So the idea of a store has been on my mind a lot lately. Mostly I get this heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach because it’s such a huge leap, a big risk. I know I declared sometime last year that opening up our own store was in future plans, but 7 months ago I was having real doubts. I don’t want a cafe, to serve breakfast and lunch and have table service, however, most bakeries eventually expand their offerings beyond baked goods just so that it can help cover the crazy rents here in the city. We are profitable now, and from day 1 really, because our overhead costs are relatively low. I know we have a good thing going here – we don’t pay rent for our kitchen space, but Mark rather barters for labor as a pastry chef for unlimited use of the kitchen at the restaurant. But even as this arrangement has worked well for us, there are limitations. We can sustain this level of production for however long this arrangement lasts, but we can’t really grow this way. We can’t bring in hired help in this space. We’re always feeling vulnerable too, not having our own kitchen, like we’re working against a ticking clock that might expire at some unknown time.

But here’s the question – how do we want to grow? What’s the eventual goal here? Dear friends, I’ll fully admit…I’m not sure. I think deep down in my gut we know that we have to end up with our own kitchen and store at some point. It’s only logical. Mark wants one. People ask about a store all the time (it’s like once you get married everyone asks “so, when are you guys having a baby?”) and lots of customers assume we have a store already. Over the past year or so we’ve seen 5 or 6 of our fellow Brooklyn Flea foodies open up stores of their own. We went to the opening of the new Crop to Cup Cafe a few months ago on Atlantic Avenue (pictured above with Kumquat Cupcakes, another favorite BK Flea vendor, at the opening celebration). Every time we hear of store plans from other vendors it’s like a reminder…store, store, STORE.

So why the doubt? Let’s just put aside the financial risks and the exorbitant upfront investment costs to build out a kitchen for now. We spent over 6 years figuring out a way for Mark to get out of the restaurant industry once we started a family. We felt dismally trapped by his chef’s schedule – working every single holiday, every single weekend, the ridiculously early morning hours. So why, after finally escaping that grueling schedule would we want to go back? When I think about being financially and physically married to a store, my stomach churns a little bit. I think it’s reasonable to close the store down 1 day a week, but the rest of the days will be long and early and at least in the beginning, we’ll have to be there all the time. My mild social phobia gives me anxiety about manning a store. When I think about our other friends who have opened stores I think about the fact that none of them have families. It’s not like it’s impossible to do this with kids, but it does present some challenges. Obviously we are not opposed to hard work and long hours – Mark hasn’t had a single day off in about a month. At best he’s had a few hours free here and there, but most times he’s in the kitchen and running around the city making deliveries and picking up supplies so it’s not about the work. I guess it’s about the potential loss of freedom and flexibility and the responsibility and stress of meeting over head costs and maintaining trustworthy employees.

So…here we are. I feel pressured to come up with a plan and future goals. People always say that it’s important for every business to have short term and long term goals. Business is fine, great even, but this is one hump that I can’t seem to overcome. I feel like we’ve been coasting for awhile, constantly chasing orders, overwhelmed with other freelance work, so there hasn’t been time to think. So far Mark has been able to rise to the demands of growing orders, but there is only so much 1 person can physically do in a 24 hour day. We’ve gotten faster, more efficient at packaging and most people wouldn’t believe that the volume of product we put out is handled mostly by a single person, but I believe we’ve reached our capacity. Still, I feel like an ass every time I have to turn down wholesale inquiries which lately has been quite often.

I know sometimes you need to close your eyes, take a deep breath, dive right in and hope for the best. We’ve done it before and I *am* proud of what we were able to build in 2 years time by ourselves alone. We feel extraordinarily lucky that for whatever reason, the press gods smiled down on us and we’ve had press coverage through no pursuits of our own. I don’t know why this has happened or if it will continue, but if this was a gift, I will gratefully take it. It just shows me that we have something here.

