A lovely offer

My daughter, Beth, came to visit a couple of weeks ago. She hasn't seen my new "digs" yet. I asked her to tighten a screw on the Artistat I'm currently using for weaving, and in the course of the discussion I said how I wished I still had the counterbalance Mira I donated to Praxis, several years ago. It is a workhorse, and I'm afraid I'm beating the little Artistat to death.

That entire gift had come about because Beth, and the studio owner are friends. Out came her phone, and Beth asked if the Mira were available as a trade back. Jessica said "Yes, your mom should have her loom back." That probably will happen next week. We got it out of the old house only with the removal of the treadle bar, and I do hope we can get it in here the same way. And I am so grateful to Jessica.

The counterbalance Mira in the old studio. Isn't she a beauty!

I've just finished listening to The Old Curiosity Shop. It may be a Dickens I never read. Brain injury notwithstanding, I have no recollection, no clue of this book in the past. I was in no way impressed, except one. In fact, I almost gave up, before coming to the bit that engrossed me.

I'm sorry I don't know Mark Twain's opinion of the book. Mark Twain advised, on writing, if there is a character the author no longer knows how to handle, just take that character out back and push him down the well.

Actually, I felt that is what Dickens did with Little Nell. He certainly wrapped up a good deal of plot and action in that last chapter, including disposing of villain Quilp by drowning. But the center of the book, the tale of Grandfather's downfall by gambling, borrowing, gambling I found so well characterized it clutched at me. I could have used a trigger warning.

Which set me thinking about "trigger warnings".

On Thanksgiving Day, my neighbor and I saw Knives Up!  The only review I read of the film before I saw it was a Times Opinion piece that felt the film played fast and loose with illegal immigration, and we, or at least she, should have been given a trigger warning.

I hearken back to reading Lord of the Flies, the last quarter of which I read only enough of each page to ascertain Jack remained alive. To this day I have not reread the book. That's been fifty some years. I dealt with it, satisfactorily enough to progress through life. No one, especially no college professor, gave trigger warnings.

Another beautiful day

Not kidding; it got to near sixty today. Sad the days are so short to enjoy it. And shorter every day!

This stopped me as I passed the door this morning.There was so much sunshine, my Nike N's were illuminated and reflected in the storm door glass. I could not make this up!

I went out for a haircut after lunch. Oh, the traffic. I pass two nearby high schools, still in session. I assume their dear parents are still at work. It's not black Friday, and no one takes a day off work to do Thanksgiving shopping. Yet I was ten cars back at the four way stop, and the roads were just as congested.

I asked Melanie when I got to the shop. Everyone chimed in that it must be all the traffic exiting the freeway because of a bad accident. I can't find any news of said crash, and I got home with nicely sheared hair, so all is well.

I called my sister today to see how her township bazaar plans are progressing, and, well, they have not. A couple of weeks ago, as we drove to Seville to deliver towels, she regaled me with her husband's recent adventure of being rear-ended so hard his great red truck was driven into the car ahead of himself. By a youngster, texting, who exited her car with her thumbs still flying on the phone. Let me guess: "OMG! I was in an accident. I'm OK."

All week Jan and Tom have shopped for a car; Tom's truck was totaled by the insurance company. The end of an era; the man has been driving a truck, aka The Mobile Living Room, for nigh onto fifty years.

Tom was persuaded from a truck, which simply causes nieces and nephews and more to borrow both the vehicle and the person, for moving.

I said it would be an easy move in for me; a shopping bag of towels in each hand. Jan laughed. She anticipated two tubs of things to sell. She will ask Tom. They will fit in the new SUV.

Progress report.

I tend to panic until the process I am learning has passed through my hands, been a success, and especially, registered in my brain for the next time.  What I am learning now is the collection of money from customers not standing in front of me.

So, I am working on my new sales platform. A coder, or a geek who works on computer problems is already laughing at my shuffling pace of getting started. But, I do know what I'm doing so far. And that is, I realized I do not need to understand how to set up a sales web site that tracks inventory and has a shopping cart.

What I am doing is not that sophisticated. In fact, no more so than when I dealt face to face with customers. I know a good many of you have found the new page, and may be disappointed it is empty.

When the instructions are up, they will ask you pick what you want from all the inventory listed and send me an email on an embedded email link. I will fill the orders in the order I receive them, as follows:

I will pull the items you want and send you an invoice. I will ask you to pay the invoice in a reasonable amount of time. For now, let's say a week. When I am notified you have paid, I will zip off the tab of your previously packed Tyveck  envelope, seal it and take it to the post office.

Tonight I am so tired I'm going to bed early. Here's the rest of story. Today we played cards, and Nancy and I won by what we think was a record score. Or, as she says, we're only as good as the cards we get. We had a lot of good cards, and a couple of those hands took a lot of concentration. I'm tired. Good night.

