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The Quarterback, His Trailer and a Bunch of Ladies

Your Daily Fiber has moved to a new location.

This is not a story of why we decided to move the store. This is a story about moving the store. You know, like picking up the furniture and moving it to another building. Before I get started, I would like to thank everyone that helped. I would also, like to thank everyone that volunteered and either got sick, forgot it was moving day, changed their minds or simply found something better to do. Seriously, we had plenty of help.

Of course, just to help with the rumors, I will offer this about the reason for moving. Shopping for rental space 3 years ago, I thought College Ave. was a great place. I have changed my opinion on that one. There is a tremendous amount of traffic on College Ave. That had to be great, or maybe not so much. The place was just the right size, or maybe we should have been bigger. We would be in the middle of downtown festivals, or maybe yarn isn’t what people buy at beer festivals. The truth is we tried to buy a new place 18 months ago. Unfortunately, our lease on College Ave. prevented us from closing the deal.

Anyway, here is the fun stuff.

I boldly predicted I/we could move the store in two days. Well , step back non-believers! Oh yeah, I also planned on doing this project without professional movers. What I didn’t plan on was the average age of the movers. Forget average age, we had exactly one mover that has not seen at least five decades. That was my lovely daughter, Ivy. With that in mind, Your Daily Fiber was open for business after closing for only two days.

I had two male friends helping me with the heavy stuff. One of them I met in Kindergarten. Not my children's or grandchildren's Kindergarten. My Kindergarten! I have known Greg for over 50 years! I knew Greg was going to be pretty good help as he was quite an athlete when we were younger. Greg could dunk a basketball before he reached a height of six feet tall. That is some serious leaping ability.

I’m not sure he doesn’t regret all that leaping. Greg has had one hip replaced and is waiting for the other hip to be replaced. Perfect candidate for helping move a yarn store.

I met the other male helper in third grade. Yep, my third grade. I learned a lot from Brad. He brought construction language to elementary school. He taught the junior high how to smoke, (something he still does), set the fashion standards for the school, (I didn’t learn that lesson very well), and was the best athlete I have ever known. He could hit a baseball, (so could I, I add that because I have an ego problem), run, pole vault, and played quarterback for an undefeated high school team, before he moved to Texas.

As an adult he moved back to Fort Collins. After he broke his back and crushed a leg. Do you want to know how? Moving….a refrigerator. More about that later.

I thought I was in charge of moving the store. Wrong! Brad was outside the store, with his trailer on the sidewalk before anyone else (including us) arrived. He immediately became the quarterback again. He was calling plays. “Move this, pick that up, grab that, put that on the trailer!”

We have two spinning wheels in the store over 150 years old. Brad grabbed the small one.

Me: Hey bud, that wheel is 150 years old. Brad: Somebody get over here and get this this on the trailer, I’m not touching it.

Brad arranged stuff on the trailer for transport. If there was a space on the trailer, Brad found something to stick in it. No matter how hard he had to push, Then he would proudly announce, “fit’s like a glove!”

The store has a full size refrigerator. It was time to move it. Brad and I were going to move it up the stairs.

Greg (to Brad): Does this bring back bad memories? Brad: Greg, your hip is acting up, Monner, you get on the top of the stairs and I’ll push it up to you!

Brad pushed the refrigerator, hard. The refrigerator (and Brad) knocked me to the ground.

Me: Wait, wait, wait, (add construction language here) Brad: Sorry, I didn’t want it to slide back on me. Me: Don’t worry I’m OK.

I love those guys. I think the women yarn packers had a better time.

Our crazy lives!


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