The STUFF Sisters

Where Does The Time Go?

I planned to write a blog today. I really did.

Is it really 10:23pm already? Where does the time go?

This is not how I spent my day. I swear.

In Constant Search of Authenticity & A Meal I Will Never Forget

I like my world with a bit of grit. If I spend more than a couple hours in a location that is sterile, homogenized or commercialized I start to get depressed. I begin to pace like a caged animal.

I like my world with a bit of grit. If I spend more than a couple hours in a location that is sterile, homogenized or commercialized I start to get depressed. I begin to pace like a caged animal. I get short and snappy with others. I start to worry that the world is in serious trouble. And, I have to stifle my urge to scream.

I don’t understand the appeal of chain stores, themed restaurants or branded theme parks. I went on a cruise once and seriously considered jumping ship more than once. I just wanted to feel the water. Looking at it from five stories up was pure torture. I was desperate to feel the cold water. To taste the salt. To be pulled by the waves.

I have a burning desire to travel before the cultures of the world are “walmarted” and “targeted” to death.

What will the world look like if all the small authentic businesses and communities disappear? You can’t rebuild, recreate or paint on a patina that will ever replace an original. It falls flat.

When I find authentic locales. I get excited. I don’t want to own something or eat something that is one of the millions manufactured. I want to own a one-in-a-million piece of art or eat a meal that can’t be found anywhere else.

I crave authenticity.

Which is why I will never forget the first time I ate at Le Maire’s in Sedalia, Missouri.

It wasn’t the original location, but it was original in every other way.

The fried clams were made as a starter just for us.

The place was spotless. We did share the place with 5 other tables. But, I didn’t take photos of the people because I “outed” myself as a crazy out-of-towner with my photo taking and it seemed rude.

The catfish dinner is the menu “must have”. My daughter insisted on ordering the adult sized platter and put away all six pieces of fish. Please note there is no oily residue on the plate.

The painted walls and murals created a festive Cajun mood.

There is a little grotto at the entrance honoring the founders, Joe and Frenchie Le Maire.

My daughter recommends the Gumball Coaster near the checkout counter for entertainment while you wait for your fresh fried catfish.

My Mother suggested the stop. She had known about it for many years. I threatened to never speak to her again for keeping it a secret this long, but my anger slipped away during the fried clam starter. The happiness I felt at discovering this truly authentic eatery made me giddy.

Most Important Job

There are work days that are so cut up – with meetings, events, and activities – that at the end of the day I look back in wonder. Wonder at what actually got done and what was left to be tackled later. Yesterday was one of those days for me and my rich, full life. And the most important job I had yesterday was in a rainforest.

Yesterday was one of those days for me and my rich, full life.

Over an hour clearing my e-mail accounts while the sun tried to rise. A meeting with an artist who is fearlessly taking his work to the “big time” at a New York trade show started my day at STUFF. An hour at my desk on details that can overwhelm if left too long in one spot. A trip to a local charity for check signing and a quick meeting. A powwow with another charity about fundraising at their annual luncheon. Another hour at my desk and an hour on the floor with customers. Two hours at a networking and food-tasting event. A ride home on the urban interstate while the sun sets, with a sister who challenges me and is a creative force to be reckoned with.

However, the most important job I had yesterday was in a rainforest. During the heat of noon time. Deep in the heart of midtown with a tour director that knew so much it was overwhelming, as was the crowd. Traveling up the Amazon with a small voice as your guide is the way to go. A third grader who knew not only about the “animal” she made for the project but who knew about the 40 others. I did not travel alone and was smart enough to know this was a trip the whole family would enjoy.

Like most nature vacations, this one was suited to your traveling pleasures. If you like to learn more data and see graphs, charts, reports and videos, she had that on hand. If viewing art that replicates the local flora and fauna turns you on, she had that too. If poetry and the spoken word are your thing, she provided that as well.

My son, who will be 17 next week, attended the same school as my niece, who led me up her Amazon yesterday. Her rainforest adventure immersed her – and her mother! – in the wonders of the piranha, while my family had absorbed all there was to know about leafcutter ants eight years ago. Ants that still hang in our play room at home.

Yesterday I was a rainforest visitor. I was tagged as a traveler before my trip began, a name tag I didn’t keep but should have worn all day and to every meeting. A personal reminder that the most important job I have is listening carefully and absorbing all the wonders while traveling in the deepest, darkest, and most formidable places…which can be my desk, a conference room, or the interior of my own mind.

p.s. The following photos are a reminder that the scariest creatures in the rainforest are the humans….

rainforest 11 — … my sister, mom and husband …

rainforest 7 — … my niece and my friend …

Grown *ss Man

Lately my son has been telling me, “Woman, I am a grown ass man, and I don’t need you tellin’ me what to do!” He even kicks in with a little bit of a drawl delivering it.

Him, as he walks into my room: “Mom, it’s time to play your favorite game.”

Me: “Which one is that?”

Him: “Help Dakota find socks that match all of this,” as he points to his outfit for the dance.

Of course I played.

