Few things

August 16th.
That's the last time I wrote? Impossible.
I'm sure it was just last week.
In typical Emily fashion, I've managed to cram a kajillion things into the last 2 months. I'll tell you about them now if you like.


It's safe to say I have completely adjusted to life without the store.
Not once have I felt any sense of remorse or regret. Only relief really. And a small pining to start decorating for Christmas.
I suppose I could just do that in my own damn house. Though I never get anything done there. So I guess not everything has changed.


So what am I doing with myself now you wonder?
Back in August I started working out of the Humm. I was there 2.5 days a week just pretty much using up their oxygen and taking up a desk space while I continued with my freelance writing.
They also offered me a column in the paper. Maybe I told you about that.
It's an advice column where I get to just make shit up and occasionally impart some of my marketing/business know how. Which I love 
I very much hope no one heeds anything I write in there.
I've written two now.
You can find it on Page 6 here.
I have a scan too, but it's not the best.

It's been fun to stretch my creative writing muscle with something that's slightly heavier lifting than a headline here and there. Hopefully nobody gets hurt.


After a few weeks of getting very comfortable leaving my children to work in an office environment, I decided to branch out further. One of my very best friends and her mother own Mahogany Salon and Spa in both Stittsville and, now, Carleton Place.
I've been helping them with their ad work since they opened over 7 years ago from a distance, and I thought it might be worth everyone's while if I pitched myself as their in-house marketing and merchandising girl.
I put together a little proposal and they took the bait.


So now, I'm not at the Humm anymore. I'm still writing, but now I'm at Mahogany 3 days a week.
Things are good. 
I love what I'm doing (something different everyday really), it's a beautiful space, and every now and then I sneak upstairs to get my nails did.
I feel like I really have my you know what together.


It was a busy transition figuring out a new schedule with the kids, but we're in the swing of things now and I feel like I'm contributing to society once again.


I'm actually twice published this month. 
So, you know, whatev.
We squeezed a Handmade Harvest article in there too.

It was a joint effort between me and Colleen for the record.
That girl doesn't always get the props she deserves.

With less than a month until the show, we're getting pretty jazzed up.
We try to be better with each event. Offering our vendors as much as possible to help them be inspired and successful.
One of the things Colleen and I both love to swoon over is creative merchandising ideas.
We went hunting for inspiration online and found the mother load on this site.
Also, gotta love Flickr.

Have a peek.
Hope to see you at the show in November!
And hope to write before then!

Em

Knock Knock

I have been wanting to share this hilarious post for weeks now.
I discovered it via a Facebook friend and then a week later someone asked me if I sold any 10 foot metal chickens. (That makes more sense if I tell you I still owned the store at this point.)

Because I had read this I knew why she wanted one.
And you will too once you check out genius that is The Bloggess.

New favourite blog?
Could be.

Try to keep up

Oh my god. This post is like the ball of hair clogging my shower drain.
Until I get it out, every things going to get backed up.

I have been wanting to write about a zillion things!
But I felt like until I caught up on all the missing pieces I couldn't write something new.

First things first, I am no longer the owner of Blackbird.

That transition has somewhat overshadowed both my trip to NYC and our family excursion (read: nightmare in the woods) to the cottage.

Although, I must say, I am surprisingly unsentimental about the whole thing.

It's possible I'm in a bit of shock.

But overall, it feels like 100% the right move for me.

Last week Leslie called in sick and it was the first time ever that something like that hasn't put me in a state of panic. Instead, I was able to stay home with the kids and we ended up spending the day at a friend's cottage enjoying the sunshine.

How lovely it is not to be on a schedule.

But back to my list of things to talk about.

New Yawk.

Despite being over a month ago, I do actually remember the trip.

I'll start by saying that since Clemmie was born, it's been difficult for me to enjoy a vacation. 

I find I need at least 24 hours to just get into a new groove of chilling the heck out, catching up on my sleep and adjuting to having the time to myself. 

I find I kind of need some alone time for the first little bit.
It's such a drastic change to being at home that I need some serious, isolation chamber style quiet time to switch mind frames.

I was in good shape by the time we arrived in Newark.

