Got what I wanted

Funny, Tuesday Market yesterday was all that I envisioned and more. It's back!

We had eighteen vendors and looked wonderful. Lots of people were browsing, many conversations going on at once, and lines formed for the ice cream. Perfect weather, pretty good time.

I'm gradually realizing that I don't have to fix it, can't anyway, and just need to hang in there, be committed myself, and let things flow.

Which they do.

I got in trouble for announcing the Corn Guy before he actually showed up. I had a feeling it was a bit early for corn. Sorry to those who came down looking for him. Pretty soon though.

Now my vision is that it would be fine with the farmers if some of them came over and set up with us, since we have plenty of room and they seem quite full. I can see the Redneck truck, which is in the street on Park, Horton's, which is out on the outskirts, and some of the others who would love our space and whom we would love to support with our dollars.

One can dream.

Shifting

Even since I last wrote, the weather has changed, and other things shift along with it. This morning the RG headlines the Courthouse Plaza dilemmas, in a fairly nondramatic way. Yup, here's a little problem, let's shine a light on it.

It mentioned that the SM paid for the $2000 (plus) fences for the upper part that have really cut down on the illegal activities, and by the way, we haul them out from across the street, truck them over, set them up, and put them away at the end of each Saturday. And, our workers clean the Courthouse Plaza, the whole space, even though we are not contractually obliged. Lots of work! Our site workers work from dark to dark, not always noticed, but doing a hell of a lot to make us run smoothly. A big thanks to them all, from the people who run the credit cards so diligently, answer all the questions about where we all are, and keep the cash flowing, to the ones who collect and sort all the compost and trash, put up and take down all of those pieces of infrastructure, and make it all happen almost invisibly in plain sight. Most especially Beth, who has the best combination of vision and practical application of anyone I know. She's always way ahead of me.

I liked the attitude shown by the blanket vendors, surprised they're getting away with it, thinking the city is just laid-back. Traveling from miles around to sell for free, who wouldn't? They think they are the Saturday Market, and arguably the drummers are, in a way. But if you are a part, you have to contribute, so we will be there for you too. No free rides, sorry.

We do get our money's worth, no doubt about that. I love the ads that keep showing new faces of those who make and sell, an endless procession of shining happy creators. I love how Kim wanders around in the afternoons digging out all the new products to feature, getting attention to the great stories just waiting patiently to be told.

Maybe some balance will come soon to the Courthouse Plaza situation so that more people get their needs met. I'm clearly on the side of making less work for our staff and shutting down the unpermitted sales, and keeping the public clear on the idea that we offer fine art and craft, made by the seller, not just everything, but the best of it.

And talking up Tuesday makes me think more people will come this week. The Corn Guy, aka Paul Toups, will be coming on Tuesdays, yay for that. I wish we could add a few more farmers, because as Chris said about their own vendors, it's hard to get the sales when everyone isn't in the same location. Ironic. But I'm ever hopeful about tomorrow.

I'm doing shirts for the Hoedad reunion next month, pretty excited. My Hoedad connections go way back, but mostly with dead people, alas. I was old friends with Lowell, and had many a chat with Wally in the Kiva or on the Park Blocks. Rick Sherman used to work for us back in the 80's. There was that stellar fling with B., whom I won't name just now but it was a great one. I'm still friends and acquaintances with many others, through Family School, the Market and the Fair.

I'm surprised I never planted trees, it seems like just the kind of thing I would love. I'm glad, actually, because it would probably have wrecked my back sooner, but the pictures look so romantic and wonderful I wish I'd been out in the woods with some of these fine folks. Young hippies, and those were the days. Learning about consensus, about how people work, about how we ourselves worked, or didn't work very well, all enriching and memorable times. Politics.

Some things never change. We just pass through and pass by. I'm glad to be holding down the old at the Market while also bringing in the new. I sold two Jell-O roses on Saturday, one to Jan's mom, who came all the way from Chicago to visit her. It was a sweet interaction, with her Dad buying a hat. The other rose went to a lovely woman who was entirely fascinated and really wanted some, but couldn't quite convince herself she needed it until one of her companions noticed that one rose had a pin back...and she collected pins. I quickly told her the price was $10, and the deal was sealed.