I posted that snapshot of life with my son to my Facebook page a few days ago. It accompanied this picture:

That is my son. With his date to the WPA (Women Pay All) Dance. No matter the age, when they are kids they look grown up the minute they put on a sport coat. Or, in the case of her parents, I’m guessing it’s the high heels.

Lately he’s been telling me, “Woman, I am a grown ass man, and I don’t need you tellin’ me what to do!” He even kicks in with a little bit of a drawl delivering it.

This kid lays me out with his solid, quiet humor. So much bluffing about being grown up and blustering about being able to do it himself. I’ve been hearing this since he was three – what he doesn’t need from me and what he can do himself.

Until it comes down to socks.

Cousins & Hairdos

I do not envy my son the following things: youth, thick hair, brainpower, speed, agility. Or even his dry, quiet humor. I do, however, envy him his cousins.

I do not envy my son the following things: youth, thick hair, brainpower, speed, agility. Or even his dry, quiet humor.

I do, however, envy him his cousins. He has more than a full house of amazing people to live his life with. Two in Chicago, one three blocks from home, and three more in our town. My cousins were not the best. Maybe this was because we were too close in age, we lived too far apart, one of them stole from me, or we spent so little time together that we had little in common.

This past weekend, we traveled to Chicago to begin the process of looking at colleges and universities for our son, a junior in high school. The highlight of the weekend was not the campus tour, the great road trip, or the fantastic food. It was watching my son get his hair done by his cousin, Emily – an untrained but enthusiastic twelve year old.

hair beginning — The beginning. The basket is chock-full of doodads,

She of the “super-thick Asian hair” was stunned by how thick his was. Within minutes of greeting him for the first time this weekend, she said, “Tonight I want to do your hair.” Dakota, my son, was pretty much not in full favor, but he played along for the rest of the day, during the walk to dinner – where he was the vehicle – and all through the dinner at a local restaurant while my niece regaled him with the instruments, gels, cremes, clips and equipment she planned to put to use. He playfully hemmed and hawed and told her to pretty much forget it.

She didn’t. When we all got home from dinner, she raced to retrieve all her implements and, clamoring back down the stairs, proceeded to get Dakota to sit up straight in the chair so she could begin.

He gave up and gave in. Before it was all done, they were both laughing and shooting selfies.

I have spent a few days looking at these pictures and digesting the smiles and smirks. These guys love each other and have a trust between them I will never know.

I do not envy him much. Not his cool demeanor, his calm personality, or even his temperament. Those I pretty much adore.

cousins totem — Cousin Totem Pole: She rode on his shoulders to dinner. I figure she was planning her attack on his hair from that vantage point.

When I’m Done, I Share

My Dad really doesn’t like the sound of Garrison Keillor’s voice. I guess it’s pretty much like me being scared out of my wits by Christopher Walken’s voice. Heck, the whole Christopher Walken, really.

This weekend I finished my National Geographic magazine. There is really only one way to read the magazine, and it goes like this:

1. Rip open the plastic bag it arrives in and think briefly about how much you miss the brown paper sleeve it used to come in.

2. Immediately find your son and give him the Geo Quiz on the mailing label. Watch his face as he nails answer after answer correctly.

3. Go through the magazine. Read the editor’s letter. Read the short articles in the front. Read all the captions on all the photos and maps.

4. Fold down the corners on the articles you plan to go back and read after perusing the entire magazine.

5. Go back and choose which articles to read in which order. It does not have to be in the order they appear in the magazine. Choose carefully the story you want to end with.

6. When finished, copy pages you want to keep for files and ideas.

7. Hand over the magazine to your son. Remind him of the really good articles that he should consider truly reading, knowing full well he only really participates or accomplishes steps two and three.

15-lake-calhoun-summer-evening-670 — Lake Calhoun and “the cities” in the distance. Credit: National Geographic magazine.

The last article I read today was a piece Garrison Keillor wrote about his personal geography of his beloved Minneapolis-St. Paul. I enjoy listening to him on A Prairie Home Companion – a treat I love sharing with my son and husband – and I’ve read many of his books. His style of memoir is very enjoyable. And, during every show and every book, I think of one thing I want to tell my Dad about.

Today was no different. The last five sentences of his article were absolute magic. I immediately wanted to call my Dad and read them to him.

I believe my Dad likes hearing these stories and things from me. Maybe because he hears a voice he loves, not Mr. Keillor’s.

p.s. I have been receiving National Geographic magazine since my grandmother gave me my first subscription when I had my first apartment. It was a Christmas present I received until the year she died. Purchasing it for myself has been a yearly reminder of how much I was loved. Still am, really.

Around The World

My friend went to Africa and I got these photos. Works for me. No jet lag.

