Noon

"I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it.
The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear." -Nelson Mandela

For over a month I have been consumed by action that betters my family's life, and my own. In any department that we can foster optimism, there has been progress. Bad habits are being shredded like the paid bills. The new habits are being nurtured. So, change feels good. It really does.

"You cannot in human experience, rush into the light.
You have to go through the twilight into the
broadening day before noon comes and the full sun
 is upon the landscape". -Woodrow Wilson
 

Hope is in the air, because we recognize there is something new on the horizon. For me, Blondie's Laundry Service is but a small piece of the triple layer fudge cake I have had my eye on, and might just sneak out of my "Auntie's" back door.

Some revelations are like a thunder storm which blast across the desert. Lately I try to padlock my emotion so I can fully process my passion and give it direction.

But, my time, subject to this locked down excitement, is full of suspense. Like I am waiting for my turn at an old fashioned shoot-em-up.

I know the intensity of this emotion is driven by this new horizon, and any fears are related to not knowing what will come of  my actions, or role I will play in it.

But, if I must attend this shoot-out, then I must win. They say when a cowgirl is down on her luck, she plays her heart, and so my plan is to do as the cowgirls I worship, do. As in love it, and love as hard as I can.

Before I lose you with mushy love talk, know I speak of the love that puts your feet in the stirrups and after your daily bacon, and not romantic love. I speak of the love we have for that "pile" of things which move our human heart to song and our feet to dance.

I know what moves me to dance. I created a persona, and the tumbleweed feed so I would have a way to nurture it. And it has been a good place for me to practice, with my weapon, and pretend I am as cowgirl-tough as any man. 

These days it has been easy to buckle these leather chaps around my hips. I am excited to put on my work boots and my leather gloves. I have checked to see my pistol is in condition and loaded. You might catch me practice a a few quick draws and then holster my weapon for later, but I know I am ready. And able.

 

Like the cowgirls I worship I pull my hat low so that when I walk into the light I will not be distracted by the reflective light. I set one foot on to this boardwalk, because I cannot go back. Then I plant the other boot right beside it, because I might have to fight for what is right.

The other day I was linking up to the "professional world" via Linked in. I did not know what to expect, so with an open mind, I began to build a summary of myself. While I explored this process I felt like I was being forced toward, a very small definition of what was my experience or ability. I could not seem to "get it right" no matter how much I edited. 

 

Naively, I did not realize these revisions were sent to all my "connections." I was trying to put my best foot on to the boardwalk but I just slipped on a banana peel. I am not sure how it looked to the other guy and was just about to say to hell with it, and update some feed to read: "I know what I know because I went to school and then worked my ass off for it."

 

I mean, how do you summarize almost two decades of jack-of-all-trades service experience (some of which actually does involve poo)? How do point out the Nevada Press Association awards and not bring up that they never gained acceptance by my peers? And what words should I use to describe the need inside me to find the road less traveled, explore every inch of wild Nevada and then liken those emotions to that of a wild mustang, who is after mares?
 

I found it difficult to tell those who are Linked In, that I have learned and laid down character since I was "hard at work," and found plenty to be scared of in this big beautiful world. Where do I point out that I learn the hard way, and the long way. That I have came to know that the ground is not flat, or even, and it no where near fair or forgiving.

I have survived birth. And death. And being screwed by a big bank and lost faith in government, and now I find bureaucracy stretches from here into eternity.

I say real gumption comes when you deny yourself a prescription to somebody else's point of view; or yourself a handout when you needy. I learned from these life experiences that I am not just a survivor, but a fighter.

 

And then there are the sins of my past. How do I show people the brazen sins of my youth were recognized in the aftermath; and that now I keep a fresh set of rules on board so that I am able to walk a more deliberate path.

But, what about the path? How do we go about expressing that the path I walk is never going to be the path you might expect... That, if I were an empty old whore house, I would be one with a fresh coat of red paint on the fence.