Not rested exactly, but excited and pumped to spend time with Melissa nonetheless.

The incredible view from Amy's apartment in Soho.

And so began our much anticipated weekend in NYC.

Or, what I like to call, the vacation equivalent to falling up a set of stairs (or something equally annoying, embarrassing, and almost impossible not to laugh at).

You see, no matter how hard we both tried, New York was out to make us look like tourists.

Or idiots.

Possibly both.

Every excursion was wrought with complications.

The first morning we decided to go for breakfast. 

Simple enough.

We were just a few blocks North of Katz Deli where the famous Meg Ryan orgasm scene from When Harry met Sally was shot.

Naturally, we walked 5 blocks East before realizing we had taken a wrong turn.

Happens to the best of us.
At least we got to take in a little New York scenery.

I couldn't help but take a picture of all the fire escapes.

Not to mention find the BEST coffee in New York.

What luck!

The moment (30 dewey minutes later) that we arrived at the deli was when we faced the real challenge.

Not only was there a turnstile with an attendant (this place has completely let it's 15 minutes of fame go to it's head and is way commercialized now, trading cozy booths for cafeteria tables) but there was a completely unmarked spot where you placed your order, another place where you picked up your coffee, an off limits seating section if you wanted to be served instead of serving yourself, and you didn't pay until your way out.
Phewf.

Apparently everyone else who goes there is a psychic, because damned if we knew what the hell we were doing.

After breakfast, determined to hit up a New York City style flea market, we took the Subway (which is way more complicated than the north, south, east, west format we're accustomed to in Toronto) uptown to Hells Kitchen. True to it's name in early July, it was a hotter than hell but authentically adorable market, of which I took no pictures but Melissa did. 

Because Melissa is good like that.

As far as landmarks, bike riding in Central Park was a definite highlight.

But it wasn't exactly free of adversity either.

First of all, we hit this hot spot on the last day of our trip, so we definitely had to keep an eye on the clock. We got there (after taking the long way on the Subway due to line closures...shocker) at about 12:30pm and decided to rent bikes.

You know. Because we're athletes.

In Central Park you can rent bikes for $15 an hour.
Which totally sounds easy. And it would be if this was a real business.
Instead, it's really just a bunch of random dudes with bicycles.
We tracked one guy down, but of course he only had one bike left, so though securing one was simple enough, we had to get the second by strapping on a little blind faith and following one of the aforementioned rando's down a street, and then another street, and then into a parking garage.

I know. That's exactly how people get killed on Law and Order, but it was ok.
There were other people doing it.
And I don't think any of them were crack addicts. Not that you can always tell.
In the end we both got bikes, and we both were able to tick "bike around Central Park" off our bucket lists.
Awesome.

By 2pm we decided we better get our shit in gear and head back downtown to get ourselves packed and ready to head to the airport.
Our goal was to be back at Amy's and out of there with our suitcases by 4pm, to Time Square to catch the Newark Airport Shuttle around 4:30 and to the airport with an hour to spare.
But the problem with New York is...well two things actually.
1. It's full of things to sidetrack you because,
2. Who knows when you'll be back there again!?

Long story short, we didn't end up leaving the apartment until 4:15, were presented with a Subway that had to go south before it would go north, and we missed our 5:15 shuttle by about 30 seconds.
We didn't get on the next shuttle until 5:45pm.
Did I mention we were in Time Square?
Which is basically the most populated place in the universe.

Did I also mention that our technically INTERFREAKINGNATIONAL flight was at 6:30?

At this point Melissa and I kind of stopped talking.
We weren't mad at each other. It was no ones fault really.
We just knew there was absolutely nothing we could say that could help the situation.

Besides, when you're both thinking the same thing what's the use?

So we're sitting in New York City traffic sweating bullets.
I have a connecting flight to catch to Ottawa.
At this point, it would seriously take a miracle to get to the airport before the plane took off, forget about actually getting through security and boarding!
6:15 we arrive at the airport and are standing at the check in desk, where a very friendly attendant takes our boarding passes and frowns sympathetically.

