Finished a deadline this evening and had some time left over. This is a rare pleasure, a joy that I will revel in. I make no secret of my love for this time of year. The traditions of it and my glorying in the freshness and wonder of it carry me back to my own childhood and bring me forward to my young daughter. She’s coming to grips with what Santa Claus really is. No longer convinced that he’s an actual physical being, she believes in spirit, in hope and in joy. That’s pretty good, I’d say.
Looks like I gave both the girls thrush. I feel bad–their cases aren’t as extreme as mine–but still, it’s no fun. Neither wants to go to the doc for the meds. Sue’s an old pro–having had the infection many times before–and Shannon’s doesn’t really bother her much. Generally it goes away on its own in 10 days to two weeks. C’est la vie.
Meathead Movers. Sounds great, yes? Met the owners today by phone, writing a profile piece for the paper, and was really taken by their story. My own entrepreneurial proclivities have been manifest here before. I’m a writer and the past 10 years has seen me focus on earning something of a living doing something I love to do, relying on my skills in the marketplace.
That’s what Aaron and Evan Steed did. They started out in high school, bootstrapped themselves up–no venture capitalists, no rich uncles–they started out moving friends’ parents and grew to 200 employees, 32 trucks and have expanded 30 percent in the past year. It’s a great story–about customer service, finding a niche, serving a market, etc. I can’t go on because I’d give away the story before it comes out in the Star. Suffice to say, it is a great story.
Christmas is on its way–though the weather here wouldn’t tell you that. Should be cooling off soon. Keep hope alive, and all. It is time to mosey.