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  • Writer's pictureTina

Growing Pains II

As I sit here watching the snowfall, I am contemplating how my week will look. We will make moisturizers today, as well as cut, stamp, and stack soap. The hope is our inventory will be fulfilled enough to take a break from making products to begin our cleaning/overhaul of both the garage and the studio. This is a project I have been anxious to start, and finally, The Bibbed Wonder agrees. We anticipate this project will take us two weeks, but we're probably looking at a month with my poor judgment and time management.

You see, the soap studio still houses my dad's workbench and some of his tools. There are industrial cabinets and toolboxes he picked up at auctions, as well as a collection of his deer antlers from over the years. Eric put his toolboxes in the same place that my dad kept his toolboxes, and that side of the garage looks very much like it did when my dad was alive...fifteen years ago. The Bibbed Wonder and I have had a few heated arguments over what will happen to all my dad's stuff and his workbench. It has taken over a year for either of us to compromise what we feel is best. I believe we have finally reached a compromise that will please both of us while preserving my dad's memories.

I struggle with the idea of undoing what my dad has done. My dad has no headstone, no grave. His business that was his life's work was dismantled and no longer exists. There is no monument to the man I hold in such high esteem. I feel as though there are people who work to eradicate his very existence from this earth because they are bitter and self-absorbed. There are certain things that I hold dear, and his very messy workbench is one of those things. The only thing that gives me comfort is knowing my dad would think I am silly for maintaining such an impractical shrine. I can hear him now saying, "Weiner, don't be silly! That workbench doesn't make me any more or less here. Use your head, girl, as hard as it is, and build your business." By the way, my nickname when I was growing up was Weiner. Weiner is what my dad always called me. I knew I was in trouble if he called me Tina. I knew I was in epic trouble if he called my Christina.

This week will be filled with hard work, very emotional, and hopefully productive. I plan to document the progress with photos and keep everyone up to date on Facebook. I'm sure there will be tears involved, but I'll reserve the ugly crying for the shower...nobody likes ugly crying. I am grateful this is a step we need to make, but it is fraught with emotion. On this frigid, snowy Monday, dear reader, I hope your week looks warm, productive, and satisfying. As always, stay safe, stay smart, and keep washing those hands.

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