I took out all the roses yesterday and added petals to most of them. They look like new flowers. I think I will take the wings off the fairies and make them mermaids. I hope I can find the mermaid collector's card, I know it's here somewhere. My desk is almost clean of Fair clutter and the many sorting tasks I'm always in the middle of. Good thing I don't need a kitchen table to eat from or anything like that.

So, the post-Fair slack time, I love it. We got a sweltering day yesterday, finally, and I have two of the lilacs pruned, something I was supposed to do in May. I have too many spring-flowering shrubs, quinces and lilacs and daphne, and all needed to be pruned long ago. But I will get it done this week and get ready for the annual porch painting, if the weather will stay dry for awhile. There are always painting projects, every year, and other chores that stay on a perpetual list. It is getting harder to keep up, but not hard yet, just endless. It's nice to feel needed. I suppose that is one reason I garden, to have things to take care of that grow and change.

Miss my son. It was nice to see him every day at the Fair, however briefly. Thank goodness for FB where I get glimpses of family now and then, and get to be in contact with people all over. What did we do without it? I remember letters...

Okay. Ordering bandanas and bags now to dye for the Hoedaddies. Might even go to some of their parties. Kind of excited for August.

It's not me

I know the unwritten rule is to never say anything negative, to just keep smiling and operating as if all were well. I did that all day yesterday, but I had zero sales at the Tuesday Market. This hasn't happened in decades, so I know it isn't my stuff or my attitude or my display or my inattention...there were no customers.

We were only five booths, and two of those were expanded 4x4s, and the forecast was for thundershowers. It did rain, one time, though it was cloudy all day and we wore our coats and blankies. But the weather wasn't that bad. There just weren't any customers.

I'm too stubborn to let Tuesday Market be killed off in one season. I'm committing to going every week now until October when I have to go to Delaware for a week. I realized that I can't control the farmers, I can't make things happen on my own, and I can't control the weather, which is the main reason we are having such a poor season.

I can show up. Weather doesn't need to be a big problem, as far as my selling goes. Yesterday I used a piece of plastic and also had the bright idea to just move my pop-up over to cover up the stuff a little better during the rain. I put away the Jell-O. I put away the silk flags. It wasn't a big problem to deal with the weather, and I am strong enough to not let that be my excuse for the rest of the season.

It's distressing to put work into something that doesn't reward me, but I will forego the immediate rewards if we can get this thing back on its feet. Even last year in the spaces that were not as good as the year before, I made over $200 some Tuesdays. The last week in July and the first week in August were both good sales days for me.

We're in a bit of a bind as far as promotions go, since we can't advertise a Saturday Market experience with only five booths. We can't book a musician for a space too far from our booths to even gather a crowd of us. I considered paying some musicians to come over to play for us but I couldn't promise that they'd make any cash...I was going to offer $5. If they had even looked over toward us I might have, but they played all day with their backs to us so I got stuck in my huffiness. Saturday Market is paying for a porta-potty for us (Thank You!) so they are investing in us, but it isn't Saturday and there isn't a lot that money can solve.

My attitude may indeed need some work. I really want to do something to make this better. I lost several sources of income in the last year, and Tuesday Market was important to me. I refuse to get pushed down by an arbitrary decision by another group to end a fifteen-year relationship...I keep singing that song "Got along without you before I met you..." which doesn't really apply but helps me keep thinking about now.

What to do? I tried interesting TV stations in the only Jell-O Art for sale in the world (not to mention the wonderful caps and bags you can't find anywhere else) but I have no clue how to write a compelling PSA, and anyway it was obvious self-promotion and it didn't work. Kim does usually FB that we are down there, but there's not much new to say about it. We probably exhibit just a bit of desperation as we face the bustling farmers from across that busy street. I tried to just keep doing my work (analyzing OCF sales) and pretending not to care, not to take my failure to sell personally.

I've considered going to the farmers for help, to ask them to promote the Tuesday Market, to ask them to find a way to re-include us on one block (doesn't feel good yet), to let them know how their decision to marginalize us is killing us off, but that doesn't seem like a good plan. For one thing, I personally have no influence on the farmers. They must have observed by now how tough it is for us. They weren't all that full themselves yesterday, and we could have filled in the spaces I guess. Maybe I am too emotionally involved in the issue to find real solutions, but I can't think of how to frame a request to the farmers. And anyway, if there isn't room for all of us, there isn't room for any of us, or so went our thinking when we moved to the other block. We had twenty-some vendors then, and we thought we could increase that and present a strong market, but persistently low sales and bad weather made that a bad gamble.