I remember as a child going to friends’ houses – and one teacher’s house – to look at photos of trips taken to far away places. Sitting on the sofa, the carpet or a chair I was always enthralled with their stories, memories and images. These were usually very casual affairs planned at the spur of the moment. There were never too many images for me to take in. I remember going to the home of a friend of my great aunt Eunice to watch their slide show of a recent trip to Europe. The husband had served in World War II and although he did not want to show his wife the Europe he had seen, he had been keen to go back and see Europe with her. The photos were so vibrant and bold. I still love slides for their crispness,

I have enjoyed the immediacy of Facebook and the photo albums people post. When my friend posted these photos, it’s possible she was still standing in the Senegalese surf.

That said, I miss the slide shows and the impromptu photo get-togethers of my past. It is a goal of mine this year to make my Dad pull out my grandmother’s slide reels for a “memory making” night with his children and grandchildren. My sisters and I made our grandmother show them to us at least once a year when we visited. She stored these treasures in the cabinets hidden in the side tables in her living room. I knew at a young age that they must be important if they weren’t relegated to the attic or basement. I can’t wait for my Dad’s stories to mingle with the stories she told.

If you’re looking for me that night, I’ll be the little girl sitting on the itchy wool carpet soaking it all in. And I’ll bet my toe-headed blonde sister will be by my side with wide eyes and open ears.

p.s. My friend, Brenda, is allowing me to post these to Pinterest. You will find them there, and the only trouble for me will be which board to tack them to. I doubt I stop at just one.

Friendships That Bloom

There has not really been one part of growing older that has been bad for me. What I have liked the most is building friendships with people older than me. These friendships bloom after time has passed, if you’re lucky.

There has not really been one part of growing older that has been bad for me. I am still waiting for the grey hair because I’ve dreamed of it for years. I firmly believe that my monthly facials will soften the deep skin lines, all of which I have earned with a life well lived.

What I have liked the most is building friendships with people older than me. People I first knew because they were parents of high school friends. Teachers I had throughout school who now school me on the really important things. These friendships bloom after time has passed, if you’re lucky.

One such woman recently regaled me with her knowledge of plants – she owned a landscaping company for years – when she caught me day dreaming at the potted cyclamen in the grocery store. After the long New Years hugs we exchanged, she asked if I was considering the plant.

Geranium in my kitchen, not a cyclamen at the store.

She is a reader of my blogs and knows that I am not particularly good with indoor plants. She has a faith in my green thumb that I do not harbor. I told her I really was mostly intrigued and in love with the color of the blooms. I think I might have mentioned that I would only kill it. “No you won’t. These plants can take a lot.”

I then took a moment to tell her about the orchid I recently received from my husband who was assured that “orchids are easy and you can’t really harm them” by the florist. Within two weeks, it was holding brown, crunchy blooms and now lives at my mother’s house.

My friend listened with her ears and then smiled with her eyes before saying, “Orchids are hard.”

Totally made my day, and she garnered another hug with that comment.

Sentimental me took her comment to mean a bit more. Later that day, I moved kitchen furniture around to allow the geraniums more southern light. They are the only plants that I bring inside…and only because of the color of their blooms. Well, that and their willingness to not give up on me and my green thumb. Sounds like a friend of mine.

p.s. I wrote previously about these amazing geraniums. Right here. I’ve also spent time thinking about plants and possible interventions. Here’s more.

I Survived My First Christmas at STUFF

This season has been challenging. We entered the holiday season with the least experienced staff in many, many years.The new people we introduced into our ranks have proven themselves to be resilient, thoughtful, and hard-working.

This season has been challenging. We entered the holiday season with the least experienced staff in many, many years. After 17 years in business, we had become accustomed to having a handful of senior staff members in our ranks to help rock the season with us side-by-side. But this year the stars simply did not align. We found ourselves training an almost entirely new crew in the few months leading up to our biggest and most demanding season.

Yes, we had a couple of seasoned veterans, but these are team members that work very limited hours. So really the team was being built almost from scratch. At the start, we often resembled the movie Bad News Bears. Everyone had a heart of gold, but we were in serious need of finding our groove. And our leadership – us – well, we weren’t drunk like Walter Matthau was in the movie, but we were spread thin and overcommitted on too many projects.

It was a rough start.

There was frustration. There were tears from some. There were times we doubted we would make it through the season. But, at last, we have.

We are deeply thankful that the stars did finally align. These last two weeks have been joyful for us behind the counter, and we hope it has been joyful for you in the store. Our store is really about people – not product – and the new people we introduced into our ranks have proven themselves to be resilient, thoughtful, and hard-working.

The next time you visit our store, please congratulate our newest team members. We should have bought them cheesy T-shirts that read “I Survived My First Christmas at STUFF”. But they are too angelic for that….

Plastic Redux

This time of year, I drink a huge amount of water through a straw. Water is what wards off the evil spirits, in my view.

This time of year, I drink a huge amount of water through a straw. I seem to consume more that way. This collection on my dressing room table this morning reminded me that life is long, fun and wonderful, but not particularly tidy. We work monstrous hours at work that are thrilling and full of joy. Water is what wards off the evil spirits, in my view.

And today it was evident that life has been full of water in re-usable cups, with a side of Lysol from the big can!

p.s. One of these cups may very well be from this past summer. Read more here.