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It's been 17 hour days, breathing in a lot of dust, and worrying about whether or not we are going to pay for the check that will come due at the end of this whole venture. We're putting a yoga studio together. Why can't it be like the old days where you fry up some chicken, invite the neighbors over and raise the barn in a day, with plenty of time left over for square dancing and smoking behind said barn? Perhaps that's because those we'd recruit to "raise" the studio are much more familier with lycra and yoga props than construction belts and radial disk saws. We're laying floors; ripping down ceilings; painting; sanding; installing insulation, light fixtures, sinks, and toilets; all the while trying to negotiate leases, bank accounts, credit reports, advertising, T-shirts, promo-events, printing, logos, web design, phone systems (don't let me get going on that!) bla bla bla. All this with the mandate to get this done last week. Tempers are rising and "om" is being replaced with, "oh, shit!" This is the challenge that has presented it self (or should I say most accurately, the challenge that we chose), and "success" will be determined when we open our doors if we still have wits enough to understand our victory. In other news . . . I played the sax at the Farmer's Market and made a cool 80 bone in tips, sold all of my CD, AND scored a gig playing for a ritzy party with the ACLU. That's rewarding. I love playing with Brig. He's such a riot. I tried out a new bass player, Dough Wright. He was solid but his personality is cached. We've just met, and it takes a while to understand each other musically. OM goanna pound you with this here hammer! [2003-09-10]
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