 

Dear future employer,

My intent is to take the scenic route; or the long way; or the road less traveled to my own conclusion. My abilities may not exceed, but will not be limited to the size of a box. I do not have time to define my direction because North, South, East or West are all as good a direction as any to travel. And direction is nothing when I have already decided to have one adventure after another until my body is thoroughly used up.

This way of thinking surely presents a problem. After sending shrapnel into cyberspace for a couple of days I had to ask myself, who am I after? And who is going to hire me? Well, for this wild Wednesday I found my solution. I cut and pasted "Creed," by Dean Alfange into the Linked In summary of myself, and was done with it.


Creed, by Dean Alfange, goes like this:
 I do not choose to be a common man.
It  is my right to be uncommon--if I can.
I seek opportunity--not security.
I do not wish to be a kept citizen, humbled and dulled by having the state look after me...

Then I gave myself a #2 certification as Queen of Poo, because I have been weighed and measured and found myself wanting (even on the holidays) a lot more out of my life. 

I figure the poo certs will get it across that I am willing to get down and get dirty to get where I am going. The place I want to be is as wild as Nevada and has everything to do with my living, loving and laughing my ass off. So, I guess Linked In made sure I was finally ready to part from the herd, and proclaim my intent to set sail on the sea of sagebrush and celebrate it here.
 

While there is much to be afraid for, I will not mind the hardships because I want, and will have, my triple layer fudge cake (my dream). I am not afraid to learn what I do not know and and take a stand using the information I already possess. I know I am different. And I know fear still has a thing or two to teach me. 

Furthermore, it is time for me to fight the cowgirl fight for what is right. It is time to utilize my Queen of Poo certs to FLUSH disappointment to the poop pond where the rest of the turds go.

 

Regret is not needed here. I was patient, diligent, and even deliberate. I stood still. I waited for morning to turn to noon so I could pull my cowgirl hat down and step onto the boardwalk. If it is a gunfight they want then I will oblige them. While I was checking my pistol I found the door to my dreams unlocked and within reach.

Now I have something to fight for. And a place to unleash the passion I had to put a padlock on before.

So what exactly is it I am after? Can the adventures of this blog afford me more than mere adventures? Eventually it will. It will take some planning, and a lot of hard work. But, I intend to make the tumbleweed feed my bacon.

So yea, I know where I am going. I am hell bent for Sunday and my triple layer fudge cake with two kinds of frosting!

It just looks like a tumbleweed dancing because I found the light of noon and the courage to fight for it, and I am inspired by all the love I have inside or has been shown to me.  

 

Are you as excited as I am? Well, to link up, or read "Creed," check out my Linked In profile. I hope it will bring lunchtime to your otherwise unfun Wednesday. Also, please share, share, share these blog posts because this wildnevadan girl wants to go somewhere! Thank you for reading.

Until next time.

Loves,

HjB

Making Money For the Babies

 My kids have a way of making me think about some very complicated things. Today, I had to go into a lovely little shop downtown, and I told my kids, "Now, we have to be quiet when we go in here, and there is a lot of pretty things we cannot touch."

  

Just before opening the door I bend over and look at them up close and ask, "Are you ready?" I don't know if I am talking them into it. Or myself. I just know I have to go in. And I have to be brave enough to take them in, with me.

Their question echos the one I have been asking myself since I was yae-big:

"But, why?" 

Good question. 

Boys, there's two things on earth that you better figure out: The difference between the easy dollar bills and the honest ones. And insurance,(which is a fancy word for "most important bill."

  

True. True. The math for Blondie's Laundry Service, up to the point where I washed another guys' laundry was with pretend numbers. I said before the idea began.

 

There are a lot of bright orange shirts, jeans, long underwear, double socks, coveralls, sweatshirts, t-shirts, on those working men in town. And they get dirty. Every. Day.

I mean, I do know how to do laundry. Also, I have been educated. I know a bit about business. I  am literate and can operate my phone.

 

So, I was overly confident I would figure it out. And you could say I wanted more control of how much I earn for my effort. It is a shame when a good job won't get you anywhere or ahead.