Let's face it, it's not our work that is at fault, or our presentation, or anything we do. There just aren't enough of us to entice people to come over and browse. All of the people I have asked to come sell have wanted to wait for it to build and be more rewarding, though a couple did give it one try. I can't criticize anyone for prioritizing their time so as to not spend hours for no return.

But I did feel yesterday like a patient about to pull the plug. It's disheartening to not feel any support. It's cold and I feel tossed aside.

So if you ever felt the need to do something to support people who really need it, come help us build this market back up. We need a lively and attractive group with lots happening, and we will all benefit if we work together. If we don't get it more solid before the season ends, we're probably going to have to let it go. That makes me sad.

But maybe I'm just being dramatic and triggered by loss again. Let's think about another scenario: the weather was bad, but it will be great for the whole next two months, and vendors will return next week and there will be plenty of us again. We will have music and dancing. Did I mention there is ice cream? The Red Wagon Creamery was there with super delicious ice cream cones and they are definitely worth the trip. There are nice benches and walls to sit on in the sun (did I mention there will be sun?) Everyone will have a wonderful time and go home with full pockets and lighter loads.

May it be so.

Wet again

We thought last spring was wet, but there hasn't been a year for wet Saturdays like this one in my memory. I'm getting so resigned to selling in the rain that it doesn't even seem so hard anymore, and I'm even trying to commit to Tuesday whether or not it is wet.

Someone is not appeasing the weather goddesses correctly, although OCF weather was perfect, not too hot, not wet at all until Tuesday when everything that needed to be inside was, and the dusty things still outside were nicely cleaned. Maybe it was that water ritual they did, very lovely and appropriate for a year when water played such a big part in our lives.

Today I have to clean a layer deeper, all of those odd items that got shoved aside and still scatter my house and yard. Have to put the project room back together and get back to doing scarves and Jell-O.

Scarves and Jell-O, my plan for the future, slowly manifesting. I priced the Jell-O high on Wed and Thursday and didn't sell any until Sunday afternoon when I sold the orchid I was wearing to a young man at Valentine's in the meadow, but I shared it with plenty of people. The peach flags sold, the Elders flags sold, and people like the violets design. I didn't display most of the scarves, but with my diminished inventory the goal is to find a place at HM for them. They would probably sell better online than in the open air, so I will recommit to making that happen. I got a lot of positive feedback on those products even though it is obvious that most people don't have a lot of money to spend on frivolous purchases. I'm looking forward to working more in both types of media.

I have a bit of printing lined up, easy stuff that I can make myself do. It occurred to me that I could actually only sell hats and not change my Market sales that much. Something to think about. I need new hat racks.

And the gardening I have to do...garlic still in the ground here and there, and potatoes that need harvesting, and tomatoes that still need staking. Big old weeds. Still haven't pruned the lilacs, but that is how my summer goes.

The Fair demands a high degree of focus, and not until the days after do I see the contrast of that intense month or two with my normal mode. I seem to do better every year with the staying on track, the keeping irrationality under control, the over-production I feel compelled to do (this year it was hats, so many hats). Sales were down for me this year but I think part of that was that I sold off a lot of seconds, a couple of boxes of hats I'd been saving for years, and several boxes of shirts.

Part of being this age is that everyone talks about getting rid of things, and trying not to accumulate more, and I am reducing my surplus and thinning down my offerings. It doesn't seem to work for me to slightly reduce the price on items, like the tank tops I put on sale yesterday. People still choose the cream, the best, newest items in the sale, and would no doubt have paid the full price. It works better for me to have the big baskets of seconds at the Fair, stuff I have no attachment to and am happy to see walk away for $5 apiece. Shoppers are delighted and patiently sort through the piles, and if I see something not sell out of there after a few years I make a rag out of it and it is gone. I also bring sale stuff on Tuesdays, trying for one type of shirts each week, kids or tanks or men's or women's, though the weather and busyness have kept me from Tuesday for the last month. That way I have consistent offerings on Saturdays and feel good about bringing my finest work and making Saturday shiny.

