Little Boxes

It is extraordinarily difficult to ship faery wings at times.  That is one aspect that dictates my designs.  Is it shipable?  Sometimes it is fairly easy to find an appropriately sized box.  Other times, not at all simple.  For instance, right now I am cursing myself for constructing a pair of wings with a wing span too large to fit into a box, even compressed as far as the wings will go.  I am still in search of a box to fit it that doesn’t incur balloon package charges at the post office.

On the subject of boxes, I have recently discovered several boxed products that amuse me.  The first is boxed water.  Yes, water.  Boxed.  Like juice.  Or milk.  The second, is a yuppie wine.  Yes, Yuppie.  This is not the common in-expensive mediocre Franzia.  This is a high end wine, marketing yuppies.  (Not that there is anything wrong with yuppies, just that there is such a drastic divide between yuppie and hippie I find it amusing).  In short, both of these boxed products advertised a particular quality, environmental efficiency.  You see, boxed products are less expensive to ship, better for the world than plastics, less expensive than equal quality products, and so on and so forth.

I purchased a box of the Bandits Chardonnay, out of curiosity.  And, in all honesty, it is quite delicious.  I find it interesting that my taste for wine has developed as a result of my passion for coffee.  Through coffee I have learned to hone my tasting skills, pull out individual flavors, savor them, and appreciate the craft of making them.

As far as coffees go, I have been on a quest for the best tasting gas station coffee.  This particular coffee quest came about when an ex-boyfriend and I traveled to Arizona some years ago.  On the 3 day trip there, I would often drive during the day and sleep during the night.  My night vision is atrocious.  In the morning, I would wake up and we would be parked at a gas station.  I would walk straight to the bathroom, clean up, get some coffee, and ask where we were.  When Odin and I drove to Boston together, I found a gas station in….Massachusetts, I believe, that was brilliant.  I had gone in at the crack of dawn, exhausted, looking a fright, and poured myself a cup of “gourmet” coffee.  I took a sip.  And, suddenly my interest peaked.  It was delicious.  I didn’t have to add sugar, and I usually add sugar to every coffee.  I took the cup to the counter, along with a bag of Gordettoes, and told the fellow how wonderful the coffee was, and mentioned my quest and that I may have found the answer.  He happened to be the owner, and positively beamed with pride, and gave me the coffee complimentary.  It was absolutely magnificent.  I drove away ecstatic.  And, since then, no gas station coffee has compared, although I’ve been addicted to finding it’s match.

Diversions are glorious things.  I just spent that past 40 minutes writing about my passion for coffee to take my mind off of the Stronghold Renaissance Festival in Oregon, Ill. this weekend.  The setting is picturesque.  And it can be a hit or miss festival, I know.  But this year it was particularly hard, especially since the coordinator of the festival is no longer working at the conference center.  I enjoyed seeing friends before the off season.  But, as a business, I did not do nearly as well as I should have.

And that’s what running a business is like.  Risks.  Surprises.  And pulling yourself out of it.  If you can manage to pull yourself out, you learn how to keep going and your business grows stronger.  I pulled myself out of a flop this summer.  Well, a near crippling flop that I may not have actually recovered from, but I’m getting there.  In either case, I am learning.  I am marketing better, I am managing my time and money for efficiently to account for the “not-so-good” festivals such as this past weekend, and I am getting there.  Albeit, painstakingly and with help, but it is happening.  And that is something to be proud of.  ESPECIALLY in today’s economy.  Little Green Pixie will thrive.  There is too much creative chaos to be contained in one person’s imagination.

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