I don't understand

Age can be about pain for a lot of us, I see. I do know the source of my extraordinary aches. My broken lumbar spine seems to be the radiating center of it all. Yes, I have osteoporosis. Yes, I smoked for more than fifty years. And lots of other things. It is what it is, end of story.

I visit a pain doctor. Actually, I visit his staff, and see the pain doctor once a year. The last time I saw the PA, I startled myself when I said pain was pretty much in hand; it is managed well enough and I am pleased. I don't think about it much, I guess.

Not long ago, though, discouragements commenced creeping in. Especially my knees. How I hate it when they are protesting loudly come morning. How I hate that I had babied them through the whole broken leg business, settled down, and now every morning I stand in one spot, waiting for the pain to subside.

And my shoulder. My lovely new, six month old reverse shoulder replacement, that has not been a minute's trouble. Except some morning it is my other shoulder, or both shoulders. And the ripples of pain down my back, like knuckles on a wash board.

I woke this morning, stretched the pieces parts, got up and started off. I moved slowly, but I did not lean on the wall and clutch door jams. I had my cane; I'll never be without it. But I was without debilitating pain.

When I came to open the curtains, the sun was blazing. I have no idea where the pain went this morning, so I'll credit the sunshine. I was out on the deck before breakfast. I went out and just stood and breathed in and out, half a dozen times today. The air was crisp and bright.

It's going on nine at night; the end of a very productive day. The cat already is sleeping on the end of the bed. I hear it has begun to rain. I just checked the weather. Actually, a wintry mix is falling. There will be snow by morning. Ah, well. It's weather. Nowhere to go tomorrow, and plenty to do.

The plan(s)

I will try to make a coherent outline of my little plan. I want to go back to selling what I weave.

At first I thought I would make the most down and dirty plan I could. Weaving is good. Sales tax, not good. Extra money is good. Income tax, not good. I won't waste our time spinning out my several improbable schemes. Do people even want to buy towels?

There are a few blogger friends to whom I've promised towels, hopefully sooner than later. I decided first, to test the waters. I put the towels into artist open studio events, with success. That bit of sales impelled me into an annual event in the township, the December Community Bazaar, the first Saturday of that month.

The Bazaar is a real commitment on my part. and meant I had to follow words with deeds. I asked my sister to come share the booth, with her quilts. There is no way I could make an attractive eight foot display of towels alone, but we have put together a decent plan, with some good private laughs from our years of expertise.

Sales tax! I had to resurrect my license, cancelled in another lifetime, when the house sold. I've helped my sister with her legal requirements often enough to know my state's electronic platform has been reinvented since I last used it. 

It was easy, peasy. Though I remembered little, I remembered the answers to the secret questions. Take that, brain injury. It makes me wonder what little nuggets float in your brain forever. I didn't wonder enough to investigate, however. So, if you live in Ohio and buy my towels, I will collect sales tax.

Then, to solve the biggest impediment to a sale, ready cash. Checks are fine, especially since I now know how to deposit them via my phone. Do you still carry checks? I don't. 

So, I now have a little credit card reader. Setting it up was not easy. The technicians called me in the afternoon or evening, when it is too easy to confuse my brain, especially with blue tooth. Yesterday, I called them, at nine a.m. It seems to be sorted, except I need to contact my sales representative to generate a new pin. 

That brings us smack dab to the present. What to do next, after the bazaar? 

I've toyed with web sites for sales. The long and short of that is, I don't want to maintain a web site. This month alone I spent an appalling number of hours simply retrieving my sales tax information.

No more do I have the easy resources, like accounting and inventory programs to gather up my sales and expense information. I must sit at the computer, not at the loom, and forego a game or two of solitaire because I must knock together a rudimentary P&L.

So, I will sell entirely on my blog. There are ways to do that, it turns out. You know, platforms that do everything. I need to look into them, understand them and how to use them. And I will do that. But I want to begin selling now, and have decided to do it the old fashioned way, the honor system.

After the Bazaar, on December 7th, I will add a For Sale page to my blog, and on it post photographs of every color towel for sale, and describe the additional cost, like applicable taxes and shipping.

If you want to purchase towels, send me an email, jnoragon at gmail.com, listing the quantity and color. Then write the same information on a piece of paper, and mail it to me, along with your check for US$, or your credit card number. I will take the orders in email sequence.

When I get your email, I will pack your order, change the quantity available on the blog page, and wait for your payment information. When I get your check or card information, I will finish your order.

I will ship every Monday, and more often if as many as half a dozen orders accumulate.

And in my spare time, I will look into the various blogger add-on's that allow direct selling. In my mind, it is simple. But my mind is not always trustworthy, these days, and takes longer to learn. 

Thank you very much. The For Sale page will go live December 9, 2019.