"I'm sorry. This plane has already boarded."
Of course it has.
"Ok." I say. "We realize we're very late. I have a connecting flight to catch in Toronto. Do we have any options at all?"


And all I have to say about what happened next is that it's true. You definitely catch more flies with honey.
Because didn't that sweet woman just pick up her phone, call the boarding desk and ask them to hold the plane.
We ran.
We ran we ran we ran.
When we got to security and I threw my hands in the air for my body scan, the guard looked curiously at me and said "Ma'am. Can I ask why you look so nervous?"
Shit. I thought. I'm breathing like a goddamn drug smuggler!


"Well, technically we've missed our plane sir." I explained. "We're holding out hope that we might still catch it!"
"Better get moving then." He replied.
American's rule!

Long story long, we made it.
On the flight home we decided that despite all the other little blips we dealt with on our vacation, we actually have very good luck when it counts.

Also, we like stripes.
Even if they make us look wide.

And that was New York.

Now the cottage.
I'm going to keep this really short because I kind of don't want to remember it.
Brad and I rented a cottage about an hour from home for one week. Saturday to Saturday.

Insert two kids, a huge thunderstorm, a power outage, the hottest week of the summer, an attempt to potty train, a 2.5 year old who had to sleep in a playpen she's outgrown, the same 2.5 year old hopped up on candies earned by actually using said potty, numerous screaming fits and two parents frustrated by their vision of a weekend sipping caesars on a dock being blown to smithereens (underused word!).

We came home Tuesday.
We didn't talk to one another until Wednesday.
And we decided to make the best of what was left of our time off by Thursday.

And that was the cottage.
We'll try again in 17 years maybe. Maybe 2.

There.
I got it out.
Welcome to my new blog address.

I hope you'll follow!
Em

New Blog Address

For obvious reasons I'll be changing my blog address.
Just in case I do it wrong (and it's very likely I will), bookmark sketchesofasmalltown.blogspot.com.

I'm sure there is a better, more efficient way of doing the switch so I don't lose any readers, but damned if I know what it is.

xo Em (on my last day in the shop!)

Blog to Go

Sitting in the Porter lounge in Toronto waiting on Melissa and our connecting flight to New York, taking advantage of the "Business Lounge".

It's just after 7am and already it's been a bit of a trying day.
As we took off from Ottawa I couldn't help but imagine that the plane might crash.
And not just because I pretty much always feel that way when I'm on an airplane.
But because so many odds seemed to stack themselves against me this morning!
My strategy?
Ignore ignore. Delete delete.

So when we didn't hear Brad's phone alarm at 4am this morning and he miraculously woke up on his own (and then woke me) at 4:30 instead, I thought to myself "Okay, alright, okayyyy, it's alright. You can't turn back time. Just keep moving as though 4:30 was the original plan".

I got up, fed the baby without really waking him for the day (I hope anyway. I don't really know. I didn't stick around to see if he fell back to sleep.)

I was on the road by 5am, at the Park n' Fly by 5:40, and at the Porter check in desk by 5:50.

Speed bump number two: I happen to notice as I'm whizzing past the flight board that the Porter 6:45am flight says CANCELLED in big bold letters beside it.
Again my "ignore" strategy comes in handy.
Because how can you freak out about something that you refuse to take note of? It's nearly impossible.
Besides, I've paid for a flight.
I have my itinerary in hand.
New York's not going anywhere.
Certainly this is someone else's problem.

Kink in the plans number three: Disgruntled Porter agent on a mission to ruin someone's day...but not mine!
Our conversation:
Me: "Good morning!" (handing over itinerary and passport)


Grumpy Bum: (staring down my luggage) "Even if you're taking that as a carry on you still have to put it on the scale."

Me: "Oh. Sorry. (putting luggage on scale) Um. So I did the pre-check in online, but wasn't able to print it. I should be checked in already."

Grumpy Bum: (checking her computer) "Your flight is cancelled."

Me: "Sooooooo. What are my options?"

Grumpy Bum: "I'll have to put you on the 6:15am"

Me: "Perfect. Glad I got here in time."

Grumpy Bum: "Did you input your info online yourself?"

