family

Mystery Envelope

A self-addressed stamped envelope on the kitchen table. (Who even does that anymore?) My own handwriting. A return address sticker with a name I didn’t know. Confusion.

Opened the envelope to find a letter and some photos. A pile of very old and very unexpected memories.

It was her very first plane ride. A whiplash trip to Naples, Florida. Me and my little baby.

Took the 8am flight out, the 8pm flight back. Nothing but a car carrier, diaper bag, formula, a ton of diapers, my little front baby pouch, and some food. Her Great Grandma was nearing the end of life, and I wanted them to meet each other before Great Grandma passed away.

We took a shuttle straight to the nursing home. Met her Great Grandma during recreation time. She sat in her wheelchair. My little Anne, still wobbly on her feet, reached up for her. Great Grandma was deep into dementia by then. I’m sure she didn’t know me, she didn’t know Anne. But still, even through the fog and confusion, Great Grandma’s face lit up. A sweet little baby, soft and curious, reaching up to be held. Their smiles echoed each other’s – wide and cheerful.

We spent a couple of hours. Just talking about nothing in particular. Great Grandma hadn’t been my family for very long. She was my Grandpa’s fourth wife. He had been her third husband. He passed away first, leaving my little known new Grandma to handle his affairs. This wasn’t an easy process, but my Dad loved and accepted her because she had been his Dad’s choice. He still called her every week. But she hardly knew me. I hardly knew her. There was just a lot of smiling and playing with the baby.

We flew home. I wrote her a letter and sent her photos of the visit. As I wrote in the letter, I knew she didn’t have much use for clutter in her tiny single room. So I sent a self-addressed stamped envelope in case she wanted to return them.

Fifteen years later, 2021, the envelope, the photos, appear in my mailbox. My sweet baby in the photos now drives her own car. Still has the blond hair, but she’s five foot nine. She still reaches up. She still smiles, and brings smiles to many.

A letter from her daughter came with it. She had just found the photos, with my letter and envelope, in a long packed away box of photos and keepsakes. Obviously Great Grandma wanted to keep them, she wrote. What can you do but wistfully smile at fate and memory and times long gone?

I got to share the story with Anne, and the pictures. Shortly after that visit, I learned that those were the very last photos ever taken of Great Grandma. Her own children appreciated them, and cherished that we took the time to visit.

Across fifteen years, a whisper from a daughter I may have met once. A memory of an experience that mattered, even if Great Grandma and Anne wouldn’t have known it at the time.

When I think about it, it was kind of crazy. Take a baby on a plane? By myself? Twice in one day? Just to see someone who probably won’t recognize me? Who may not even know why we are there? Yup, I did that. I’m still that kind of crazy. The kind of crazy that will drive hours out of my way for a hug. That will go over and above just to do something little. The little things are the big things.

Take time for people. Take time to write. To chronicle and share. To connect and care.

business

The Deal

The deal is dead so I guess I can write about it. The deal I wanted to wrap up in 2020 with a pretty bow is in the toilet. Gone just like that.

Instead of celebrating the new deal in my portfolio, I am reviewing how it got squashed. It wasn’t just squashed once. It was squashed many times. Why? No lenders want to take a risk in this particular industry thanks to COVID.

Despite a rocking year of financials and long standing history, the market is considered volatile. This is crazy to me because the housing market is booming. Lenders will lend people money for a $400,000.00 home but they can lose their job just like that. As an entrepreneur you need to make things work, not just collect a paycheck.

For this deal I was willing to bet my blood, sweat and tears on an opportunity that is solid and immediately generating revenue but that’s too risky for the stuffy bankers in their suits and ties. 

This is just an example of what’s wrong with today. It’s okay for me. I have other irons in the fire so I’m going to keep on fighting and maybe revisit that opportunity later. Maybe later I won’t want the deal because I wanted it when others saw the odds were down. I like the underdog shots. The come-from-nowhere wins. The opportunities others will toss to the side because it takes grit to get the outcome desired.