A friend and fellow entrepreneur recently told me that she was told in her business development class that you’re not a true entrepreneur until you delegate the tasks to others. Actually 2 friends have recently told me this. If you’re still doing all the work yourself, all you’ve done is just create a job for yourself. Interesting. So I’m trying to think about the business a little differently. I’m trying to be courageous, I’m trying to be confident, basically trying to be things that I don’t really feel right now. I’ve come to a point where I can wrap my head around a kitchen work space with a little counter and a few stools. This seems manageable as I still don’t want to operate a cafe. We actually got excited when we talked about selling sorbets and ice creams, which was our very first original business idea way before W&S’s time. And what about location? Ideally close to home so we can still pick up the kids from school and such. Are we asking for too much? And there is that little matter of trying to find an extra 160k to build out a kitchen…and this…and that…oh lord, maybe I need to find a therapist asap to help me deal with all this crap! Clearly, I have not coped well with anxiety in the recent past.

Sometimes it’s good to play tourist and get a new perspective on your city. I’m also trying to get a new perspective on this sudden change in my schedule – something I seem to have to do, oh every 6 months or so. Whatever life is, it’s never predictable.

I finally opened a second etsy shop of photographs over the weekend. But you know that last scene in the Graduate when they’re on the bus and the adrenaline has died down and Ben and Elaine are looking unsure? I kinda feel like that, though I don’t know why.

On one hand it’s nice to see these photos together in one place and I will surely add to the collection as I take more photos, but on the other hand, I have no idea if there is a market for them. I mean, look. I’m not a professional photographer. They are mostly mushrooms and marshmallows. They might be interesting to look at, yes, but to buy and hang on a wall? So the shop will be an experiment (hey, 2 of the photographs made it in treasuries that landed on the Etsy front page already, though at the odd, unopportune hour of 6am Saturday and Monday morning, lol). We’ll see.

At best, it’s been a distraction. I feel no pressure right now to make sales, it’s not something I’m relying on to make a living or anything, but I feel like I had to put it out there. I think it’s a jumping off point for other projects and opening this shop, however small and tight the collection is for now, is making me feel accountable to get some of the other ideas going.

Small steps, right?

Birthday parties, Brooklyn block parties, a family visit, and a trip to the new Pier 6 playground at Brooklyn Bridge Park that was cut short by rain. I think we spent more time on the B63 bus getting there than we spent at the actual playground seeing as we had to turn around and get right back on the bus after feeling the first couple of rain drops 20 minutes in.

I’m on my way to feeling almost normal again. I’m finally able to eat and we had a really nice week long visit with Mark’s mom. Mark’s been working long hours every day since our Etsy feature last weekend getting all those orders out and miraculously, even with all the orders that came in (and there were more than we’ve ever had), they all went out within a few days. We’ve even had 2nd orders from new customers already. But you know what? It wasn’t crazy or painful or overwhelming and Mark pretty much handled it entirely himself (how does he do it??). Maybe we’re getting better and faster at this. I remember in our first year feeling totally killed by Daily Candy, Mother’s Day, and the holidays. It was quite literally, painful, and I wondered how long we could last packing cookies late into the night…for how long?

We’ve got a busy next few days pushing Father’s Day orders out (this year is the first year Father’s Day gifts have outnumbered Mother’s Day gifts!), but we’ve got it all under control.

Mia had her first ballet recital yesterday. It reminded me that I have, perhaps, a lifetime of opportunities to sit in the audience and watch my kids perform – in school, at recitals, performances, math leagues, whatever. It really hits you on occasions like these, that you’re a parent. Not so much the everyday, walking your kid to school, giving your kid a snack kind of stuff, but this.