 

So, that first $20 was easy to earn. I wanted it. All transactions since have been double, nay triple the effort. When the honest dollar bills came into the picture, I had to tie up loose ends, then make it legal. I had to develop, adopt, abandon, adopt and reinvent some systems...

I had to overcome snow; some water leaks; some bad stain remover; and a naive sense of order and time. Sadly, I now have some extra man drawers-which is and will forever be embarrassing!

  

Like I said, it is my kids who bring focus to my tumbleweed ways; they add the future to the present, and so I have my purpose. They challenge me to"figure it out" for myself so that I may help if they ever face easy dollar bills and insurance trouble.

Or maybe I will teach them to make an opportunity for themselves if they cannot see where one exists

So, Blondie's Laundry Service is about a month into official operations now and everyone has figured out a thing or two. I have even collected a team of people who help, and have made this heart humble again. If it be through osmosisis, I don't care as long as a lesson is passed along to the two little men that I drag along on the ride that is my life. It sounds like this now:

 

"Out, out," I said. "Lets go."

 

"Where are we going?" my oldest asks.

 

"Laundry..." I answer. My mind is a million miles away.

 

"Is it time to make money for the babies.?" says the younger. 

 

Talk about the biggest grin you could ever get out of a woman! They already know! If that doesn't motivate, then nothing will!

 

"Damn Strait." I told him. "We're making money for the babies!"

 

"Lets Go!"  And away we went in our welcome wagon on unofficial business we generated somehow. 

 

While I have a chance I want to thank these magnificent, dirty, working men for their business! You are helping little tumbleweed wishes grow into big fat dreams! Thank You! We hope you stay a long while and that we get to become friends before you return home.

 

Loves,

HjB

This Sounds like life to me dirty girl

"Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Willing is not enough; we must do." Goethe

 

In the new year I have been such a whirlwind of activity my friends are starting to stop just to "check on me." My Hon., and kids, are confused by my distracted, non-domestic (non-helpful) state. Also, with every untamed moment, I devour the words of wise and famous people who walked the line to their dream, before me, because it inspires me to fight another round.

I am vibrating like a chainsaw on idle, even while I sleep. It is exactly what this half raised WildNevadan girl-woman needed to get herself out of the fence to dance again.

I have found that when my spirits are down, it takes a calculated effort to bring myself back into balance. When I have a big or important goal in mind, I am the ponder the possibilities before I take any giant leaps of faith kind of girl.  Because from experience I know that the fall hurts like hell. Falling-- falling from grace, falling on your face, or falling short of success leads me to a place where I get less out of my life.

"Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life's cocming attractions." Albert Einstein.

Less out of life, is not good enough for me.

 

And because ideas go no where without action I decided to do. And, because I cannot get THERE, without  action, I had to get up out of that fence and dance. So, I'm here to let you know what I have been up to in such a whirl wind of activity... you know the back story.

There once was a Wild Wednesday, in which I remember I was trying to escape the dirty clothes pile that is like the song that never ends. It was, in fact the post to that brought forth Wild Wednesday. These Three Jeans and Old Biker Babes is "copied" from my old blog site and was much to do about getting out of the rut that is work and life with a little fun. My yucky work was always the laundry... 

 

Once upon a time there was a Wild Nevadan woman who hated her laundry. She would often fantasize about inventing contraptions that recycle clothing, or do all of the things in between washing and drying and folding and especially putting it away. Often she would dream she was at work at the local pharmacy, but instead of sorting pills in the glass box, she sorted laundry. She often writes on her blog about how she is haunted by the mound and believes it has babies while she is asleep at night.

A few months ago, the dream that I thought a nightmare, became an idea. I began to "do the math" on a laundry service. Crazy? Yes. Crazy-wild!

There was a lot of fantasizing in the beginning, like maybe this business could fund a freaking trip to the desert! The glass box is getting me nowhere! Or, maybe if I do enough laundry I can hire an employee and then bring my laundry to be done for free.

