Crazy as a Loom

Sunday, December 2, 2012

In the now

This is the weekend of the Christmas in the Country tour, which I have participated in for the last 7 years, this would have been the 8th.  But when they were collecting the money for the advertising, a little voice in my head said, "Are you serious?"
So, much to everyone's surprise, I opted out.
Gulp.
It felt very strange.  But I did it anyway.



So fast forward to the actual weekend.  I made some cookies, L vacuumed, and we hung the flag out.
She was weaving rugs, I was weaving on my dish towels.  No pressure, no commitment.  We were just OPEN.  We did get out our funky sock garlands and hung them over the fireplace.

Friday, only one person stopped, and I was ok with that.

Yesterday, however, we got quite a few people and some decent sales.  But most of all, everyone that stopped was go glad to "see me on my feet".  Like I wouldn't be, right?
Whether they read my blog, or called the studio and L told them, or they just heard about it, they knew that I had brain surgery, and they were happy to see me still in operation, even if it is a little scaled back.
It was heartwarming.



But the best part of my day, and it may sound strange, was lunch.
L's best friend, J, had stopped by.  I had made some of my fave sweet potato lentil soup, which
you can find here over at Two Peas and Their Pod.
I make it every chance I get during the winter, because it is so filling, and easy and warming.
Anyhow, as we were sitting down to our soup, a customer was ready to check out her goods.
I said, "Would you like to have soup with us?"
She asked, "What kind of soup?"

Her name was Kate, and she sat down and had soup with us like we had known her forever.
It was just the most spontaneous, life affirming moment, and I can't explain it better.
Somehow, in this world of craziness and cruelty to children and animals, of greed and political warfare, something as simple as having a 'perfect' stranger to lunch, was grand.

I am crazy, I know.
It was just so much nicer to me, to have the studio open, to feel relaxed and ok with it, not to have any pressure to 'create' anything special at all.
And it was just fine.
And today, I am not open at all.  And that's fine.

It seems that I have  lost the ability to remember things that I swear I will remember.  Names in particular.
We are starting out with a fresh notebook on the desk, so that everyone who calls, or pops in, gets jotted down in it, to make me feel less inadequate.
This is my "new normal".
There is more to come.  I just know it.

18 comments:

MrsB said...

:o)
Such an affirming post.
Thx
(we all worry with you)

Deb said...

I love spontaneous moments. I bet she'll be back again. Glad you are resting and I think with that you will enjoy this Christmas so much more. Thanks for your nice comment on Cali's passing. Means a lot. Hugs, Deb

Diane Cayton-Hakey said...

Soup is such a friendly thing. Took some to our neighbor last week who's husband was gone on a hunting trip. No one ever turns down soup, do they?

I need a pad to write things down too these days. {HUGZ}

Denise at Autumn Sky said...

Your voice sounds so upbeat and your spirit bright today:-)
I love the photo of the bottles in the window!!

Country Girl said...

I love hearing the hope in your voice today, Hilary. How interesting that the person who stopped by is named Kate because I've been thinking of you a lot. Oh, I just love this post! Off to check out that soup, too. I think it's probably magic soup.

Cindie Kitchin said...

It sounds like it was a perfect day!

Loomatic said...

You sound less stressed. Great to hear it and sounds like it was a great day.

I think this will be a great month for you :-)

Hilary said...

Yes, you're crazy.. in a very beautiful way. Hugs to you, my friend and namesake.

Anonymous said...

What a lovely post, and what a lovely, lovely moment, sharing soup with a stranger/customer. And to hear you relaxed, caring for your own needs, finding a way to mix that care with still having your studio open . . . Good things are happening, Hilary. I hope soon the headaches will only be a memory, so wish this for you.

Becky

Hartwood Roses said...

Your shop sounds like the most hospitable place!! "Would you like to have soup with us?" ... what a wonderfully welcoming thing to say.

claudia said...

I really like that spontaneous lunch invite. So...you!

Anonymous said...

This post gets a big "LIKE". It sounds like it was a good day for you and that is such welcome news.

Anonymous said...

sorry, last post by Deb fron Coble.

moosecraft said...

Soup soothes the soul! Thanks for the smiles this morning!

Karen said...

I love those spontaneous moments of connection we make with strangers... it happens alot at Dog Days and it is truly the most life affirming experience.

Now I am going to print out that recipe!

kelley said...

Always sorry to read that your recovery has so many bumps...your attitude is the BEST...

sounds like a great day at the shop...much better than the hustle and bustle...love the soup sharing...hugs

Daryl said...

dont blame the surgery for your forgetfulness ... i didnt have brain surgery and i forget names almost as soon as i am told them ...

Rita said...

Warm soup, a stranger, and conversation. Sounds heavenly. I am more forgetful from fibro and probably just getting older. Your notebook sounds like a great working plan. Just plain smart. :)

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