One thing I noticed and loved about the Fair this year is that it feels so solidly the alternative culture, like the Market, and I feel so at home and with my people. Much of what I value in my life is reinforced by the orientation of love, open honest interaction, and gratitude for all the bounty and astonishment our world provides us with every moment when we are aligned and paying attention. We can all win if we all decide to work together in that way.

People criticize the Fair and the Market occasionally, but they have lasted and shown their solid foundations and have weathered many challenges. This says so in color, that it is a family reunion and a fun one. People feel safe to be their most creative. This is more valuable to me than I can say. We're very lucky, and I, for one, am holding on tight to this and making it count as I attempt to plan for the coming years.

I tend not to criticize now but analyze why decisions are made the way they are, what the thinking of the decision-makers might be. A recent letter put out by the farmers used such transparent hyperbole and tried hard to paint me, SM, and the alternative community as evil schemers out to persecute them that I just had to laugh and shake my head. What would be the purpose of such disinformation? To silence, discredit, and marginalize us for the writer's benefit...good luck with that tactic. Rather than respond to silly distractions like that, we just keep doing what we are doing, keep doing it well and looking for improvement. Pretty sure the sky is not falling, though what is falling from it has been more than enough of itself.

I'm pretty happy with the way decisions are made in my two primary organizations. There are many thoughtful people involved, they are committed to seeing all sides, they are good listeners, they see what works and come from varied enough backgrounds that they bring lots of good ideas forward for consideration. They understand how close we all are the the edge of getting our basic needs fulfilled, how hard it is to plan big when on that edge, and how feeling safe to be ourselves and do our work needs to be protected. I feel connected.

And I feel appreciated and inspired. While it can be exhausting, I really can not complain about how it feels to spread out my goods and have dozens, maybe hundreds of people come and delight in them. Some are so intrigued or satisfied they come back, bring friends and family, and hand me twenties as if it were easy, and not a profound, sacred transaction where they are helping to put actual food into my hungry mouth, keeping me literally and creatively alive and well.

I do not take this lightly. I am so much more grateful for this than I can articulate. I love the rituals where they hand me the chosen item, I hand it back, they hand me the cash, I hand back the change, they hand me the item, I put it in a bag, I hand it back...all the while we smile and make jokes for each other and tell little stories and recall past shared experience. Even though this happens over and over and I sometimes fail to recognize or even look closely at the person, I really do treasure this level of connection that is so available to me. I sincerely appreciate each purchase, well aware that without this customer, without this day at the Market, and without this culmination of the process that begins in my visual brain and ends somewhere in the future, I would have a very different life.

I like this one. I'll garden in the rain today and have the unstructured day I crave and need. Tomorrow I'll go to the bank and sort through some more boxes and get ready for Tuesday and into the summer, post-Fair routine of working on the house and yard, and marveling at the sound of the distant cottonwood tree and the tininess of the new chickadees, settling into my favorite time of year, the hot long days. How fun it was to discover that my new sidewalk is perfect for hosing off the rugs I use at the Fair, making that task so much easier.

I haven't been blogging because what I have to say is so mundane, so sappy and fruity and flowery. Thanks, all who made me a good Fair, and all who make me a great Market every single week. I'm with you, each doing our part to keep each other alive and producing. We're us.

Fair New Products

Getting everything finished at last...still making a bit of Jell-O, which you can see on the other blog, Gelatinaceae.











New Fair Shirt! With tattered wings on the back.








New hats!













I love the way the drawing looked but the scarves and flags all seem to have problems. Oh well, they will at least be new, if not perfect.

Tuesday Load

The new sidewalk is just about perfect, and here shows my Tuesday load, arriving home. The big number of baskets is my kid's shirt sale, which is one of my Tuesday options. I have found if I take the hats and bags, and Jell-O of course, I can take one type of sale shirts. Women's, men's, or kids, or maybe at some point, tank tops, are gradually being whittled down from my vast piles of items that are no longer in my Saturday stock.

With the new wide sidewalk and the stepping stones I temporarily installed next to it, I can fully turn the trailer for easy access when unloading. It's smooth and efficient and a pleasure.