Me: "Yes"

Grumpy Bum: "Well your information is all wrong. This passport number doesn't match. What number did you enter?"

Me: (pointing to BIG BOLD NUMBERS at the TOP of my passport) "Those ones"

Grumpy Bum: "That's not your passport number. Now you've locked me out of the system because I have to correct your mistake."

Me: "Well that's unfortunate. Sorry about that."

Grumpy Bum: "Hey Linda. You won't be able to check your customer in for a minute. This passenger has me locked out of the system."

Me: (to myself) "I'm totally reporting you. Nadiaaaa"


Grumpy Bum: "Ok. I'm holding the plane for you (keep in mind I was early for my original flight). Your connecting flight is at 8:45am.

Me: "Um. My itinerary says 9:45."

Grumpy Bum: "No ma'am. Your flight to Newark is at 8:45am"

Me: (passing her my dog earred itinerary) "I'm meeting a friend in Toronto and we're flying together. We've already picked the seats and everything."

Grumpy Bum: (silently ticking away at her keyboard. I can literally see the smoke coming from her ears. Literally. Never seen anything like it. She hands me my boarding pass. Says nothing.)


Me: "So. What flight am I on then?"

Grumpy Bum: "The same one."

Me: (oh my god I'm going to murder this woman) "The same one I originally booked? Or the same one you just told me?"

Grumpy Bum: "The same one."

Seriously?
She couldn't just tell me the time?
It suddenly hit me that with my boarding pass in hand I didn't need her to tell me anymore, I could just look at what was printed on the ticket.
It said 9:45am.
I looked at her, gave her a cheery "Thanks so much!" which in no way matched the glare on my face and rolled away.

People!
I don't think this is a good representation of Porter however. Everyone else I've encountered has been lovely.

The man trying to get me down example four: I am randomly selected for a full body scan and pat down at security.
I instantly regret not answering "Yes" to the "Do you have any liquids?" question.
It's just contact solution.
I can't be bothered to hunt down a convenience store when we get to New York.
My first visit to the big apple is way too glamourous for something like that.
In New York, I have perfect vision. Laser eye surgery. 20/20.
Besides, if they find it, I'll pretend I totally forgot.
I'll ignore it.

This isn't too much of a hassle really. Except that it's hard to play cool when you're being patted down and people are staring.
It took only a minute and nobody confiscated my contact stuff.
But by now it's 6:15 and apparently that's when the flight leaves, and even though I'm pretty sure they know I'm coming, part of me has to wonder if the aforementioned bitch called to let them know.

So far the trip ups seem to have ended.

The flight from Ottawa to Toronto was quick and painless, and Melissa will be here to keep me company any minute.

See you Sunday!
Em

The Beans

I have been waiting to write this post for about a week now.
If this blog is my diary, then I've been keeping something a secret from my diary.
My diary!
That's like the opposite of what a diary is for.

But I've become a little superstitious in my 32 years and what I've been working toward these past weeks is certainly not something I wanted to jinx.
At long last (I was waiting to cash the cheque) I can spill.

I've sold my store.
My baby.

Actually, it's become more of an old flame this past year.
Something I used to love passionately, but that my heart has started to wander from.

I have too many new relationships to nurture (Griffy, Handmade Harvest, multiple pie-in-the-sky ideas that make Brad think I'm a crazy person who just might bankrupt him one day) that it's time to set this love free.
That's what they say isn't it?
If you love someone set them free?
I'm sure that's got to apply to gift stores too right?

Another reason I've hesitated talking about it, is because I'm a bit overwhelmed by the whole thing.
I know it's the right decision, but who is Emily Arbour if not the owner of great little shop on Mill Street?
Sure it's only been 4.5 years of my life, but when you look at how concentrated these years have been with life changes (opening a store, getting married, moving to Almonte, having a baby, organizing a craft show, having another baby, organizing another craft show etc etc) it's hard to remember who I was before I had this lovely shop.

I have made connections with literally hundreds of people that I likely wouldn't never have met if it wasn't for my beloved bird.
I'm a bit lost just thinking about the fact that I've just put myself out of a job.
What will I do without somewhere to go every day?
The possibilities are simultaneously thrilling and terrifying.

