No, I’m not talking about the Harrison Ford movie of the late ’80s. It’s the countdown to our Grand Opening, and ladies and joims, it’s a bit mad at Chez ThreadBear.
Most of the physical demolition and construction on the house is done, but the property owner and I each still have a fairly hefty short list of things that we want to get done before Friday. He’s fortunately hired out work an a broken front stair, but he’s got floor staining, a bit of trim work, a handrail for the front stairs, the cleaning of a set of double-paned windows with broken seals, and a lighting fixture yet to install. Me, I’ve got one room for sure to paint (maybe two), more shelving to install, shop models to hang, patterns to organize and put into binders, a needle display to put together, and if at all possible, an accessory order to get sent if we’re going to have stock in stitch markers, Chibis, guage checkers, etc. for the big day… even now, it’s apt to be a near miss.
On top of that, my mother’s surgery was Friday, and it did turn out to be a 2" diameter malignant tumor attached to one of her ovaries. Both were removed, and her surgeons believed at the end of the surgery that they were able to remove all affected tissue. Fortunately, no other organs appeared to have been involved. She’s supposed to told Monday whether she’ll require chemotherapy, but otherwise, the surgery appears to have been a success. Oh, and where’s her only son? He’s in Indiana praying that his sister doesn’t strangle him when he’s finally able to get to Georgia. <sigh> Love you, Moma. Thanks so much for telling me to stay here and get the business up and running, but dang if it hasn’t been a battle not to get into the car and disappear for at least a few days.
Rob’s been a dear, too. I’ve had to excuse myself a time or two over the last several days just to let the panic subside, and he was kind enough during one of those episodes to come to me and tell me that the he and the shop could take care of themselves… to go to Georgia if I thought that’s what I should do. Of course, then I hear my mother’s voice saying, "I’d rather have you here when I can actually spend some pleasant time with you." Doh! Talk about pulling the heartstrings! She’s right, of course. I want to be able to enjoy the vibrant woman who laughs so easily, and I want her to be able to enjoy me being there. And she’s also right that I have mounds of work to accomplish here. And being here and staying busy probably is what’s keeping me from pulling my hair out right now. Why, though, is it that her being right doesn’t make me feel at all like I shouldn’t be there?
I love my work, I love my home, and I dearly love my family. Isn’t it wonderful when they all give you conflicting impulses?
Oddly enough, I’m relatively happy. It’s good to hear a mostly good prognosis, and it’s senseless to get any more concerned before we here the results Monday from the tests run over the weekend. The shop is however slowly coming together nicely, and we’ve had amazing traffic. I am a bit behind on color consultations for obvious reasons, so if anyone’s waiting on me, please be patient. I promise that I’m trying to get to everyone in the order requests have gotten to me. And please don’t stop sending the requests. I’d rather be behind and busy than have nothing to do right now. My work is keeping me—well, not sane really… let’s say together.
My very special thanks to all of the wonderful ladies from Louisville that visited the shop yesterday and to all of the very kind notes of concern about Moma. We’ve found an incredible community out here in Blogland, and I hope you all know how very special you’ve all become to me. Thanks.
Much love, people… and all the joy in the world.