My Mid-Life Crisis/44 year-old style

Is 44 a good time for a mid-life crisis? I don’t know, but I’m having one. More than likely, I am about mid-way through this journey. At this point- in the mid-forties-ish, most of us evaluate our lives. We take a moment and look back on our decisions. We also simultaneously look forward with eagerness while we judge ourselves harshly. Am I satisfied with myself? Mostly. Am I content with where I stand? Never. It’s been great and exciting and rewarding life so far, but I feel a rumbling inside myself and it is not indigestion. It is my inner voice. What is next, Amy? What now? Don’t worry, I won’t leave my husband or anything crazy like that. But I’m going to take a leap of faith, follow the signs, and… well… I shouldn’t tell you everything at once. So, what am I planning? I am going to do what all entrepreneurs do and follow my passion to make a new path. I love to write, express myself through what I wear, and shop for second-hand clothing. So… I am going to make my own clothing store, and I am going to write about all the steps as I take them and share them. You can read about it here. This blog is #1. I will tell you in the blog how this vision came to be. You can follow the story and leave comments or suggestions. I am open to what you have to say because I have never done anything like this before. So… Like all my big events in my life, the whole thing started with my own words. I “put it out there” to the universe a few months ago when I told my husband and a few friends that I thought that we needed a funky second hand clothing/furniture store in our town. I said it often to anyone who would listen and I kind of wanted it to be me. One day The Red Barn opened on School Street and it brought great joy to my heart. Even though it wasn’t me, someone had made it happen and how cool is that? I watched as the owner decorated the space, painting the inside, adding shelving, lighting, and wonderful trinkets and art with a playful flare. One Sunday I approached the door, and though she wasn’t open for business yet, I knocked. Rhoda answered with a smile and let me in. We had never met, but this being the small Vermont town that it is, we had of course heard of each other before. I told her how happy I was that she had done this and that we really needed something like this in our town. I asked her if she was going to sell any clothes. Nope. I took an extra bold step and asked if perhaps she would be willing to rent some space upstairs to me in the summer so I could sell some funky clothes on consignment. “Probably not. I don’t like dealing with clothes. I am way better at the ‘stuff’,” Rhoda said. End of conversation. I left her store feeling sort of secretly happy that clothing wasn’t her thing because it really is mine, and perhaps I can still have the corner of the second-hand market in our little town somehow. Some day. Some way. It’s my passion. Months passed. I still kept searching for the right venue. I am never afraid to pursue things and ask questions and follow trails. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? So, Memorial day weekend, and my first day off in a very long time. My husband was generous and hung at home with the kids while I went to Seasoned Books in town and had breakfast with a friend and talked about all sorts of things like the fact that our town needs to purchase another school bus. We talked about the various uses for a school bus if the school needed to buy a new one and we started “brainstorming” lots of uses.

Then we scanned the town wide yard sale on the green. At the Park House yard sale, I was led by a woman who knows my taste, to a table of great jewelry from the 1970’s so I bought myself some great flare. I also got a lovely outdoor vase for my garden. I lost track of time. The last thing I had to do before heading home was purchase some mulch at the Hardware Store because I wanted to garden on my birthday. Mulch=Happiness. Car loaded, I looked across the street at The Red Barn as I started my car. I am so happy that she has made that work here in our little town, and it is a great location… School Street. School Street… School Clothes… Old School Clothes… It hit me! I could buy a school bus and take all the seats out of it and replace the seats with racks and racks of clothes. I could have a TRAVELING thrift shop. What a concept! Only a few problems surfaced when I thought about it… I don’t have my CDL License and buses are big and buses are expensive and use Diesel. I could kill someone driving around in something so large and I should not be a teacher who kills someone while I am driving around in a bus. But… I am a dreamer so I kept dreaming as I prepared to go home. I had played “hookey” for most of the morning and should head home to see the husband and kids. I looked up School Street to check for traffic. None… as usual… A gust of wind blew. A big gust of wind. I looked at The Red Barn across the street and watched as the wind grabbed a vintage beach umbrella that was set up outside the store. It tumbled across the front of the store and stopped. I was on my way home… but I didn’t like seeing the umbrella tumbling, so I pulled across the street and parked my car, got out, and approached the umbrella. Rhoda came out of the store at the same time. We both grabbed the umbrella top steady it. “Thanks,” She smiled. I let go, and she closed the umbrella, moved it back, and leaned it against the red siding. I had already decided to go inside her store… after all, I had been bargain hunting all day. What’s another 15 minutes of dawdling? Well… life changing… that’s what. It was a recipe for a mid-life crisis decision. It was the weekend I was turning 44 and I had “put it out to the universe”… months before. I was searching for something. Something unusual… I looked around inside her store and bought my son a marble. The antique marbles were 20c so I gave Rhoda a quarter and told her to keep the change. Big spender… We small-talked. I told her my idea. I would get the bus and clean it out. I would call it “Old School Clothes.” “Hey… I have an 1958 Airstream for sale. It needs to be gutted out, but it is able to be moved. You could do fairs and flea markets. I was going to sell hamburgers out of it… but someone is doing that already, so that can’t happen.” My brain latched on to the idea. HMMMM… buy a classic ‘Silver Bullet’ Airstream and open a business inside of it. I have found a vessel… or… more accurately, it found me. And it is not that huge of a financial commitment. It seems crazy. To quote my mother, the wise one who gave birth to me 44 years ago (today), “When did you become so obsessive compulsive?” This was her response when I asked her to come and see the Airstream. She wouldn’t budge because she was in her nightgown. I wanted her to take my picture next to the “Silver Bullet”, and I wanted her opinion about whether I am too much of a dreamer to think I can remodel the inside and turn it into my mid-life crisis dream come true. My mother always tends to point out the negative sides of things, which keeps me tethered to the planet. So I always go to her with my crazy ideas so she can talk me out of them. My response: “Mom, I have always been this obsessive about things.” (Notice I didn’t say compulsive… because I am not.) So… this is where we are right now. I have chatted about the idea with people besides my mother, and no one seems to laugh. People have tilted their heads slightly, but no one has called the authorities to check me into the mental institution. My husband seems to think it would be roomy inside. I could buy it and start cleaning it out this summer. I could perhaps attend a few markets and begin to earn some of the money back that I think I may invest into this crazy idea. But here is the best part of all of it… If things don’t work out as I am seeing them, my family can always just take the blessed Airstream on vacation in the summer. It would be useful to keep up dry in case of rain, which tends to happen around here. Not bad for a mid-life crisis, you know? At least I want to share the rest of my journey with my husband and kids, not trade them in like pieces of consignment clothing. But wait, is there a mark-up value on a man who is wise enough to get me a massage for my birthday? Yes… that’s right… priceless… a man to share the future with as long as he is willing to stay the course. I look forward to seeing him take a maul to the inside of this Airstream after I ask the bank to support my business plan. Man, I have work to do. Stay tuned, dear reader.