Thursday, February 20, 2014

Bottles In the Post

Waiting for bottles and vials to arrive is frustrating. Tracking says they're in transit, so that's something. UPS knocks on the door, and that's something, too, because I've had things taken from the front step when USPS leaves them -- USPS, for some gawdawful reason, does not knock, nor have they the sense to leave a ticket on the door to pick up the package from the post office. They leave it on the step of my house which sits on one of the busiest intersections in town. Corner house with opportunities for all sorts of shenanigans. Had a few packages go missing that way.

I'm really anxious to bottle up this new perfume, to work out the kinks in the label designs. In the meantime I've de-Bugged the house, tossing all her glitters and glues and crayons and coloring books, dollies and Chap Sticks into her toy bin and putting it all away in 'her' room. I've swept and damp mopped, changed out the cat litter box, washed a few loads of laundry, taken out dinner, watered the plants, printed out soap labels, rearranged the perfume repository, checked online for where to purchase more Buddha's hand citron and bergamot oranges -- and still I wait as impatiently as ever for that damned package to arrive!

My son repaired my bike last night. He put on a nice fat-butt seat so I won't complain when we go riding together, not that it will do much good. I haven't ridden in over a year! A year. It's unbelievable to me. I rode my bike to work and back for a year and a half, loved every blessed minute of it. Getting started will be difficult without necessity urging me on. And there are hills here where in Fresno there were no hills. That will pose a challenge for me. I am so out of practice, the idea of riding, though exciting, frightens me just a bit. But I now live in the land of hikers and bikers and yoga masters and zen living. I must adjust. Hey, at least I'm eating raw dehydrated kale again.

I've been thinking a lot about my business plan. My non-gonna-ask-for-money business plan. I spoke with a good friend last night about how it scares the hell out of me, and how much I hate business-related writing, particularly coming up with a business plan, and she suggested I write a story about a business, my business, a piece of fiction, as crazy and out there, as artful and whimsical as I could come up with, and launch my actual business plan from my whimsey business plan. I kind of like that idea. In fact, I love it! The fairy tale of the incenseur perfumer and her little shop of miracles. Sounds good to me. Watch the story unfold here.

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