Retail Therapy?

In my sleepless state, I am reflecting back on my sleep deprived day and while I had fun going to Staples with Jill Cullen, I can't help but get my heart racing to think of the way that I would arrange Staples if I could. So, I will write them a letter.

Dear Staples,

I have an addiction...everything in your store excites me, but nothing excites me more than your back to school sale flier. I go through, drool a little, mark the items that I need/want carefully (mind you, I am not going back to school, I am just in love with fresh ink on clean crisp paper with just the right amount of "other" accessories to get me reorganizing my organizing) drive to the store on my lunch hour, only to get distressed by the following things:

1. It is hard to find anything. Logically, the items in the flier should be located in a central location so that my time can be spent quickly...in and out. While I understand your philosophy on creating an environment of spreading things all around the store so that I get attracted to stuff I don't "need" but have to buy anyway, you have to understand that I am needing to keep my time to my lunch. Quite frankly, if you ever go to the Staples and come out with just what is only on the "list", you have sent your husband or someone else with the list.




2. The help when you need it is limited. Have a few more people on hand or again refer to #1 and just organize your store better. 

3. I had a great experience at the checkout. Jason seemed friendly enough so I decide to take that extra step even after being annoyed about not being able to find anything, to acknowledge that we had a great experience with our check out guy. I ask where the cards are. He isn't sure. I ask what he gets if I send a card in about him (all good of course) and he doesn't seem to sure. I ask if he gets an extra break, an extra pin, a fresh water, determined to find out why it would be worth my while and his to fill it out and he said that he probably would just get a pat on the back. I politely, wanting to save time, suggest that I could just pat him and get it over with. He declined. Awkward moment passed. 
4. It would be really swell if someone would help out to the vehicles when your cart is heaping with purchases. Now, I had my friend, Jill, along and she was more than capable, but when you fill a cart, you might want a little help. Is it just me or do the people that buy the furniture only get the help?
5. And finally, if you are going to put that alluring new product in your flier (like the new colored scotch tape with the clear dispenser in our flier (see picture below-is it not ridiculously cute?!), please, I beg of you, let all of your stores carry it!!! How disappointing to know that the thing that got me through my morning at work (okay, that might be an exaggeration, but work with me) was not available to me at the store. Have you ever needed retail therapy?! Have you ever fell in love with something you must have only to be told it is not available at the store you are standing in? 

I love Staples. 

I want to press the "Easy Button" a bunch when in the store and feel disappointed when I can't. 

Sincerely, 

 

Addicted to cute accessories, paper, pens with a good wide flow, bags, flash drive covers, Martha Stewart accessories, pink 3 hole punches and Owl Notepads, Retail Therapy Seeking Consumer that would rather spend her lunch scanning the pen selection than eating. 

P.S. In skimming the ad for this, I realized I missed a great deal for these speakers. (I don't want to assume that this wasn't just consumer error, but if the flier items were easy to find, I might have come home with these: 

That Little Voice

There is that little voice…it spoke to me this morning, quite early. I am not able to sleep. It’s a common theme, but I don’t quit trying. Bill will make his way to work at anywhere between 4am and 5am Monday through Friday. I will lay awake and watch him go about his business getting ready for work. He gently kisses my forehead and whispers sweet things as he makes his way to work. In those moments when the bed just gets a little bit colder and emptier, I have the tendency to feel a bit sorry for myself. The silence surrounds me and teases me all at the same time. I want to nestle in and drift a bit with the glimmer of sleep tapping at my eyelids.

Today was not the same as every other morning. Today, there was that little voice inside my head that said, “Get up, right now”. It was a distinct moment where I clearly heard it and thought it strange that my “inside voice” was so loud. So, I listened.

I slide out of bed wondering what I would do until the moment the alarm went off. Clearly I couldn’t read a book. That little voice told me to get up. I busied myself with housekeeping items and waited until an appropriate time to shower without feeling guilty about making noise to wake up the kids (who am I kidding…they are teenagers and can sleep through the strongest of storms or at the very least my pleas for them to get up and get ready for school).

I got ready for work. Still ½ hour until the kids got up and I was at a loss. I could do more cleaning, I could fold laundry or I could listen to that little voice…the one that was eerily silent right now.

I decide to take the dog out and let her play in the yard. It is a brisk morning for May. I notice that there must have been a light shower during the overnight and that is when I saw it…the reason why I was meant to listen to that little voice. There it was, a beauty I would have missed-drops of water on the leaves of the plants in my garden. I have taken thousands of pictures of my flowers in bloom-their vivid colors dancing in the breeze. I had never seen the water dance on their leaves like this before and it seemed like almost a dream like state that I am in.

 

This morning, there was no breeze. Only the silence of the well balanced water droplets poised on the leaves and the flowers glistening and beckoning to me.

I rush inside to get the camera. I didn’t want to miss a moment. Pause here…I have owned this camera for years, don’t know where the owner’s manual is, and have yet to master the settings and really don’t know if the batteries are even charged! Panic ensues. Quickly, I realize that the worry was unfounded. The batteries were fine and I was rushing back out the door.

I start playing with the settings and the lights and the flowers and the leaves and in this little window that I am gazing through, I am unsure of if I am actually capturing what my eye was seeing. I am excited and nervous and snap some pictures and rush in to the house to hook up to my computer.

By this time, my kids are up and bustling to get ready and they have no idea that I am inwardly doing mental cartwheels. They have no idea that that little voice in my head is getting louder…willing the computer to turn on faster and the pictures to load quicker.

Favorite of all the shots-notice the drop on almost the very top left tip of the leaf where the drop looks like it is in the process of evaporating...so exciting. 

Suddenly-there they are-certainly not award winning, but to me they are everything! The way the light is bouncing off the water droplets makes me feel such a thrill. The way the flowers hold on to the droplets with the purple shining through…glistening. I am thrilled beyond words.