Finally we had decent weather for a Market, in this year of rain every weekend and cold on Tuesdays. It was supposed to be 85 but the clouds kept it down to just warm and pleasant. The crowds still look larger across the street but the booths are crowded quite close together over there, so it looks busier. We have so much space even our high of 27 booths yesterday didn't fill it. There were many more people enjoying the benches and the quiet and we even had a mandolin player for a set.

It doesn't feel terrific yet but the vendors are a friendly and inclusive group. Now if we could only attract a few farmers and more food carts. I noticed the hot food offerings across the street were many; lots of booths that are not technically food booths are serving food, and it seems rather unregulated. Sales on Tuesdays are improving, and lots of Bach Festival participants were spotted, some even spending their cash.

My average for the 6 Tuesdays this season is around $90, not too far from my average last year, so that is encouraging. My lows are lower and my highs are too, but it is all leveling out, to a sort of consistency. People are catching on to the idea that there are interesting things happening on both sides of the street.

Country Fair puts a hold on my Tuesday attendance for a couple of weeks though I will try hard to be there next week, which shows last year as one of my highest. The very highest last year was the last one I went to, October 19th, and I have no idea what that means. Most of my retail theories are hot air, since there is not a lot of logic to how things play out downtown these days, if there ever was.

What I'm saying about the farmers is that they are in a growth phase. That's all I can say.

In a sweet kind of serendipity, I got the little job of OCF Archeology back prints, and D.J. brought me the "art", an old Chelamela shirt we made back in the 80's I believe. I searched the files and found the original art, which is so much better than a copy taken from an old stretched-out t-shirt. It's funny to see my old, awkward lettering on the logo. Looking through the drawers and boxes of art, I am again struck by how many hundreds of t-shirt designs I have done over my working life. Someday a retrospective would be fascinating (to me, anyway).

I'm still fairly panicked about getting everything done in the next two weeks, but nothing to do but keep working until the day to leave. I've managed it every year so far, so I don't know why this would be an exception. The trick is to do it without any emotional meltdowns, and maybe I will accomplish that from here on in. It is nice to have some quiet Tuesday time to think and to do whatever busywork and connections I can do downtown for a few hours. Tuesday Market is sweet.

But Saturday is rocking. Now surely this week it will not rain. We all need a sunny day.

Something is set in stone

Quite a week. Not what I expected, much more complicated than I wanted it to be. My goal to navigate my life with grace is fairly elusive.

Accepting physical limitations, or any limitations at all, is pretty hard to adjust to, I'm finding. I am tenacious and tend to hang on long past the point of sensibility. But like the ER nurse said, embarrassment? That's nothing.

The sidewalk project was highly successful in so many ways. It was exactly what I needed to do, and it was a wonderful change to work on a physical project with my son in a way that left both of us satisfied and happy with the results. He's 21, and has grown up rather delightfully despite my imperfect parenting. He got the "Work Hard" teaching, and is strong and getting stronger. He was a good team worker with his friend, and it was a pleasure to watch them work together and get all the phases of the job done thoroughly and with positive energy.

He can think well and is a creative problem-solver, and amazing with physics, spatial relationships, and practical solutions. I will be happy to turn this property over to him someday, knowing that he will maintain it and extend its life after I am gone. Or he will sell it and it will end up a pile of rubble in the dump, who knows. I doubt I'll stay attached to it when I am gone, though I may not be able to leave my kitchen tile. I'll have to have a little piece of it on display in my retirement condo or, more likely, my shopping cart filled with empty boxes and wet sleeping bags.

Even though I now have a completely accessible sidewalk to my shop, or more correctly, a driveway for my bike cart, any subsequent steps to make my houses really accessible will be much more difficult. Fortunately this is a longterm goal and not something I need immediately. Even to use a walker I would have to remove some cabinets from the back hallway, so I will have to think about that at some point. It's not that I am convinced I will become disabled, but more that I am trying to ease my fears by preparing for what seems to be the direction my body is taking me.

I notice the way old people walk, our shoulders slumping, heads looking down, unsure of our footing and our spines compressed and sinking. I see that happening to me. I consciously correct all the time, but the chronic stuff is there and I'm not that much of a magical thinker to imagine that it will just go away. Being graceful about it involves feeling prepared, so I can get the emotional stuff sorted out first and then act professionally and personally as I make the necessary changes.