For not one minute in the last 4+ years have I been bored.
As long as I have had the store, there has always been something that needed doing.

Whether it was building an "elf door" for Kid's Night, convincing a landlord to let me use his space for a Pop Up Shop or repurposing old scraps of fabric found at the Hub into jewelry bags, not a "day off" went by when I wasn't doing something to make the shop even better than it was the day before.

It's been a labour of love and I anticipate a bit of a hangover come midnight July 31st.

You heard right.
In less than a month, this will no longer by my store.
So how did this happen?
Even I'm not exactly sure.

I've been feeling overwhelmed for quite some time now.
It's just a lot to juggle and I found myself constantly on the verge of panic attacks with all the scheduling of kids and babysitters and staff and husbands (ok, that shouldn't be plural) and social lives.
Also, Clemmie started saying "Don't go to work!" every time I asked her for a kiss.
So there was that.

Brad had previously suggested that I consider selling the store, and he was always met with a "You don't understand!! Oh my god it's like you don't even know me! How can you be so insensitive?!" from me.

But the last time he mentioned it - after talking me down from yet another ledge from which I was crying "I just can't take care of everybody all the time!" - I actually considered it.

I thought about what that might mean to my family, and how it might feel to actually be able to do something for me on a weekend.
I would find myself looking longingly at couples who would come in to shop on Saturdays and daydreaming about what it must be like just to wander about taking time to explore.
Maybe have a coffee sitting down.
You know, the little things.

Also, as I've mentioned in previous posts, Almonte is going strong.
The new homes to dandelion ratio is neck and neck.
The local economy is on the rise.
The smart business person would get out while to going's good.

So I put it out there.
I picked a fair price, told 5 people who told 5 people and so on, and in 2 days I was meeting with a local woman who was interested in buying.
To my great surprise, I actually had multiple people interested.
This was really happening!

Two weeks later and the deal is done.
Come August 1st Blackbird will have a fabulous, enthusiastic, young, local new owner...and I'm thrilled.
I really think she'll be perfect.
I think you'll like her.

So that's that.
On to new things.
Blackbird was a stepping stone.
Change is good.
And all the rest.

Yes, Handmade Harvest will live on. (Apply now!)
Yes, I may still host the odd Pop Up Shop.
Yes, I will continue to write.

Who knows?! My blog might actually become more interesting to read now that I won't have to edit myself to protect my business. (I'll be redirecting to a new url shortly, so I hope you'll follow)
You can't imagine the stories I've been keeping from all of you.
You simply can't imagine.

xo Em

New York New York

I'm heading on my maiden voyage to NYC this weekend with Melissa.
Nope.
Never been.

An old TO friend of ours soooo generously offered up her downtown apartment for the weekend and we pounced!

And because I have Avion points coming out of the ying yang from all the spending I do for the shop (and no place to go!) basically, this trip is free.
I can't wait.

We have no agenda really.
Just loose plans to see a show, I'd like to hit up 30 Rock and Central Park, and Melissa is itching to check out the Kate Spade, but otherwise it's going to be a weekend of walking and eating and catching up.

Did I mention I can't wait?

Kate Spade NY Via

I haven't started packing yet because really, what can I pack that will be comfortable enough to walk around all day in, but cute enough not to look like a raging tourist?
What's nice is that I won't have to tailor my outfits for easy boob access, but even still, options are certainly limited.

I'll sort it out.
Maybe this time I'll even take pictures!

On a totally different note:
Should I be wearing lipstick?
I've always felt a bit weird wearing it.
Like who do I think I am wearing lipstick?
Like I'm playing dress up or something.

But I see beautiful, natural looking women wearing colour on their lips all the time.
In fact, since I started paying attention, it seems I'm the odd girl out.
I enjoy wearing a bit of gloss - when I can find it at the bottom of the diaper bag anyway - but I'm curious to know if I was sick the day someone taught us girls how to choose the right shade.
I should never have let my subscription to Sassy lapse like that!

Any advice you've got for me, I'd be happy to receive.
Otherwise, have a wonderful sunshine-y week.

Em