I silently thank that little voice in my head. I will listen to it more often. Clearly, in those moments when I am feeling groggy and unfocused, I need to take a moment to listen. I might hear that little voice direct me where I am meant to be. 

Driving out of my Heart

The other day, I was a passenger in a car and I spotted my son driving in his car about a half a block ahead of us. I had a very emotional reaction. I was immediately taken back to when I was holding him in my arms and whispering, “I love you,” to him for the first time. Why the reaction?

When Dylan first went to do his school for driving, I recall feeling like I had to pinch myself. Was this for real? Where did my little boy go? I hoped that Dylan took on driving better than he took on riding a bike. A look into my back seat confirmed what I already knew-there were no more car seats, no more kid’s fingerprints on the windows, no cheerios and fruit snacks strewn across the floor and the seats. Now, my vehicle was a bare canvas. My heart ached.

Dylan got his license and has taken much pride in the car that his Dad passed down to him. He keeps it clean, doesn’t like to have any junk in it and is very careful about where he parks it so as not to get it dinged.

All of a sudden it seemed, it was BJ’s turn to go to school to get his license. I remember thinking, “Could this be possible?” Where did the time go? He passed his exam with flying colors and was handed the keys to his car.

  

I have felt over the past few years that my car called, “Life” has been speeding by at an out-of-control pace and I would like to slow it down. I want to seatbelt my kids in so that they stay near me. I want to check all my blind spots so I don’t miss telling them and teaching them all about life and what they can expect. I want them to arrive at wherever they are meant to be in life, safely and well equipped to handle anything the map of life gives them. I think about the lessons I have taught them about being cautious and yet I still want them to look out the windows and enjoy the ride.

I understand why my heart ached so much when I saw the familiar blue car ahead of us. I was no longer driving. I was no longer in control of how my kids get anywhere and it is a scary thought for me and yet one that fills me with pride. When the feelings rush over me about them driving right out of my heart I need to remember, I have handed them some amazing keys and I have to trust that they will proceed with caution, but know when to enjoy the ride. 

Passion for Pinterest

What is it about Pinterest that has me addicted? I can’t stop thinking about it. 

Quotes

Fashion

Polyvore

Photography

Laughs

Dreams

If someone would have told me that I would be head over heels about “liking” something and “repining” it even 3 months ago, I would have called you crazy. In fact, when I first discovered this, I was so confused…why the pins? Why the fascination?

This afternoon, when I found myself trying to fit in about 15 minutes of “pinning time” on my lunch, it hit me. This has become my escape from reality: A safe place for me to go that I can feel free to dream with no confines of a budget or anyone saying no, or even questioning why?  This is mine. All mine.

I don’t find myself commenting on anyone else’s pins too much. I have discovered that I feel it is too personal to comment on someone else’s dreams. It’s not for me to say what brings that feeling of escape for someone else or what colors will move them or how they grow their gardens.

I used to feel that I had to explain this to people and today, I decided that I don’t want to explain it, I want to experience it and it is my time, one pin at a time. 

She is Loved

Time with my daughter, Lauren is precious. She will roll her 14 year old eyes when she reads this and insist that I am being “weird”. I don’t care about the eye roll. It is guaranteed to happen and I would worry if it did not. 

This weekend, we are at Trivia Weekend in Stevens Point-kind of a big deal if you are into that sort of that thing and Lauren came along armed with her swimsuit for hot tub time, several changes of outfits, her blanket, her IPAD, her homework and all of her hair and makeup products.

Right before we were supposed to hit the road, Lauren seemed to hear for the first time, that we were staying in Stevens Point until Sunday. Clearly she wasn’t happy. She claims to have not heard me state this fact earlier and I know that I have, but choose not to argue about it. It is wise to pick my battles. I mentally note that it would have been an even bigger bag of outfits had she known about the extra day. I quietly listened to her sigh and grown about being away for so long. Secretly, I was happy because that means that I have a whole weekend with my daughter.

There are a lot of people that come up to Joe and Lisa’s for trivia. I don’t know most of them, but I know her. I know that she will sit next to me with her cute outfit on and her perfectly brushed hair and smelling like a flower and she will be the one that I enjoy the most. I watch her play with her IPAD. I watch her take pictures. I watch her do homework and I am proud. She is sitting next to me and I can study her-the way she holds her pencil, so different then the way that I hold my own. I watch her take pride in writing her notes for her homework. I know that I was the same. I know that I too loved the way, when I was doing homework, how the pencil felt brushing across the fresh clean paper. I too loved how pretty the words were on my paper with the special loops and circles and care that only a 14 year old can give to homework.

I watch Lauren carefully. I know that I won’t get any of this time back. I want to wrap it all up in a carefully wrapped gift and set it under a Christmas tree that I keep out all year long and when I am feeling sad, or overwhelmed, I can open one of the little packages up and know that it will bring me an immediate smile. She does that, without knowing the power of her words, her smile, her giggle, her words and all I know is that I want her to only be surrounded with people who will protect and cherish all those things about her. I know this isn’t possible, but as a mother, I can’t help but pray that this is truly what happens.

There are people that fill this house this weekend that won’t know that she loves to dance and she is fantastic at it. How one moves their body like that I will never understand and it is effortless. These strangers (friends for the weekend) won’t know about how she likes to write, that she likes to organize, that she loves to surround herself with pretty things but still loves getting down right dirty. They won’t know that she loves to take care of people, especially me. She gives from the very depths of her heart, without being told to. She is love.

I know that she would rather be with her friends. I know that she would rather not be driving two hours to hang out with strangers, searching the internet for random stuff that matters to know one but everyone playing trivia this weekend. I am so happy that she is here. She is loved.