Accelerant

I have a lot of friends with kids. Sibs with kids, too. Only here's the thing: Peter and I were pretty much the first among us to have a child. So I feel compelled to share with you all that I am currently in the throes of what feels like a solar wind (you know, that phenom of waves that engulf the Earth and cause Northern lights?) Like, a momentary swirl of energy that seems to be changing everything. And in my case, accelerating it.

I have a son who is taller than me. He's grown 6 inches in 6 months, blink and you'll miss it. I just flipped through a bunch of photos I had posted on Facebook, and in none of them is he taller than me (or his older sister, for that matter). Suddenly, now: young man. Will shares a bunk bed with the thankfully-still-small Des, and when I go in to check on Des before I go to bed...there's this hulking guy whose feet don't fit in the lower bunk! Ack! Oh. Right.

Then there's this college business. I know, I wrote about this before. I've written a lot about Zoe this year. But from the slow, tortuous agony of getting applications in and visiting campuses and whatnot, I find myself the mom of a young woman ready to go to the next stage. She's not chomping at the bit, nor is she packing yet (she's my daughter, after all). But I tell you she is ready. Composed, whole, and so prepared to immerse herself in art-making and learning. This summer, she's juggling two jobs. In light of my own work-juggling life, this means we are the proverbial passing ships. I'm shaking my head because, again, it's as though a wand had been waved. Swoosh! Presto-chango.

And about those two youngers who are perpetually called youngers? Lydia is getting astonishingly tall and self-confident. She is comfortable with herself. I find myself wondering now whether that is the quality that sent all of her care providers into a she-needs-to-be-tested mode. She's just not like any of her peers. Never was, never will be. And as she ages, she inhabits that knowledge beautifully. There's awkwardness about her, don't get me wrong. But I am filled with pride at her emergence.

Desmond is still my "huggy!" guy. Unlike the others, his growth spurts have been modest (although size 6 pants are waaay in the past now). When he hugs me, he's still at my waist. His tangle of curls is right at the level of my hand to tousle it. He loves it when I do that. Still, stay tuned. The potential energy in him is vast. :)

I am changing, too. (That's the understatement of the year.) It roils me and thrills me. But as with the Northern lights, my bursts of color and creating feel as though they are out of my direct control...they're happening because they must. Also, to complete the family-unit analysis, none of my life changes can occur without the complaint-free adaptations of Peter. He is demonstrating grace and quiet support that I have seen many, many times: with my grandfather; in the labor room; during Mom's illness (and before it became obvious); pretty much every day, dealing with an absorbed, spacey, enthusiastic, broody wife. Peter = rock. I learned that in CCD, and it's still the truth.

Inspiration station

So far I've thought of a few clever catchphrases to launch this entry. I will share them in the aggregate, because I don't think any single one is clever enough to carry the weight:

I started a store, that started the whole world...shopping....
When the going gets tough, the tough open a store.
Nessa Reifsnyder: writer, editor...business owner.

Perhaps that last one is the best summation of what I'm trying to say here. With a business partner named Erin whose enthusiasm is, paradoxically, calming; and a collection of ideas that are designed to spark creativity in others (and in us); I have been incredibly fortunate enough to become a small-business owner.

Presenting...our logo:

Supplies, kits, workshops, ideas, digital printing, genealogy/heritage projects, support, inspiration: that's our business plan in a nutshell.

I think it's safe to say that I've never felt the mix of emotions that are brewed by this entreprenurial activity. I'm composed and serene, while also roiling with concern and anticipation. I'm ready and, simultaneously, unprepared. My creativity is feeling colorfully and texturally stimulated, yet my left-brain is wide awake (with columns of numbers and tax-code laws dutifully lining up to be analyzed and tabulated).

Erin and I went on a buying trip last week (feels like last month, that's how crammed every day is right now!) On the Internet, I had found this fantastic resource for fabric and goodies in Paterson, NJ:

Needlecraft is a wholesaler with 77,000 bolts of fabric and a helpful, supportive staff presence in their warehouse. We spent a whole day there, selecting fabrics and notions, learning about many different lines and designers, and discussing the business with Sam, Paul, and Jen.

Paterson is also the city where my grandmother Hazel resided for a number of years until her death in 1966. So I was able to merge this buying trip with some much-needed genealogy...setting my heart right, so to speak.

At day's end, Erin and I had three cartloads of fabrics:

(Incidentally, we have toyed with calling the store Naivete. And our secret superhero identity: Chicks with Bungees.)

Yesterday the wealth of fabric arrived at our store space, representing our first influx of stock. Nothing else to say about that, except yay yay yay!

I called this post "Inspiration station" because our enterprise is located in a remodeled gas station (at left). I adore that incongruity...but maybe it's not so incongruous: a building that sits at the center of our village, which for decades served a deeply practical and unifying function, is now repurposed--yet still has the potential to unify and lead to tangible outcomes. Okay, so art/craftmaking is not always practical, but when you set about gathering materials into a new object--and that object was created using your memories, emotions, and skills that have been handed down over centuries...well, yeah. Not a gassed-up or repaired vehicle, but it might take you places anyway. And quilts can sure warm you up come January.