Have you ever watched an ordinary someone go about their daily tasks and think to yourself, "Yep, I could do that!"
Some of you may recall my fascination with the art of laying brick.
Years ago, I spent a lazy afternoon watching masons work on the new home next door. Lickety-split; there wasn't a wasted move.
Dollar signs danced in my head at the prospect of 'easy' money. I wouldn't let it go.
So one day my (former) hubby invited me out back to help construct his new brick BBQ.
"Goodness, this masonry business isn't as easy as it looks!"
By the time he brought out the level for the umpteenth time, I muttered a few ugly expletives and stomped away. Lesson learned.
... for the time being.
Silly, but here at an age when any self-respecting gal would be weighing her retirement options I'm daydreaming about entrepreneurial opportunities. (Well, that and winning the Power Ball jackpot.)
For instance? I've a passion to own n' operate my own indy bookstore.
Someplace where profits aren't as important as creating an atmosphere where people go to feel welcomed; cloistered, even.
... accessorized with comfy oversize wing-chairs, where (real) fireplaces simmer n' sputter and a fresh coffee's at the ready . Perhaps a gentleman's parlor with cognac available for the asking, subtly vented to dispel smoke from their pipes.
(Sorry if that sounds chauvinistic, but I think some traditions were better left 'as is.' If the feminists don't like it, they can go elsewhere.)
If that doesn't work out, I'm pretty sure there's a wee cafe in the deep South somewhere with my name on it. (I started to ask, "How hard can that be?" -- but don't want to be laughed out of Blogville.)
Pardon the cliche, but I'd love to own such a spot featuring real 'comfort food.'
... where salads and sushi are conspicuously absent.
... where servers' eyes reflect the sincerity of their smiles, and they actually pause to listen after asking, "How are you?"
Oh! and where size 6's need not apply!
Since I've not much faith in Providence dropping a gazillion bucks in my bank account, these flights of fancy are just that.
Still, I hope I never outgrow those random moments that make me whisper, "Bet-cha I could do that."
What would you like to do, if you knew you couldn't fail?
Hugs from Phoenix!
|Keepin' it real!|