The Bakery and Handmade Shoes

There is something about shopping for shoes that is just simply put… wonderful.  I enjoy it as much as I enjoy my other favorite past time….. going to the bakery.

Who doesn’t love the smell of a brand new pair of leather boots?  But then compare… oh the smells of a bakery.  Fresh baked bread?  Warm cakes and pies?  Both smells ignite pleasure.

A walk through a shoe department with boots, pumps, flats, and clogs… carefully displayed by designer upon blocks and shelves is comparable to gazing through the glass case in a bakery to see croissants, cakes, tarts, and pastries.  Each item carefully arranged on cookie sheets side by side.  Both kindle the “ooooohs” and “aaaaahs”.

And when you absolutely know you found the perfect shoe when it slips on your feet and you see it in the little mirror on the floor.  It’s perfect.  Your foot looks so tiny.  They will be the perfect touch on your outfit.  And when you choose the item you crave, the taste is heavenly, and melts in your mouth.  With a cold glass of milk and the moment is perfect. 

There is no comparison between a fresh homemade, handmade baked good and a mass produced packaged treat.  Handmade is profoundly better.   So it stands to reason that a handmade shoe would be equally superior to its mass produced, assembly line, competition.  To be honest, I’ve never had a handmade pair of shoes, but with my bakery reasoning, I know they have got to be fantastic.

You might say the added expense of a handmade pair of shoes is extreme.  I can only say… have you ever had a $50 piece of cheesecake in NYC.  It is to die for.  And the pleasure of this lasts only ½ hour.  Of course you do have the sweet memory.  But a pair of handmade shoes you would enjoy the pleasure of every hour of every day.  Priceless.

I am participating in a blogger campaign by Bucks2Blog and was
compensated. However, the views and opinions are my own.

A Few Mistakes

At the age of 47 I decided to start my own business.  I had an idea.  Everybody loved it.  I applied for a Platinum Visa card with a $10,000 limit.  I figured this would be enough to get my idea off the ground.

I If I dedicated my blog to just the mistakes I made, I would never want for writing material. 

Mistake #1.  I ordered all of the product before it was sold.  I did take a random sampling of what were the favorites, so I didn’t go in completely blind.  But I found out soon enough that loving something and actually wearing it are two very different things.

Mistake #2.  Not fully understanding “profit margin”.  I thought it was a simple as selling for more than you bought it.  I got the profit part.  It was the margin that I didn’t understand.

Mistake #3.  Donating to a worthwhile cause is wonderful, but it is better to do this after you become profitable.  I committed to donate $2 per item sold and did this regardless of whether we were making money or not.

Mistake #4.  Giving stuff away is great for PR, and it sure does feel good, but you can give too much away.

Mistake #5.  Failing to attend Business School.  It would have been helpful beyond measure.

I can say that I have learned.  I have now entrusted the business to someone who just finished his MBA.

It’s like a fresh start!  And I’m feeling good!

I am participating in a blogger campaign by Bucks2Blog and was
compensated. However, the views and opinions are my own.

A Dedicated Server - Just Like Shopping!

I work on a dedicated server all day long.  I have heard the words “dedicated server” or “the server” for years, but it wasn’t until today that I put much thought in it.  I do know a few things.

When I am on the server, I can work much faster.  Every click is faster and it keeps up with my typing.  I’m not the fastest typist, but it is very bothersome when I am typing and the computer can’t keep up.  I tend to forget where I’m at when this happens.

I know that we are extremely secure.  I have had my email hacked on my home computer, but never my work email which is on the server.  There’s really not much top secret info, if any, but we are secure.  I’m not saying my company is invincible but when something does happen, the tech crew is all over it.  Which brings me to another favorite thing about the dedicated server.

I love love love being able to call our tech crew for virtually any computer problem.  They are fabulous!  When someone utters the words “server’s down”, we just make a call and we’re good.  And when I call… I get the actual person, a rarity these days.

Basically, I look at a dedicated server like shopping at a store that is open just for me.  All of the merchandise, all of the employees, are there just for me.  Nothing will slow me down, because no one else is in the store to get in my way.  I have access to everything and can get my shopping, or work, done in no time!

This post was sponsored by Bucks2Blog for a dedicated server company.
However, the views and opinions are my own.

Worse Than A Woman Gone Shopping

“Worse than a woman gone shopping.”  This is one of my Dad’s great expressions.  Obviously making fun of the way the women in his life can not seem to focus on the task at hand.  If we tell him we are shopping for shoes, well by golly, we better just enter the mall and walk directly to shoes.

I’m not sure why he qualifies this expression for women when he has never gone to the grocery store and actually brought home the item my Mom asked him to get.

Which brings me to my search for a simple, long sleeve, black cardigan.  You would think this a relatively easy task when the mall is virtually packed with women’s sweaters.  Styles come and go… sometimes I like the style and sometimes I can do without.  Well, cardigans are in style baby!  Seriously, there are sweaters everywhere. 

My first run at finding the black cardigan and I brought home the most perfect red purse you’ve ever seen!  The second outing and I found earrings that will be perfect for my daughter’s wedding.  By the third try I brought home a cardigan!  Sure, it was a leopard print with funky zipper up the front, but it was in the category.  Yesterday, I still didn’t find the sweater, but the box of See’s I bought was fabulous!

Yeah, yeah, my Dad’s right.  “Worse than a woman gone shopping.”  And I love it!

I am participating in a blogger campaign by Bucks2Blog and was
compensated. However, the views and opinions are my own.

Bad Ass?

My daughter was in high school when a routine dental exam revealed that her two top and four bottom front teeth needed root canals.  Weird right?  We could not figure what was going on?  They check again, and then the dentist said, “Was she ever hit in the mouth while growing up?”

