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The Race is on

The race is coming to a climax. NO, not that race. We don’t talk about politics in Monner’s Mumbling’s. I’m talking about the race to get out of our building before we need to pay another month’s rent.

The move has been a complete family affair, not to mention all the help we have had from customers. (We will talk about that more in a minute.) Ivy (and others) pack the yarn into tubs. Before she could pack, I search every store in the area for more and then again more tubs. I know, we could have ordered them online from the Nile online ordering place. I’ve told you, I buy local when I can. You should, too. Was that political?

The loaded tubs were loaded in the back of Ivy’s teenie-tiny blue non-SUV and then taken to our storage containers. Shelving units were loaded in the back of Girl Twin’s big ol’ 4WD pickup truck, which is currently only 2WD because the transfer case is broken and needs $2500 of repairs. Are you starting to see why we don’t want another month of rent?

After each day of extremely taxing construction work, I take a pickup load of stuff to be donated to the thrift stores. If you ever noticed the mezzanine in our store, we had stuff stashed up there. Stuff like a couch, a dishwasher, knitting needles, office supplies, holiday ornaments, yes, even a 5-gal bucket of baseballs. All this stuff needed/needs to go somewhere.

I would like to thank everyone that bought furniture and stuff (Including yarn, needles and knitting stuff) We know that we inconvenienced some of you greatly. Taking the 10 (or so) customers looms out of the store couldn’t have been easy for you guys. Thank you.

This beervirus thing was rough on Your Daily Fiber. Being closed for four or five weeks, really can hurt your finances. Rent, electricity internet, continue on. Not to mention car payments, food, and you know, stuff.

With the world in lock-down product was hard to get. Ivy actually waited over four months for a customer’s yarn coming from a factory in a nearby state.

Now, it’s time to get a little emotional. Those of you that know me, might know that as a youngster I fell in love (figuratively) with a vagabond singer from Texas (actually New Jersey, but they’re both US states). Most of this singer’s songs were ballads of his life’s experiences. Stories that he told about his travels. Maybe they were dreams but sometimes I saw myself on similar paths in some of the stories as he sang.

One story he told was he was sitting in a bar (underage) in New Jersey. Sitting at the bar, in the middle of the day was a regular bar patron. They struck up a conversation. The singer shared that he hated his life and was at a loss of what to do. The long-time bar patron offered this advice.

Patron: Son, you need to leave.

Singer: Where do I go? Patron: Try south, you decide. Singer: When? Patron: When you’ve finished that beer.

The singer left the bar and started walking south, he didn’t return home for years.

Speaking for my family, we’ve finished our beer. We are walking to a new Your Daily Fiber. We will miss the old Your Daily Fiber, but we are looking forward to the new one. We hope you walk with us.

As I woke up yesterday morning, one of the first things Elaine said to me, was my singer had died the day before. Elaine and I talked about not having a chance for one last concert. This year really (construction language). RIP JJW.

I/we want to thank all the helpers, packers and inventory-ers. (Not a word.) Carol and Melody, big thanks.

After getting three loads of stuff (including the refrigerator) relocated, Elaine and Ivy decided to go to dinner the restaurant up the road. As I sat down at the table, I noticed a couple families already seated at their tables. Sitting alone was a dark-skinned mountain of a man. His clothes were dirty from an obvious day of physical work. Although the temperature was in the lower forties, this man was wearing a sleeveless shirt showing some pretty impressive arms and shoulders covered with tattoos. Most noticeable of all was the knife hanging from his belt.

A women joined this man at his table. It was nice to see he wasn’t alone.

Elaine, Ivy and I finished our meal and I went to the waitress station to pay. The waitress informed me that someone in the restaurant had paid for our drinks. In fact they had paid for everyone’s drinks. I inquired, “It was the big guy, wasn’t it?” she nodded in the affirmative.

I walked over to Big Guy and said, “Thanks’ man. You didn’t need to.” He simply replied, “God Bless you.” I returned to our table and told Elaine and Ivy what had happened. Elaine said, “I need to thank him, also.” Elaine walked up to the table, put a hand on his massive shoulder and said “Thanks, can I ask why?” He removed her hand, kissed it and said, “I made $200 hundred dollars today, I can share. God bless you.”

I have nothing more to say.

God Bless. RIP Jerry Jeff.

Our crazy lives!



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