The "What the Hell Were You Thinking Mind-to-Mind Transfer Ring", or how I began an accidental startup

 When I was in my corporate job, I had this plastic blue jewel ring I'd slip over my right forefinger for those times:  "When nobody with a lick of logic would ever be able to figure out what the ever-lovin' fuck the eedjit was talking about." And yes, I did have a workplace accident one day when I smashed this a bit "enthusiastically" into the forehead of a co-worker while demonstrating its power. It was so powerful, it got away with me and it took my friend the rest of the week before he got within arms length of me again, but he did eventually forgive me. 

I know what you're saying, "Why would anyone in their right mind want to START building a company at an age when most people "should be" evaluating golf course living? Maybe move into Disney World or travel the earth and the Seven Seas (or at least try more than two of their dressings). The fact is, I didn't. I'd already had two products fail and I'd spent two years working on those products and giving disappointing interviews for jobs I never wanted.  When I came to terms with the last product (Dirty Data Girl, "We clean your data, so you don't have to!") was a deader, I caved to my hubster's request in 2018 to sell our home. Yes.  Our home of 27 years, the one we'd blown out the back & built into the 2nd story, the house where every member of my family had spent time pulling up carpet, laying tile, plastering or painting walls, the one where we'd installed our "forever kitchen" - until the house was a personalized, quirky, beautiful home.

So, this is the beginning of the story which needs the help of The Mind-to-Mind TransferRing to understand.

We live in a neighborhood which rezoned from single-family to some level of low-rise.  Developers actually knock at our door to offer us "top dollar". And while that's a whole other story, the point was that hubster was going to be able to quit his job before the age of 59 1/2 and we were going to live off the proceeds of the house sale. Needless to say a few bait & switches later, we'd packed our house & I had created a couple of tools to help with our next move planning.  I have to say, I'm proud of one of the tools I built where I had to learn "truck" language. It matched trailers to truck size. 

The other plan we'd thought about was moving back to my old stomping ground in rural NE Georgia. My Mom, who has dementia, had chosen to remain there while she could still make decisions. She knew it would be permanent and because her kids lived in Washington state and Alaska, she knew once she declined to move while she could that we would be separated. So, that's when I started on the original model which became Willowfinch. I wanted to answer the question for myself if there were enough properties of interest in the area, at the price - not of my home valuation - but based upon my mortgage because saving money would be the whole point behind moving from our dream home with its (now) 30-year old garden. 

So, this is the start of the origin story of Willowfinch.

What Next?

We put our house on the market.  We did it a week ago Friday. Interest is high.

Colette did a reading for me in July, this Fool walking off the edge is one reason why I finally said "yes." Dirty Data Girl is not not just not scalable, there's no margin at all. It makes a good t-shirt & twitter handle though.

What happens after you sell your Dream Home?

It's all about

my Craftmatic Adjustable Bed, because YES, my back has chosen yet another way to kink itself in the midst of me decompressing from being unemployed.  I think I might be allergic stressless situations, or maybe stress is the only thing (not love) which keeps me together.

So, here is a picture of my adjustable bed

and my PJs

Just when you thought it was safe

Even I'm calling my holidays over.  It's Monday, January 5th, 2015 and I'm ready to get back into it, but "it" is all self-motivated stuff.  I'm trying to figure out what I want to do next but I'm up to Entrepreneurial Venture 73, and am trying to multi-task between restarting my coursera courses; work on my chandelier;  work on my blog / newsletter, updating my email list for my personal blog; start refinishing the Eames bent plywood chairs I bought for a lark; researching Etsy stores; updating my resume; and restarting my perma-diet.

One thing at a time...  even though I think my brain just exploded on the sandwich plate.  That said, here's one thing I did finish following through on - getting a better picture for LinkedIn.  My friend, Leslie, helped me overcome my morbid fear of the Cosmetic Sales persons and since she speaks Beauty, she helped me navigate a makeover at Nordstroms.  Well, actually, now I've had three because I need lessons.  It's not like I was born with the knowledge of how to apply lipstick as though it were a homing instinct.  There are RULES to be followed.  I now know this:  "Dramatic lips, neutral eyes.  Dramatic eyes, neutral lips."

I can follow the dots just fine on this.  I feel like I've actually gotten a nap.

The Art of Making Lists

It is a Tuesday.  

Standing under the shower this morning I had the urge to remain until the hot water ran out.  It feels like I've run a long race.  I'm winded and want to lean over, hands braced against my knees, try to catch my breath.  Even though I'm technically on vacation, even though technically I'm not retired, and technically my Monday retirement date is in doubt because of yet another glitch in The System, I can feel the freefall.

Today I picked up my pen again.  While this long weekend has been fun, it's been quite busy.  I've cancelled my walking appointments because I really don't know what I want to do when.  Even so, the calendar alarms are going to have their volumes dropped a bit.  It doesn't mean that my memory is getting any better, it means I've become entranced with the idea of hand-moving-across-the-paper and notecards again.  I pulled out my 3x5 notecards and began to scrawl reminders for the day, then made one for tomorrow, then one for Thursday.  That was as far as I could get before I didn't want to plan any longer.

We're off to see the Marsala

The fortified wine, Marsala, is made on this island. We're at the northwestern part of Sicily, Marsala is in the southwestern part. We woke up at 6:30 this morning. We are soooo over jet lag and back into the middle-aged restless sleep that we feel just like we're at home. Cefalu sits at the base of La Rocca, a piedmont thrusting onto the Mediterranean surrounded by the frozen tufa of a forgotten eruption. The bougainvillea and oleander are in bloom,the green comes from thistle, cactii, and arbor vitae instead of softer grassesn and blooming cherry trees of Seattle. We're up before the B&B breakfast will be prepared so we'll go down our 67 steps to the piazza below, order cappuccini and eat the Sicilian croissant. These are not crispy as much as they are like a very soft roll. There always seems to be some surprised stuffed in them. We still haven't gotten the phone situation figured out. Sunday was Sunday and only jewelry, clothing, shoe, and jewelry stores were open (yes, the duplication of "jewelry" was intentional. There are that many jewelry stores). Yesterday, once we finally found a store, we realized we hadn't brought a passport. So, we are a mess - and what else is new?

There are 67 steps up to the B&B we're staying at. That's after you get to the top of the hillside portion of the town. This charming B&B has another 12 steps to go to get to the terrace overlooking the Mediterranean. Cefalu is a resort town for Italians, Sicilians, French, Germans and all the rest of the world. It's nestled at the base of a piedmont, perched atop volcanic runs frozen into tufa from some long-ago eruption. The town has charm and it knows it. Yesterday, Sunday, was confirmation day for many of the town's children. Dave & I sat in the piazza sipping cappucini watching the small procession go by. There were more relatives, friends, and family than tourists. It was the kind of event every tourist hopes occurs while they're in a town, the local event which enwraps family and strangers alike. The children, dressed in long white cassocks, carried white daylilies singing about Jesu being alive. Their families carried baskets of rhodedendron and left them on the church steps. The brass bells rang noon.