This daughter, took to sports immediately.  She had more competitiveness in her blood than really was healthy.  In elementary school, when they would have the kids form two lines, for a relay race of sorts, she would purposely position herself so she would get to race a boy.  She took great pleasure in being faster than a boy, and she was faster… a lot.  I admit after all these years, I took a little pride in it too.  She was great at sports and so it began.  The thing I didn’t love was when she got hurt.  She was tough, but it is just different when your little girl gets hurt than when it’s your son.  I know.  I know.  Sterotype…  boys are rough and tough.  A scar or knocked out tooth is cool and manly.  I remember when my son got a bloody nose in a soccer game while playing goalie and the blood was all over him.  He said, and I quote, “Mom.  Don’t wash the blood out of my uniform.  It makes me look like a bad ass goalie.”  He was like 8 or 10 years old?  Who says that?

My daughter had just gotten a full set of braces and was a little sore.  Like I said, she was tough.  A little ibuprofen and she was good to go.  Despite her weighing maybe 60 pounds, she attacked the soccer ball like she was 6 foot and weighed 185!  She was a forward and was running full speed for the ball, and a defender kicked it with all their might.  One of those kicks where you are hoping to send it all the way down to the other end of the field.  Unfortunately, it really didn’t go far.  My daughter’s mouth stopped it.  Stopped it hard.  She went down.  When I got to her I could see we had a problem.  She was crying, but her mouth wasn’t moving.  Her lips were smashed onto the braces top and bottom.  As I peeled them loose, her lips were like hamburger, and she bled profusely.  She went back in as soon as we could rinse her mouth of all the blood.

“Yes Mr. Dentist, now that I remember, she did get hit in the mouth.”  Thank goodness for the progress of dentistry today.  I ask my daughter, “Would you like to have veneers and white fillings?  Or would you rather be a bad ass soccer forward?”

I am participating in a blogger campaign by Bucks2Blog for Cosmetic Dentist NYC and was
compensated. However, the views and opinions are my own.

A House Full of Memories

Our home has always been crazy, chaotic and crowded… and I wouldn’t have it any other way.  I had seven kids in ten years so you do the math.  I wanted my kids to be close.  And with a 1200 square foot house, we were close!  I loved how our house was never large enough for the kids to have their own rooms.  How we all piled on top of each other in the love sac to watch TV.  We lived together… and it was wonderful.

One by one, they left for college.  Then one by one, they got married.  All the events that you dream and wish for them.  So really, nothing is wrong, and I wouldn’t change a thing, but my crowded little house is not so full.  My home is down to youngest and I, but still full of memories.

Of course, there is the kitchen wall where we have marked the kid’s heights.  It is a monument of memories.  We have one or maybe two marks for the oldest daughter who we call the runt of the family.  And then there is the continual reminder that the younger brother is taller than the older brother.  We have the grandkids on the wall now, and there’s even a mark for our pug.  If I sell the house, can I take that wall?

And what about how the kids would tie sheets onto the monkey bars in the backyard so they could hang in them like a hammock?  Or the time the kids threw a party, and the cops came to the door to tell us we had too many people on the property.  Is that a rule?  I remember the boy’s bedroom was in the family room, complete with bunk beds and how they would play football and soccer down there.   One day they had rearranged and put the bookcase at the end of the hall.  It’s strange for little boys to be concerned with a home’s décor.  But after all these years, the bookcase has stayed in this chosen spot. 

I will have to move one day, although I want a place where the kids will always come home, I can’t take care of a house and yard.  In my eyes the house would sell in a day, if people only knew what I knew.  And if I do move, I will have to move that bookcase.  I wonder if whoever buys the house will love that hole in the wall as much as I do?

i participated in a campaign for Bucks2Blog for missouri real estate and was compensated.  However, the views and opinions are my own.

The Styrofoam Box

I have never been a true fan of meat.  I maybe eat it two or three times a week at the most.  Meat just doesn’t do the same for me as a piece of warm, fresh baked bread, or the sweet taste of warm chocolate chip cookies with a glass of ice cold milk.  And ice cream!  Aaah… ice cream, with its cool, creamy texture and amazing flavors.   And then there’s candy.  I can have a craving for a piece of candy where someone is going to get hurt if I don’t get a piece in my mouth at that moment.  But with meat… never has there been this longing.  But then there was this one Christmas.

Who doesn’t love Christmas?  I love being home and baking holiday treats, taking in all the Christmas decorations, listening to Christmas music, watching Christmas Story, and… listening for the UPS truck!  That quick knock, knock, knock and you run to open the door, and there it is… a package!  Well, last year, I quickly responded to the knock, knock, knock only to find a large styrofoam package.  Weird right?  I looked at the return address and it was from a meat company!  OK, so who buys there meat online?  First of all I was always taught that you carefully take care of your meat or you’ll get a disease!  Someone shipped us meat?  Who knows where it’s been?  It could have been baking in the desert for all I know!  I mean really, who knows where this package has been and where it has been sitting?  Second, my Grandpa was a butcher and he taught me how to pick out meat and it was a careful, tedious task.  I mean he picked out meat more carefully than most people pick out their future spouse!  So, who picked out this meat?  Were they qualified?

I was wrong… so wrong.  Let me just say, I now know that I had never really tasted meat.  That styrofoam box contained real meat.  Meat that melted in my mouth like fondant candy.  Savory, tasty meat that I wanted… and now crave. 

Oh I hope I see that styrofoam box on my porch again.

I participated in a campaign for Bucks2Blog.  However, the views and opinions are my own.