What a strange woman I am when I am without my desert wandering! I thought and thought on alternatives, but alas, somehow, this idea keeps with me, through summer and into fall. I was just at a total loss on what to call it.

I talked often with a good friend of mine, and one day he says, "Blondie's Laundry."

And I realized sometime later that night that I had been looking at the wrong page of my map book. The road I had thought I traveled to this point is but a memory. It was yesterday.  

If you haven't met Blondie before, you can meet her now. She was my Grammie. What a great lady. I have talked about her in this blog as many times as I have complained about my laundry. She never minded washing a few loads of laundry for me. She would turn my dirty rotten rags into fresh and tidy piles. It made me feel so good. So special. And part of a real, solid, I will do just about anything for family kind of place. And the world was less scary when I left her house because I was "presentable" again. She was a dirty girl's savior if ever there was one!

After U-hauling her washer and dryer out of her now empty house, and her washer and dryer became mine, I would often think about the times we sat on her bed and folded my sad looking lot of clothes, and she would politely bring up the rips and tears. She would mention that I was acting a little too rough for my gender.  

 

Being who I am I would argue with her. I was young. I was feisty. I would tell her, with huge pride in my heart, "Gram. I wasn't meant for sitting still. I was meant to work hard with my body. When I am done working I want to play just as hard. The best days are the ones when my clothes get gross. I guess I just like to get dirty. Maybe I am a boy."

 

She would say, "I know."

 

She never really minded that I like dirt under my feet, and finding beauty in what is weird. When I was young she probably thought it would pass. When I was in my 20s, and I burned pavement and dirt roads, sagebrush, and tires like they were Marlboro's, she probably worried a lot for me. But, she always supported my Wild Nevadan ways and was the first and most regular customer for my cards and pictures. I have learned from her that there is nothing parallel to having a relationship with somebody who recognizes who you are and finds good in those qualities, even if they do not align with their own beliefs or ideals.

 It is exactly the kind of business grandmothers should be in.  It is the type of behavior I emulate when I have mucked things up or found myself lost on the road to success.

 

One day I found myself in this hamster wheel. The one that is unfulfilled. The one that you can't even make yourself grateful for, now matter how many inspiring words you look up in a dictionary or quotes you can google. That's when you have to look at not only where you have been, and what you have learned, but what you want out of all this effort.

And I thought, "Did I just forget where I was going?"

Oh, no. better get busy!

And so I put on my work gloves. The ones my Hon. buys me. The ones he taught me how to wear and hang on for dear life with when there isn't anything but noose to hang onto, or the boat is about to capsize. And I jumped headfirst into a dream.

And my friends are stopping by to check on me because I finally managed to make laundry fun. And nobody can believe it is working, except me.

And now my wild Wednesday joke of  yesteryear, when and where nothing much changes around here in a week, and even the laundry pile looks the same, is now the biggest oxy-moron you ever met. But that's how naked stick bushes dance I guess.

So, here's the introduction to the latest and greatest thing to come from this wild mind of mine. Blondie's Laundry Service. We are Open 7 days a week, serving the Tonopah, NV area from my humble home, here on this mine dump. Service includes Free Pick up and Delivery. Please call or text us to schedule pick up. Our rates and current specials can be found on the Blondie's Laundry page, or by clicking this link. Blondie's Laundry Service.

It is going to be a whole hell of a lot more interesting for this blog than sourdough! And I am grateful again to have something to facilitate this most recent crash course in life; in how to turn laundry into a business; and pursuit of happiness. It has been more wild a ride than I can explain today. I hate to leave it out now, but soon I shall reflect on the fun and frighting things that happened this month in conjunction with the opening of this little business.

So far, it has been everything dreams are made of; every bit of rewarding, and scary, and exciting and exhausting as those words were ever meant, or how you wish to take them. Right now I must go, because there is much laundry and life to sort out.

Thanks for reading and sharing!
Loves,
HjB