that was my December.
a mess of metal. a set of callused and sore thumbs....
the sting dead from pride and excitement
of a booming studio business.
I'd say R & S went through a fierce growth spurt.
a great first year.
a December I will never forget.
It's been 2 weeks since my departure from my studio. Seeing my business through the busiest time of the season and then promptly peace-ing out to the holiday goodness and a home away from home was about the smartest thing I've done all year..... with family and friends to visit, my hometown to re-acquaint myself with, and a whole slough of babies to introduce myself to. I have kept myself busy enough to feel needed, and relaxed enough to still call it a vacation. I have gained fresh air and fresh perspective...in many things.
The last month of 2012 was an ass-kicker, to my surprise and chagrin. Business boomed, and I made...and made...and made....I made late at night, and early in the morning. I made even if I bled. I made even when my eyes were crossed. Rag and Stone hit high-gear. or overdrive. or something like that.
Now, Here's something I'll share.
and only because I should admit it here in text.
a small window.
In the heat of the battle, I always find a way to bite off more than I can chew.
I don't know if it's a screwey sort of survivalists tactic, like adding more to my mountainous responsibilities will make me LESS insane, like another pile of work might add some perspective at the last minute. I promise things. I say yes. I say no problem. I say yes again. I plan dinners to entertain when I should just chill. I throw on extras in every direction....and then I throw a party on top of it all. I push and pull and extend to the point where I can't do it anymore. And so, I usually end up in a pile of my own tears.... a whimpering emotional rollercoaster, where even the sappiest and stupidest of country droll on the radio sends me into a teary-eyed spin. Every meal is my last, every dirty sock a war zone, a washing machine on the fritz a complete and utter ending of the world. My mole hills turn into Mount Vesuvius. My so-called-problems exponentially grow until I drown in them...whether or not they are ACTUAL REAL LIVE PROBLEMS or not.
I turn into a self-inflicted and over-saturated pile of goo.
That being said.
my little word for 2013.
I owe an inexplicable amount of thanks
to my Jesse.
Bless his heart, he is always there to feed me, give me coffee, and tell me I am doing a good job.
even if I am not.
even if the goo is extra messy that day. and the mop is nowhere to be found.
This guy. He deserves a solid round of applause.
and maybe a new mop.
because for sure, the old one is completely worn out and probably nowhere to be found....
now that I have taken my vocational blur to another state...
he probably hid it in hopes it wouldn't be needed for a little bit longer.
or at least till next christmas.