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

Are you sure this is camping?

When your life is rural, it is fun to dress up and go to town. It feels special to spend the night in a motel and eat at a restaurant. You are so close to God's great outdoors that sleeping under the stars is the furthest thing from your mind. You are more inclined to get away from it, with a short stop at some semblance of civilization.

I have been wondering lately where do Las Vegans go to "get away" for the weekend? Living in town, makes me itchy for the wilds. Just like living wild used to make me miss Starbucks and Chineese food.

I get off pavement whenever I can. This summer my boys have come to love camping. Up to this point it was not our way to get away. So, each camping trip is a new experience in itself, and they are getting to know what it is all about.

This past weekend, Colton was urging us to go back to camp so we could camp, but his father and I were scouting for dead trees. Ahem. Firewood. I was a little annoyed that he was not enjoying himself as much as I was and tried to explain we were still camping, even though we could not see the tent.

The next thing you know we are trying to make our way up this incline in the Yukon, and My Hon has to punch the gas a little. Of course I was tingly with excitement. This is what I live for! My son, was a little surprised and so he lets out a holler.

"Are you sure this is camping!"

We laughed and laughed and laughed. It was the perfect weekend get away. I had not been that dirty in a while. I ruined two pairs of jeans and it took considerable effort to scrub myself clean. We were all happy-tiredn and ready for our humble abode when it was over.

It is a new weekend and my urge to wander off the beaten path is sated. This morning, it was such a blessing to wake up without any where to go, or thing to do. I cooked more than a pound of bacon and over-watered my flower beds.

A couple of weekends ago, the boys and I designated some ground that will be a flower bed, next year. After we set it up Clayton was digging in a drawer and hoarded off some corn and watermelon seeds I had never planted. He planted them in this designated ground, and was very pleased with himself.

It hasn't been watered. But, this morning while inspecting the flower bed he found a single blade of grass. He was excited, I could see, and while I watered the flowers he was busy at work in this flower bed.

After a while I asked him what he was doing.

"I make a fence!"

This is the same little boy who is going to "dive a tactor, a green un, when I gow up."

I laughed and laughed and laughed. Leave it to my child to build a fence around a single blade of grass to protect it from those who might tromple or eat it....

These wild Nevadans in training never cease to amaze me. I hope you have a happy Friday.

Loves,

HjB

On baking wild cake

Life has been a blur. Just like this picture. The earth is in the sky, and who knows where or when the particles will settle. The wind is, if anything, persistent. So here we are, wild as Wednesday. And it comes once a week. You know, it gives me a star to which to aim at.

So life is a blur and time marchy march. I am hectic and nuts. Life hands me wild moments all the day through. I bull doze through like this:

The most wild thing to happen to me this week is my wee Wild-Nevadan-in-Training has turned five. This was like graduation for me.

I remember those first days and months when I handled him so carefully. I remember when rogue germs terrified my every being. And, when I was driven to pack something into every single pocket of the diaper bag, no matter how short the errand.

Five years later my heart swells. It was a major accomplishement.

But, as you know, things went wild:

The fifth birthday came with the responsibility of baking a birthday cake and 25 cupcakes... Baking being outside my realm of talents, I bulldozed into the project with good intentions. I was pretending confidence, but worry sprinkles were floating in the air. Even in the begining it seemed a recipe for disaster.

Somehow I made it through the entire baking process without a mishap. And, the cupcakes turned out pretty good even after I frosted them.

While the cake was cooling and while the boys bathed I went to check on it and found the crust layer of the top partially gone.

Hm. It looked like somebody stuck a lid to the top of the cake and pulled it off and some of the warm cake stuck. It also looked like maybe the cat had come along and skimmed off a layer. About 1/3 of the surface area had been comprimised.
At this point, I have baked three boxes of cupcakes (with filling) and frosted 25 cupcakes and baked one cake, and I am not in the mood for any more of it. After I think about it for a while I decide I will just frost the living crap out of the birthday cake and pretend nothing happened. This is when, aparently, my Karma starts rolling.

So I frost and sparsely decorate the cake before anyone sees it; and because cake decorating is also outside my realm of talents I keep it simple. With little candies it says "5." Big woopie. And, as I finish it up I feel a little guilty about this little cover up I now have going. Well, then some motherly activity calls my attention away, and again I leave the cake unsupervised and uncovered on the counter.

Brilliance. These are the moments that make me feel proud I kept my son alive for five years and I deserve some kind of graduation recognition...but I digress.

Maybe 15 minutes later I remember the cake, and rush to the kitchen to find the cat in the actual act of  licking the frosting off the cake. Seriously?

I tuck that cake in the cold oven to protect it from the cat and kids while I am at work. I am trying to figure out what to do. So, I say nothing to the rest of the family. I mean, hell, if it is the same cat and the same kitty germs I already frosted then what is it going to hurt if the cat added a few more?

