NEXT Zapped

WANTED:  small storefront with living quarters

I found out tonight that the small storefront with the cool address is commercial only AND already rented.  So much for dreaming out loud.

My “next” got zapped, but not really… just the location got zapped.  The idea remains.  Time to prep so when opportunity knocks, I will be ready to jump.  That means I can’t sign any leases locking me into anywhere until I find the kind of space where this dream can become a reality.  It would not hurt to save up and clean down, if you know what I mean.

I am surprised that no one guessed what number is equivalent to “Thursday Afternoon” in my head, so here is a serious hint:  Monday is the first day of a standard work week. 



I blew my phone up, not literally, just blew off everything that could possibly clog up the memory so I could text again.  Clearing all data from email was a dumb idea, as it required setting it back up again.  It did not like my password.  My attempts to make it take it, along with failed steps to recover/change my password (in case I was trying to enter the wrong one) simply resulted in tripping the security features. 

They locked me out, with the promise that I would have the opportunity to answer a secret question if I wait at least 24 hours.  HA!!!  I am right back where I started… so if I keep trying, odds are that I will be locked out AGAIN.  Errr. 

The problem with the password recovery process is that it is NOT phone friendly… if I were sitting at a PC with multiple windows open, click on this one, click back on that… I could get the code AND enter it into the proper box.  That window auto closes, even if I open a new window on the phone, when I go to the alt email site to GET the code.  Bookmarking it let me reopen the right page… but since it was not left open as you can do on a pc, it refused the code.  INVALID.

Of course, I could set up a new email… but that is my fave email addy… it is on my rubber stamp, on all my handmade biz cards, etc.  I use it for all artsy things, blog things, facebook things, etc.  I don’t want to blow it off… OOOOHHHhhhhhh… easy op change, brb… done. 

I have a new email addy!!!

It is the old one with an N in front… Nbarnbees.  I can sharpie marker the change onto cards (not yet… might just remember the old password, got a clue setting up the new one, capital letter required, lol) but in the meanwhile, I can update email addy here and on facebook, etc so I can get notifications again.

Technology sucks… give me a human to fix problems, the machines drive me nuts.


I ducked under a window awning to avoid raindrops before noticing the address stenciled on the door. 

“Thursay Afternoon” popped into my head, along with a flash picture of myself living there, an apartment no bigger than a motel room with a kitchenette and bath tucked behind a little storefront.  I heard the soft tinkle of bells as someone entered the door, greeted by the heady scent of hand poured candles and soft music, old tunes, CSNY’s Suite Judy Blue Eyes.

    “Will you come see me, Thursdays and Saturdays, what have you got to lose?” 

What if…

Nah, what would I sell?  Handmade things, old junk? 

Every biz on that strip of storefronts ends up relocating to greener pastures where customers actually shop, just shop keepers trying to make a living.  The last of the real stores is moving this month, leaving only the artsy places that are not open every day, like a photographer’s studio with hours by appointment only.  There is not enough foot traffic to substain a brisk business selling anything there. 

So, what am I doing?  Dreaming out loud?

Dreaming out loud ignores realities.  I am not physically capable of doing much of anything, have mobility issues, nerve games, bad days when I make art, use the pencils to take my mind off the pain.  If I could work again, I could make some serious cash with my skills and experience.  I miss the money, but more than that, I miss the work… there is no way in hell I could do that kind of work again, but could I be a shop keeper? 

No… not 8 hours a day and not everyday.  My life runs in slo-mo now.

Little birdy whispers, “The street address is Thursday Afternoon, it wouldn’t have to be open every day.”

Just Thursday afternoons? Handle that okay, add another day?

“Thursdays and Saturdays, what have you got to lose?”

Nothing… I’ve got nothing to lose, done already lost everything – health, home, relationships, driving, etc.  Oh yeah, life slammed me upside a wall, spun on a dime.  Gotta love when insurance sales reps call trying to sell me a policy for “life’s unexpected events” or however they word it.  I just laugh…  those life’s unexpected events just make you re-evaluate your life, what’s important and what’s not.  Then you have to make a choice… roll with it, be happy regardness of whatever, or spend the rest of your days wallowing in misery.  I didn’t come out unscathed as I am physically disabled and I do have a bit of an attitude about some things… I don’t care about the same things anymore, they don’t matter.  I learned to roll with what comes.

In some ways, I am a better person now… I laugh more, feel more at ease with myself and other people, more open and friendly.  I can live a creative life, slo-mo creative, takes me forever to do some things but that does not matter.  Only strangers flash sympathy in their eyes now, but not as often.  Life is not measured by comparing yourself – what you can and can’t do, how you look, stand, whatever – to other people.  So what if I’m crooked? So what on so many things… yes, life is better in many ways.  I see things differently now.


Okay, so my view of life may be a tad distorted now, if my art offers any indication.  This is a landscape, lol.

But what about that stray thought?  A flash image of seeing myself at Thursday Afternoon?

It won’t hurt to check it out, find out if it is do-able.

It all hinges on do-ability:  the only way I could afford the rent is to live there, too.

That is a big IF with serious odds stacked against it. 

But, it does not hurt to ask… to check into the possibility.  I will let you know if it is do-able after I talk to the landlord.  Maybe it is just a stray thought, a flash idea, a dream out loud, but maybe… just maybe, it’s my next thrill on this ride called life.

To prove I’m not crazy, I will snail mail a small piece of art to the first person who figures out the correct answer to the following question here in the comments… do NOT include your snail mail address with your guess!!! The winner can send that to me later via email.  (This is the internet ya know… there are nuts out here.)  Okay, here’s the question:

What number is equivalent to “Thursday Afternoon” in Nancy’s head?