It also reminded me of myself at that age taking ballet for a couple of years. We used to have formal pictures taken, something that we did every year, in our fancy tutus and leotards. We’d be instructed to pose and the photographers would snap a photo, much like class photos that you’d bring home from school. I remember overhearing one year, the photographer whispering to her assistant “that kid is really awkward and gangly”. She was talking about me, age 7 or so, as they were trying different poses to get a shot. I wasn’t supposed to hear that and they probably don’t think I heard, but I still remember that comment to this day and how it made me feel.

Just remember that kids hear everything. Some throw-away comment might make an indelible impression on young minds. They’re not as stupid or unaware as you think.

Dear friends, I’m finally emerging, I think, from a really dark place. It’s not so much the “stuff” that’s happened, though I can say that this has been a pretty crappy year so far in many respects, but at its worst, your mind and imagination can be your enemy. I don’t recall ever going through such debilitating daily turmoil, but I think I have turned a corner after a few traumatic weeks, finally.

Sometimes, however, life has a way keeping you on your toes when you start getting comfortable. After some not so good news earlier this week, I’m left wondering what to do with myself. I’ve been through this before, I’ll survive, but I have to laugh because I feel like this has been a year of tests. On the upside, I’ll have time to breathe and refocus on some things that I’ve been putting off. I’ll try to enjoy the summer and regroup later. The important thing is that I’m feeling lighter in my heart and mind these days. The rest of life? You just have to fly with it.

Thanks to Christie, Nichole, Liza, Alison and mom.

Central Park and Prospect Park might be larger and more grand, but Bryant Park has my heart. Located right behind the majestic New York City Public Library in midtown, it’s a perfect one city block long oasis of grass lined with tables and chairs, fountains, a carousel, gardens and an outdoor reading room. Unlike Central and Prospect Park, you never forget that you’re in an urban setting when you’re spread out on the lawn – 360 degree views of buildings and skyscrapers loom above you on all sides, but it’s bucolic all the same. Plus, it feels a little like Paris, no?

Remind me never to go to a place like the South Street Seaport on a holiday weekend like Memorial Day, but that’s exactly what we did. I haven’t been there in well over 10 years since the time Mark lived down there when we first moved to NY. He shared a small, dark apartment with a college friend and it was one of those situations where he was camped out in the living room. I think all of us New Yorkers lived in some sort of crazy, cramped living situation like that at some point or another. But last weekend we wanted to check out the Water Taxi Beach, one of 3 here in the city (the other 2 are on Governor’s Island and Long Island City in Queens), but I had sort of forgotten that the Seaport is always crowded, loud and full of tourists. DJs spinning music, beer flowing everywhere. It’s like a party zone at all times.

Which is exactly how I remember it, always. The Seaport’s another place from the past that conjures up old memories – this time, high school. It’s not like I came here a lot so I don’t really understand where the association comes from, but maybe it’s because my friends and I ended up at the Seaport very early in the morning after staying out all night after going to some club like the Tunnel or the Limelight the evening of the Prom (or is it just “Prom”? It always bothered me in Pretty and Pink when Andi would say “what ABOUT PROM, BLAINE!? what ABOUT PROM!?”). I remember feeling tired, but still buzzed from the excitement of being allowed to stay out all night for the first time. This might have been pre-breakfast, but we all just walked around the boardwalk and gazed at the water, caught in those few rare hours sandwiched between late night bar hoppers and early morning merchants when the Seaport was quiet and calm.

Ah, (the) Prom. It’s Prom season you know and I thought about the Prom as we were eating oysters and drinking beer on the sand at the Seaport. It’s not like I went with a boyfriend so it was innocent enough since I went with a friend of my best friend’s boyfriend – an Irish Catholic boy with red hair who reminded me a little like a young Johnny Lydon, Public Image Ltd days. Our Prom was held at the ballroom of the Waldorf Astoria, one of those old grand, NYC Art Deco hotels that’s maybe considered a little tacky cheesy these days, but for a high school Prom? It was quite grand. We rented a limo (of course). My dress was black (of course). I had constructed it from 2 cocktail dresses that I found at one of those Broadway Vintage stores in the Village – maybe Unique or Canal Jeans (I know, that is SOOO Pretty in Pink). I also made a prom dress for a friend of mine, but hers was a vision of soft pale yellow tulle, floaty and light. Mine was the opposite of that, strapless, black, with a tulle petticoat underneath and as goth as I could make it without trying to scare anyone. I wore pointy patent leather heels. My hair was dyed jet black and short with bangs. The inspiration for the hair at that time was the Jesus and Mary Chain. Thank god I don’t have any pictures anymore.