Sadly, that is not even the end of my Wild Wednesday story. When my Hon gives me a ride at lunch-time that day, he says he has run into trouble with the birthday cake. He tells me that he pre-heated the oven for a pizza. And, the rolling smoke alerted him to an almost-disaster. There is terror in my eyes.

"It's not too bad." he tells me.

When I get home I find the frosting is melted down into the sides of the cake dish. The five I was so careful with, now looks like a five in one of those Internet password protection prompts. It is smushy.

Now, this is where most mothers would dump the cake that cannot go right, and go down to the store and see if they can find a replacement cake for their five-year-old son. On that particular day I was a bit too busy. I was trying to catch the dust particles loose in the atmosphere. Mostly the ones that came with the birthday. The bubbles and water guns. And, there were no less than four water guns!

You probably already know what Heathen Heidi did with that cake. But, in my defense let me say maybe it was because they acted as if they could not hear me when I tried to herd their squirting bubble party to the out of doors? Or maybe it was because they did not say anything about the smelty cake, and I was too tired from catching dust particles to consider plan B.

Yes. I did it. I let them eat a piece of the kitty germified, smelty cake, after a hearty birthday song. Just like there was nothing wrong. Ha! So you also may have guessed there is just no birthday cake pictures this year!

Bad mom? Well, lets just say while time marchy marchy and my son grew from defensless infant to a sturdy five-year-old Wild-Nevadan-in-Training, this mom has evolved too. Into what I am not always sure. But, wild is Wednesday. Happy Hump Day.

Loves,
HjB

Hagar the Horrible. It's a Vikings' life.

I love it here. My job is good. My home is comfy, cozy, coffee by the fireplace kind of warm. There has not been a whole lot of time to enjoy it. I mentioned before that one side of my Americanized mutt family is of Italian decent. The other half of ancestry is heavily Scandinavian.

So, setting forth on the sea of sagebrush with a whole new life on the horizon was pretty damn exciting for the Viking inside me. When it comes to that kind of adventure, I stick my iron helmet on, and stick out my sword and make sail. No matter the outcome I am not scared. I am along for the ride. I always have been.

The only thing that trumps my natural inclination to go with the flow is my claim to Captain of this Pirate Ship. And to that claim, I am not a natural. I hang on to it--for dear life.

The Captain's responsibilities are great and the stress of this last bit of life, (ahem, adventure) on the rest of the family, is not lost on me. And there did come one of those lost in space moments when I realized I had to throw anchor on my own adventure, so to speak, and make focus. Ah, ha. Just because I am not scared does not mean the same for all of us in the boat.

Hell, I know in the long run I will be more free to enjoy the adventure, if I do the work first.  

True. There has been plenty of rewards in this work. It was irony when my almost3 year old son  found a Hagar the  Horrible comic book and would not loose sight of it for two days. I might not have noticed that before.

Still, all that work makes a person thirsty for fun. Today, that "viking blood" inside me was restless. It is like a tickle in the back of the throat. I am overdue for a sunny day with my camera and a dirt road. When I am trying to stay on the focus-wagon I try to drive away the tickle with whatever is handy. After I vacuumed for a few minutes I decided to just take the boys out for a little desert walk. It is but a short distance to get off the pavement from our house.

And little fresh air never hurt anyone. Right? So, camera in hand, we were on our way. We were not even out of the driveway before the complaining started.

After we traveled a football field's length away from the house and off the pavement the complaining escalated to crying. From one child or the other, and sometimes both. Suddenly the dog is deaf and is doing whatever he wants to. The cat is poking along behind us, terrified.

One wants to go this way. The other wants to go another.
They say "My feet are tired."
"Carry me."
"I want to go home."

It was not as satisfing as I had imagined it would be...

When we got home I dug out the last piece of candy from Halloween and broke it in half for them to share. I had thought it a great way to end the crying. Just so you know, an almost three year old Hagar whose legs hurt, does not appreciate the breaking of candy. And so the crying went on for some time. Even the iron viking helmet of mine could not block it out.

I did what I could do as Captain of this Pirate ship. I took two DayQuil capsules with a Monster Energy Drink as a back. I am pre-heating the oven so we can bake cupcakes after lunch. It is the weekend and I will "heel" to them, this time, so I can earn my turn. Ahem. Today the Captain knows she just has to be along for the ride.

So if it is not home, work or kids I am (possibly) not ready for more yet. I guess WildNevadaGirl has to keep my butt on the focus-wagon. You know, the focus-wagon: it carries priorities and is pulled by faith. Faith that a little sacrifice and determination will reap rewards... Well, I better get back to it. Perhaps I will take a picture for next time.
Loves,
HjB