Friday, March 11, 2011
I sometimes think about what I'd do if this knitting thing didn't work out. And lately it goes something like this: I'd open my own candy store. Featuring what else but Claramels, of course.
I'd spend my days stirring pot after pot of sweet gooey deliciousness, effortlessly transforming it into perfectly wrapped pieces of happiness that people would come from all corners of the globe to acquire, in copious quantities, with large wads of cash. I'd be in every gourmet grocery store in America. Martha and I would be on a first-name basis. Jacques Pepin would ask, "How on earth did you think to pair molasses with chevre?" I'd smile demurely and hand him another sample.
That's my dream, and I blame it on this Portland storefront. Sure, it may not look like much to you. But in it I see potential. I see freshly polished tile floors, marble counters and glass cabinets and mirrors galore, old-fashioned apothecary jars filled to the brim with fresh confections, and me, humming a tune as I unlock the door early in the morning, flip on the lights, crank up the tunes, and begin my day.
Suddenly I'm a morning person, I'm a brilliant and fearless businesswoman, I have boundless energy and oh, did I mention? Extraordinary management skills. Time, people, money, you name it. I'm a genius.
All I can conclude is that even when you're lucky enough to live your wildest dreams, you still end up dreaming.