centered and unbridled

I forgot how much I fucking love yoga.

I finally have two days off in a row again. Actually three days off in a row as I refuse to work on Sundays. It's a holy day of football that should be left sacred. And Monday there's nothing to do in the vines anymore so... I guess I don't go in to work. And Tuesdays there's still nothing to do, except maybe label bottles, but with my recent tennis elbow in one hand and cyst in my wrist in my other hand, I'll leave that for the kids to do. I feel old and falling apart. And I don't feel like moving case boxes around by myself, trying to stay motivated.

So I grabbed my formerly yoga enthused sister and went to the advanced class Monday morning, after grabbing a bagel, extra cream cheese and a coffee but forgetting to throw on extra deodorant. Um, so hot house yoga = not as fun as it sounds when you're hopped on caffeine and stinking like a gym locker room.
But still I was shocked at the techniques that I just automatically remembered, opening up my "heart" by pushing shoulder blades together and keeping my hips open, a term that makes my friend Janice giggle like a school girl every time.
I can't tell if I love or hate the succession of lunges into what can only be described as a pushup midway through but held out for an ungodly amount of time. Or the eagle, which is pretty much what every kid did when they were trying to turn themselves into a pretzel while standing on one foot.

So follow up the cleansing of the soul via namaste with some sushi and a couple sapporos. Damn. That feeling of being totally stretched out, muscles forming new tiny little tears with soreness in the best way possible as strength grows, and then consuming copious quantities of raw fish, eel, lobster, crab, shrimp, and tuna tar tar wrapped up in seaweed is indeed euphoric. Deep breathing must be carried out when doing weird head stands as well as when balancing delicious bits of food on the end of two little sticks, trying to dunk into salty soy water after two delightful beverages.
I think I could get used to this whole - days off thing. I mean, as long as I don't run out of money... which would probably happen pretty quickly at this pace.

Now I've spent my day on the internet doing something that my mother can't do. She's great at putting together rocks and gems and glass pieces and silver charms with intricate wire working... but she does not understand how the internet works. So hopefully by me throwing her work online it will move some of the inventory that is filling up her house.
And it's kinda fun to see how I can photograph everything. But I'm having trouble imaging the other end, the person who is like, wow, I really need to search for a 1978 vintage Christmas Cross in sterling silver and damn, I really would like some Jasper stones in there too while I'm at it. Here's my credit card, ship right away darling!

Oh, but I did save a bunch of money. I got a loop pedal app for 2.99, which effectively saved me about 97.01 dollars buying an actual loop pedal. My throat is swollen up like I swallowed a balloon and I feel like I'm sick more often than I'm not now. Hmm... I might get that looked at. But probably not.

So soon I'm off to Radio Shack to buy an overpriced tiny specialized cord to plug a bass guitar into my phone. Bassist moving out of state? There's an app for that.
Sooooooo not as fun. But at least it's something to occupy my time. I still haven't bought a tv. I'm not sure if I'm saving money or becoming more productive.... or just going down to the local bar more often. Either way, it's an excuse to get out of my tiny four walls.

Grand Rapids? or Chicago? or Akron? or just find a spot of land and hunker down waiting for what my prepper friends keep saying is inevitable? It's a weird spot to be in, debating between such total polar opposites. Sigh. A decision that doesn't have to be made today, for sure.

Oh, by the way, how I wish I had $250. There's the cutest little meat slicer that my butcher is selling because it's too small for him. But I'm looking at it as the perfect size for my smoked beef brisket, thin sliced and piled high on a hoagie bun. Or that boneless leg of lamb, or that turkey breast on the grill with an apple, herbed glaze. Or my picnic ham, slow roasted with a citrus soy glaze.... Sigh. I wonder if they'd let me make payments on it.

Odd how after calming myself down and washing away all the job worries, that my mind explodes into a million different ways to do so many things. I like unbridled minds. I'd like to imagine unbridled rather than off the tracks.

Move on

When your best friend tells you in a text that she's moving 5 states away, do you;

A. Lecture her about Proper life decisions.
B. Go into a screaming tirade about how she can't do this to you and she caaaant leave.
C. Grab all the dirty clothes cluttering up your bedroom and head to the laundromat to clear your head.

Change my playlist to something a bit more contemplative with a nice beat that will help with my new obsession, drum machine beats. I don't like the straight hard counts. I like the beats that you uncomfortably wait for them to hit. Not punk rock.

I forgot my soap so my trip ends up being 20 bucks but much needed.

I found 10 bucks in the dryer so I guess it was worth it.

Back to thinking, my job has gone the way it wa foretold by a winery consultant about the model not to do- plant a ton of vines on the family farm and wrap yourself in so much overhead before you even know if your location is good, you can sell your wine, you can even make good wine, or if the local market can absorb all you can produce.
I can sell wine. About 700 bottles per month through the tasting room, 90% consumed on site with high staff overhead.
We can make wine... But it explodes in the bottle and we keep having to redo it.

The business plan is flawed. No matter how hard I try, selling bottles of wine for under cost isn't going to make things work.

So I am stepping back and taking a deep breath. I should have run the numbers awhile ago. I guess I assumed someone already had. Now I know that's false
There's still some part of me that hopes we could make some changes and make things work. I have loyal customers who tell me I'm too cheap. I just say - I don't set the prices.
And my bosses are in panic mode and using the word micromanaging like its a good thing.  Which is making every day harder than the last. I'm laying off my awesome employees and then calling them back to help me with exploding wine, which is frustrating for all involved.

Alright. Back to deep breathing and assessing my life. If I would throw myself into something with a smart business plan, I would feel more accomplished and less frustrated. Of course. But what and where.

I re-remembered that I like city living. Maybe a bigger city?

Eh, I won't decide today. I'll go to lunch wih my sister an my mom. Then I'll go to work. And try to be happy and keep my best employee from quitting exude I don't know what I would do without him. And I'll drop my dog off with my sister an she will look sad. And then a night walk by myself, maybe to the bar up the street with giant beers for $3. An sit in the corner with my drum machine and make uncomfortable yet cobtmplative  beats.

Two broken keyboards and one broke Jane makes for very depression nights with no music.