But high school was like that. I went to a large Catholic school in Queens. The student body was about 3000 kids and when you have that many kids, you have a lot of different cliques – you know, the jocks and the cheerleaders, the academic stars, the drama kids, the math and science geeks, the marching band, the heavy metal kids, and the art crowd, among others. We didn’t even have to wear uniforms until our Junior year when the neighbors complained that the Catholic School kids in the neighborhood were running around with long hair and rock band t-shirts (true). Even then, the school only mandated a half uniform (to ease us in, I guess???) so we wore whatever shirt we wanted with our Catholic school pleated skirts. The Art/Goth/New Wave/Drama kids wore the skirts as long as it came, with collared shirts buttoned up all the way to the neck and often with some sort of vintage brooch and granny cardigan. The cheerleaders wore their skirts as short as they could get away with it. I got busted by one of the nuns once with a uniform violation for altering my skirt on a sewing machine. This still makes me chuckle.

In high school, I straddled across a bunch of cliques – the academics, the school band and sometimes drama, but I was most definitely with the art crowd. Our school was big on music and art and you knew who the art kids were because we’d lug around these big, ridiculous black portfolios from class to class like some sort of status thing or maybe it was a shield to hide behind, much like our floppy bangs. Unlike perhaps a lot of people, I loved high school. The last year and a half was filled with art classes and hanging out with our art teachers in their classrooms. They were like our friends, in their late 20s and early 30s listening to the same music as we did and even letting us drop in at 2am one Friday night (what my friends and I were doing driving around at 2am, never mind dropping in on our art teacher’s apt, I don’t even know).

But my favorite art teacher was Mr. M. He also happened to be my homeroom teacher so we spent a lot of time together throughout my high school years. Mr. M had his groupies and we even had a nickname for ourselves, but we weren’t groupies because of some silly adolescent teacher/student crush. Mr. M was married and had 2 little kids, drove to school over an hour each way with a long commute outside the city and busted his ass on a second job on the weekends to support his family. He was just really, really cool and the best art teacher ever. We loved hearing stories about the funny things his kids did or said, debating over Joy Division vs. New Order, singing Depeche Mode songs, and confiding in all our high school angst and problems. He was our mentor, our first real role model for what a cool adult and parent was like and a true friend, a friendship that we would maintain for years after we graduated from high school. As much as he influenced me during those years, he repeatedly told me later on that I inspired him too – to want to paint, draw, and create art again, not as a teacher, but for himself.

Mr. M, I know you’re not reading this. I don’t know where you are and by now your kids are adults and you are much older yourself, as we all are, but I still think of you and remember fondly, the days spent talking and drawing in your art room. I think about you when I’m telling Claudine and Mia stories, just as you told B & J stories back then. Those were good times, some of the best ever. I hope you are out there, well and ok.

But a lot of you know it’s really been 18 years (last year’s anniversary post here), although we got married “only” 8 years ago today in Hawaii. (mmmm…how many of you want to be in Hawaii right about now?).

18 years is a long time to know someone, so if I could talk to my former self knowing what I know now, what would I say?

—

It’s ok to fight once in awhile. It’s healthy, even.

Take some pictures, damn it! You’ll wish you had them to look back on when you were both long-haired youths. Also, don’t keep Mark’s hair for months after he cuts it. It’s sorta creepy even if you are superstitious about someone making a voodoo doll out of the hair or whatever you were worried about.