For now I’ll watch. I’ll listen. I’ll soak in the experience. I mean I do say you have get some nos before you get the yes. I also believe in karma, timing and gut feelings.

In my gut I know when the time is right for me, the deal of a lifetime will pass by and I’ll be ready to sink my teeth in. For now I’ll wait. I’ll watch. I’ll learn. I’ll keep putting those coins in the piggy bank so I’m ready when opportunity comes knocking.

Can you say Corona has put up a wall for you in 2020? How did you handle your challenge(s)? What, if anything, are you doing now to be ready for traversing the wall. Hopefully your wall is just temporary like mine.

A new day. A new opportunity to get better. Moving on to greener pastures. A little farewell to bankers. I’ll don’t like government loans anyway. I’d rather start with a $20 bill and see how much I grow it.

Starting something from nothing is far more gratifying but not for the weak. Maybe you now know something about me. I will always be chasing the next version of me.

adventure

In the Air

The other day I wrote about my travels in reference to my exposures in the airport mainly. As I reflected I thought maybe I should write about my in-flight experience.

This trip was on Southwest where my last trip was on Delta. The boarding process is different when it comes to how they group people for loading but it’s tolerable. Once on the plane I enjoyed the funny announcements. “No alcohol on this flight. That includes alcohol you may have brought with you. Save it for the after party. After you land that is.” Silly but gave me an under the mask giggle.

Then the mystery snack pack arrived. The little bag labeled with nothing but the logo or that was all I could read in the dark plane. What’s in it? A super secret surprise…

I had to put my flashlight on. It’s a snack and a smile package of deliciousness. First I can take my mask down to eat so guess what I chewed ever so slowly. Savoring each bite. One by one. There were little pretzels with a hint of seasoning of some kind. There were cheez-its or knock off cheez-it. It didn’t matter, both of those are favorite snacks. And the bonus was the round bagel crisps for an extra crunch. Yum. A snack pack made just for me! I even asked for an extra one and the gentleman was so sweet to give me another. Lucky me. Munch munch munch I did.

Got to wash down my snacks with some ice cold water. After being masked up for so long in the airport itself the water seemed extra refreshing. I never usually say I like water but this time I can say I actually did. Huge growth moment.

Flash. Flash. Flicker. Flash again. Flickering blue lights. Lasers. All out of the corner of my eye. Why it’s my travel buddy watching music videos that must be rave-type with strobe lights galore. I had to look away. Too much of a crazy show from a neighboring seat.

When I wasn’t snacking and avoiding the laser show, I was admiring the cute little 12-week-old mini golden doodle that was riding in front of me. So cute. So tiny at just 8 pounds with the wimpy little bark. Tucked inside his momma’s carrying case. He did so good on his first plane ride. Made me miss my little Teddie Aspen a little more. 

Quick flight. Less than two hours. They had WiFi but I just drifted into my own little peaceful state of self and just enjoyed thinking about things. Making plans in my notes on my phone. Recapping some business matters from the day and so on.

No turbulence. A smooth landing and off I go to the new city. Time to unbuckle and navigate my way to see how another city is adjusting to covid. What new rules will I adjust to? Just a day in the crazy world we live these days. 

Adventure awaits.

adventure, friendship

The Tale of the Pizza Shop

I was craving pizza. A loaded pizza. Full of amazing toppings. Pepperoni that was crisp and curled. Onions that were cut just right. Green peppers for some color. Mushroom for flair. And I can’t forget the best meatball slices on the planet. That’s the pizza I’m craving. A pizza from a cozy mountain pizza spot named Twisted.

Twisted pizza is such a fitting name. Twisted with any toppings you desire. Twisting your tastebuds as you devour the pizza. Mmmmmm I wish you could smell the cheese and yummy toppings.

Twisted.

Twisted is how this story came about. The twisted tale of the pizza and a coke. A fountain coke no less. Oh the adventures we have. 2 chicks. 2 flipping cokes. A damn pizza and some sticky fingers. That’s all I got. No really, it gets so much better.