Gradually I have to stop screenprinting, that much is clear. I only have so many squeegee passes left in me, and I have to stretch out my own retail work as far as it will go, to secure my income. I've been trying to prepare my customers for this, but it really isn't something that can be eased into in any kind of transitional way. One day they're my customers, the next day they aren't. It is a terribly uncomfortable transition and I don't have that many customers, so each time it has a huge, shattering impact.

My sense of loss this year has been huge for me and I don't see it getting much easier. Maybe people get used to loss and learn to navigate it with acceptance and humor. So far it is just pointing out my poor social skills and tendency to painfully trip myself on my undeveloped capabilities for long-term planning and strategy. But I will muddle through and maybe in the process develop more compassion for the others who are facing similar struggles.

We all have challenges that seem major to us and are barely noticed from the outside. Trying to explain it gets glazed looks from others as they probably are besieged by their own fears on the common subjects of health and mobility. I feel defensive, as it looks like I am strong and perfectly healthy, and plenty of people have it much worse. I don't really want to talk about it, and would rather just stay in a world of positive thoughts and happy outcomes, but this year it is just not an easy place in which to dwell with any assurance.

So, remember to fill myself with love and gratitude. I did get to a new level of appreciation for my friend Richard, who so quietly stands by me and supports me in the ways he has learned I will accept support. He has to watch me make a lot of errors in judgement. He has mastered the art of not saying things that will stick out over time as pointing out my inadequacies as a planner and builder. If he hadn't been available to advise on the sidewalk, and then to commandeer the pour and show us how to do the edging, running the joint lines, calculate the cubic volume accurately, and on and on, it would have been a much different sidewalk.

I remember when I started building this house, when I was reframing the inside of the walls so that I could insulate. I would look at a wall and divide it by how many studs I thought would look uniform and though I did put them in the right places by doorways and such, I didn't even get why they ought to be placed 16" on center. I didn't even understand basic things like using dimensions that would limit waste with 4x8 sheet materials. There was a world of knowledge I found out the hard way, and it would have gone so much worse had Richard not consistently checked in, finding a way to respectfully drop the pieces of information in the places where I could hear them, and never feel disempowered. He never told me I couldn't do a thing, or that I wasn't prepared or knowledgeable enough. Over more than fifteen years he was patient, encouraging and so very helpful.

And I was often arrogant, impatient, and dismissive of his input. I was really attached to feeling like I built this house myself, and could and would do any task that came before me with great strength, competence, and skill. I did do amazing work and even surprised myself with how well I did, and how determined and persistent I was in finishing it and making it somewhere I live happily. But I would have more of a hovel and less of a house if it were not for Richard and his constant helping presence.

I have this American Independent Frontier Woman mythos that holds on from my heritage, from my grandmother who lived in a soddy and my ancestors who made moonshine in the Kentucky hills. I like working alone and I like learning at my own speed. I like feeling like I am in control of my own life.

So allowing my body to age gracefully and to continue to try to respond healthily to its limitations will be a continuing challenge, and I will have to apply all that I have learned. With the sidewalk, although I was right in there doing a lot of the shoveling, screeding, edging and finishing, it was such a relief to pay my son and his friend to do the really hard parts, and it was so warming to hear Richard tell me that I didn't need to worry about the pour, that it would be fun, and it would go just fine.

It went well, thanks to my neighbor Fred who manned the wheelbarrow at a crucial time, and to Rich who fetched lunch for us and made us think we were having some kind of a party. It went well, thanks to John and Eric who got up early and were ready to work, always cheerful and happy to be learning new skills. It went well because Richard came early and stayed until it was all finished, and lent us tools and worked hard doing all that only he could see needed to be done. And it went well because with Richard involved, I could stay grounded and fairly confident and even look kind of in charge, and I didn't hurt myself.

Concrete sticks around awhile. The old sidewalks we moved were here almost as long as the houses, and this one could outlast at least the little house, which needs to be rebuilt and probably will be at some point. It's way different from ninety percent of what people do all day, all the slippery human interactions that can be confusing, frustrating, and fraught with doubt and self-recrimination. Concrete is physical and real and now more or less stone. When I cruise out of here on Saturday morning and cruise back in Saturday night, I am going to love that sidewalk/driveway so much.

Glad I got a few pictures. It was nice to have something real, hard, polished and finished to rest upon this week. Now, back to work.