Your 24 year old problems aren’t that bad so stop worrying and being so grumpy about it. Because you’re going to have some real problems when you’re an adult and you’re going to have to learn how to cope and deal with it. Start learning how now.

Don’t nag so much. You’re just lucky he’s not the type to complain about the nagging.

Travel more. Go overseas to Asia. Because once you start having kids and your own business, you’re not really going to have the chance to travel much again.

Sleep. Sleep now while you can.

Don’t wait till you’re 30 to start saving money. That was real stupid to wait so long because you could have had more money in the bank at age 40 if you started saving when you got your first job out of college.

Talk to each other. Don’t just make major decisions about your life on your own (like moving back to NY) and then just announce them. Make decisions together.

Don’t waste your time wondering if he’ll ever go bald or develop a beer gut and become one of those skinny fat people. He won’t.

Even though your small Hawaii wedding was relatively cheap, don’t spend 3k on your wedding dress, even if your aunt was generous enough to pay for it as a gift. Because your brother is going to step on it and rip it right after the reception and you’re just going to hang it up at your parent’s house and never look at it again. Spend the money elsewhere or save it.

It doesn’t really matter that you think you have little in common in terms of pop culture references. So what if he can’t recall any episode of the Brady Bunch or share how the deep lyrics of Morrissey or Robert Smith saved you in high school or get any quotable references of any John Hughes movie. That stuff doesn’t matter later on and it won’t play a factor in any major life decisions that need to be made.

Don’t worry so much about any lack of ambition that you might think he has. Because he’s going to prove that he’s a harder worker than anyone you know and you’ll discover that actually, of the 2 of you, you’re the lazier one.

Don’t question whether or not you’re making the right choice. You won’t be rich and have a country house and you won’t ever get to be a stay-at-home mom, but you’ll have a nice life and 2 of the cutest and smartest kids you’ll ever meet. Money is not everything.

—
We’re not really big on gifts and stuff on anniversaries, so we’re just all going out for a family sushi meal. The weekend has been given over to Etsy orders anyway, but things are actually quite calm and manageable. Oh, and this goofy picture? Mark and I can’t take a good photo of ourselves if our life depended on it. I had considered it for our Etsy feature, but decided last minute to use the one with Claudine just because it makes me laugh. Also, I am standing on a box. Mark is 6’3″ and I am 5’6″. Just in case you were wondering…

I know. The Whimsy & Spice site has been down for awhile now. What’s up live is the vintage site, pre-ecommerce, circa summer of 2008. So what’s taking so long you wonder (or not)? It took us awhile to migrate to the new server. I had been sitting on this since we moved the blog over to the new server in April, but I wanted to wait after Mother’s Day to move the e-commerce site. I was in the middle of doing that 2 weeks ago. Our W&S site is on the new server now, but because of busy schedules and some health issues, I’ve been waiting patiently for our trusty programmer to finish the migration and rebuild and update our site.

It’s been a lesson in patience. Everything we do for the business is handled in-house: Mark bakes, ships, packages and delivers and I do everything else: photos, labels, design. This means that we’re self sufficient and don’t have to wait around for anyone’s schedules but ours to clear before things get done. But we do outsource the programming. And so we wait.

But can I be honest? If I were in a desperate rush, I suppose I would have hired someone else (I’m loyal to the people I work with, however), but I have to say that this little break from orders off our site has been welcome. It’s not to say that Mark hasn’t been busy. All our other shops on etsy and foodzie are open, as well as wholesale and the Flea, so he’s been busy enough, but that’s the point. When you own your own business, when do you ever get a break?

You don’t.

So, that’s why our site has been down so long. It’s one part waiting for the right resources to line up and 1 part calculated to give ourselves a little break.

Because come noon EST today, Friday, it’s gonna be madness.

Update: Yes, we’re Etsy featured seller! OMG, you guys…