My cohort started this nightmarish episode on a frightful October night in a scary part of town that just happens to have the best pizza in town. It’s takeout only because of covid. She asked do I want a drink at the checkout? No I’m taking the pizza to go. We wait in the car for the pizza man to deliver the pizza. It seems like a long time because mountain time is like beach time….Sloooow.

A revelation hits her or she decides to speak about her annoyance. You know we don’t have any coke, she exclaims. If I’m having pizza I need a coke. What? I need a coke. You said no to coke. I really need a coke. Okay let me get a coke. No they only have bottled coke and I don’t drink bottled coke. Is this for real?

Do I need to get a fountain coke for you? Yup! Okay I’m waiting in the car for the pizza so off she goes to the inferior pizza place a few doors down in the same strip center…. yes it’s smart to have two pizza joints fighting for clients within 500 ft of each other, right? That might even sound a bit twisted.

Well the other joint has fountain cokes so there you have it. She is happy. I’m happy. But that’s not where the story ends…

She gets the coke. The lid is not quite the right size. The coke spills all over. Hence the sticky fingers noted above. A millions giggles later, she shakes her head at the price of the Dixie cup full of coke ($4) but that’s because you get free refills… but we don’t get any refills in the parking lot. Again that’s so twisted. 

Then she says geez, that place was a buffet. It’s the place the pandemic forgot. A salad bar with cottage cheese. So many items free for all. And it’s open to the public. Guess they missed the rules memo from covid. I just entered a petri dish of pizza establishments and and and. All for a damn coke she said. I sighed and said a flat ass diet coke at that with zero fizz. What the what.

Did I mention she actually got a diet coke? A flat flat ass, no tasting diet coke. All that effort for such a little return. And so we decided to eat the pizza in the car. It was that kind of night. A parking lot pizza party with no music and lots of chomping and a coke to wash it down.

How the evening ended up of a parking lot pizza party with a coke. Don’t you wished you lived the extravagant and twisted life of two chicks? And had the balls to write about it? I mean the meatballs since we are clearly 2 Chicks with endless ink in our pen.

3Splitz Farm

Dirt to Dreams

Some folks wonder what dreams are made of. For me my current dream is made of dirt. Or it at least starts with dirt or land but there is a vision behind the layers of dust, dirt, grass, rock and critters.
Today’s dream is agricultural at its roots with the seeds planted for future development over the long haul. It’s hard to explain but to just jot down the CliffsNotes of the vision without giving away the finish line is a great way to show a glimpse to others who maybe can’t see the path on their own. My motto has always been dream big and this is a great example to showcase.
Just a chick on her tractor with her faithful sidekick moving dirt in one way or another. A whole different level of badassery than you see on the weekdays but equally satisfying. How could that be? I’m working on my dream. I’m using my own blood, sweat and tears to build something that matters. The depth and breadth of the project is hard to quantify today but the process in itself of building/assembling the dream is priceless.
The people on the journey near and far who see the value of the dream and even participate in one way or another is magical. Sharing smiles is ever so treasured when on or around my dirt pile I call rustic paradise. This past weekend we had a family gathering. The memories made on the land, in the dirt were irreplaceable. My 80+ years young mom got to share in our country festivities and see a simple side of life. No hustle, no bustle, no TV, but somehow time goes by so fast.
Three generations of women sharing stories, memories, experiences on the dirt / land I incorporate in the big dream. For now this is just one example of the value within the land. There are many more from virtual connections, friend connectivity, farmily traditions and overall growth as people within this environment.
This weekend I dealt with snakes, ducks, rabbits, dogs and other critters. I came out unscathed and enjoyed every last minute. Even the frightful moment dealing with a venomous snake. And the irony of the snake picture is I stopped to get video proof of this snake to identify it. Now it appears to be a copperhead yet last time I wrote about a snake I noted I screamed dramatically. This time I didn’t but probably should have given the type of snake!
The good news is I lived to tell another story and hope that somewhere in the world somebody is enjoy my dream big stories. Signing off as a farm girl for now before I strap on my heels for the day job. Until next time.