridiculous number of times. Since there is no way to make it cohesive, I'm going to make a list, and work through all the weird, scatterbrained bits and sort it out.
On the drive home I passed a duck hen fretting and pacing around the body of her dead mate. He had just been hit by a car. I wonder how long will she pace, calling to him to get up, for pity's sake, they need to get back to their nest. Is there a new guy out there for her? Will she be fine alone?
As I arrived home, and pulled into the drive, I realized that the grass is really out of control. Need a 'fer instance'? I could not find the dog. A ninety pound chocolate lab was swallowed by the tall grass in my front yard. I did not think this possible, but when I told That Crocker Woman about the interesting things sprouting in my yard, she said "you mean the grass has gone to seed?" Yep. I guess that's what you call it. Ann wants photos. As soon as the camera resurfaces, I will take some, because there just aren't words to describe how wild it is out here.
Saturdays are for ice-cream. 'Boris' picks up the kids and I have the last hour of the day to putz around in the shop; usually I just spend it picking up, or knitting, or trying to wrangle paper work into a manageable pile so that I don't forget to pay a bill or something. Now that the weather is nicer, it seems Herr Becher's Jeep has a new trick, and that is to drive me over to the nearest soft-serve chocolate cone. My car possesses no such skill, so I've been taking advantage, (Today's cone was dedicated to Gaylen, who eats green veg and walks. Pure torture.)
I was going to re-style my sidebar here on the blog, and you've prolly noticed some linky-dinks are missing. Yep. Poor old blogger would not let me add a new page element, but do not fear. A renewed link list is being thought of, and will get posted from the shop, where the confines of an air-card do not hinder my blogability.
This morning, I began to consider what was contributing to the bulk of my sales (the old yarn or fabric question... it's the eternal puzzle for me), as a way, I suppose, of getting myself to think how best to move forward with the store. It was on my mind the whole drive into town, pondering if one half of the shop was holding back the other. On any day of the week, almost since the store opened, if you asked me what sells, I'd have had to say fabric. It's the steady seller. I asked the Big Man Upstairs to give me a sign, just a nudge... the merest suggestion that I should let the yarn fall away or keep at it. It took an hour and fifty six minutes to get a response... $767.47 in sales. By the end of the day, Clementine had hit nearly a grand, with only five yards of fabric sold. How's that for a quick answer? I feel like I haven't even gotten started yet, as I look around the store, eyeing up shelf space, yarn confinement, lighting, revamping the knit-pit. But it's nice to know that all my needs are being met, even when I have my doubts. It's still an amazing ride, and we're just getting going. I know, right?
That's all. I have a sock to go knit a toe onto. Have a FAB Mother's Day, whether your babies be two-legged, or four. *smooches* C