blog archive (2008)

Before I begin my story, I want to make clear that I am not a fried chicken person. I do not crave it. I do not enjoy eating it. To be perfectly honest, I have had two very disturbing events in my life involving others and their consumption of fried chicken drumsticks. Gross.

However, since the first time my mom and dad took us all to the Stroud's on 85th Street here in Kansas City, there was nothing I didn't like about their food. Now, to the best of my knowledge, I never ordered fried chicken; but what's not to love about mashed potatoes, seasoned green beans, awesome chicken noodle soup, amazing gravy, and hot cinnamon rolls? I think it was probably still in the '70s when first our family trucked out there, and it was a big, big deal.

It had been many years since our family had been to Stroud's, and just yesterday we made the pilgrimage again. It took a "vacation" week to get us all there together in the daytime.

My niece and her fried chicken.

Regrettably, the Stroud's on 85th is long gone due to road construction and capital improvements, but it was probably going to fall over anyway if someone didn't tear it down in the spirit of progress.

So we all met up at the new location in Fairway for a meal my sister dubbed "Chicken Feast". From a woman whose favorite meal is sushi, you can garner everyone's enthusiasm. The youngest among us - my son and niece - had never been to Stroud's, and their indoctrination was complete.

You see, Stroud's is a Kansas City institution. In a town known for barbeque, and with those joints being spoken of with single monikers - as in "We are having Gates tonight" or "They had Bryant's at the party but Masterpiece sauce on the side" - you can tell someone you are going to "Stroud's", and they will know exactly what you are speaking of, and they will moan just a little bit and rub their tummies. It is that good. It is pan fried chicken and homemade sides. Nothing institutional or "chain restaurant" about it.

What I came for. (It tasted better than it looks.)

Seasoned green beans.

Yesterday, I was younger and could see in my mind's eye the probably less than 15 times in my life I have been at a Stroud's. On each of those occasions, I have been surrounded by my family who are rubbing their tummies and making yummy sounds right along with me. And, lucky me, yesterday I added my son and niece to the roster of family members who litter the good times I keep in my mind at the red checkered tablecloth.

Just go. Plan it and go. If a non-fried-chicken person like me can have a ball, you have no excuse.

Our wonderful server.
And me.

Current tradition holds that Christmas Eve and early Christmas day are spent at our house. Even though my sister and her daughter and my mother and her partner live only 3 blocks away - in opposite directions - from my house, we all have an "overnight" at our house, and a craft is part of that grand event.

This year, it was trees and wreaths made from sugared candy. This is a craft that was re-visited upon the group from several years ago, and I love it. It is fantastic because little hands and big hands can accomplish this amazing feat. In addition, buying the candy in abundance and filling bowls with it all is a decoration within itself for several days leading up to the big night.

We shared with our customers this season our pledge to be the stuff you have come to know. We said we would spend this season counting our blessings, not dwelling on our concerns. And the blessings came...in the warmth of every smile and in the kind words you shared. Your commitment to our store is humbling.

As 2008 draws to a close, we find ourselves inspired by the gift of another remarkable year. We are grateful to our artists, our stuff team, and our customers - or, as we call you, the stuff family. With your continued belief in all that we hold dear, the challenges of the next year will be lessened.

I can tell you stories about difficult customers all day long. And you would laugh, gasp, and be dumbstruck by what we see from behind the "bar". You see, working behind a counter in retail is like working behind a bar, but without the liquor - which some days is a blessing and, frankly, some days is not. In retail, this season is dubbed "working the trenches".

But today I want to share with you the reason that, even after 12 years, I get excited to come to work.

It's because this small little store sitting in the middle of the uncelebrated Midwest has grown a heart. We are like the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz. It is through trial and journey that our heart was earned. I spend my days in November and December hugging, laughing, sharing, and sometimes crying with the people that grace our door.

This is an extraordinary place to work. And Sloane and I can not take the credit. We simply opened the door...it was the people that came in that created a place that is so sacred to me. The great irony of my life is that I co-own a store that is called STUFF, and it has never really been about the actual stuff. It has always been about the people.

So...as the year comes to an end...I want to take a moment to reflect on some of my many blessings.

To our artists...thank you for sharing your passion to create. To our staff...thank you for your dedication to helping everyone who comes through our door. To my sister...thank you for taking this journey with me.

And to our customers...thank you for your eye for beauty, your stories, your laughter, your tears, your hugs, and for every purchase you have made at our store.

Because of you all, I have found the true meaning of Christmas.

The "bar" is always open...

So it came around again this year, and the events that day - and the day after - gave me time to reflect quietly at an all-faith service, to tap my toes and move to the music of the Interfaith Choir, to share a drink and conversation with those in Kansas City who care as I do about the state of AIDS in Kansas City, and to listen intently to men and women sharing their stories and their dedication to eradicating the HIV/AIDS pandemic in our lifetime. From our city and from this Earth.

I decided to look back through the photos we have from this past year's AIDS-related fundraising events that STUFF and its families were a part of. Here are a few of my favorites:

Two years ago, I was stopped dead in my tracks at a market in New York by textile work on display. I waited in a small line with my sister Casey to learn more, and that sealed the deal - well, that and being allowed to touch!! Three months later, we had handcrafted handbags in the store, each one hand hooked and finished with leather by this amazing job creation and empowerment group in South Africa for women artisans.

(Right here you see the handbag that most members of my family and the staff at STUFF conspired to make mine last Christmas!! Yep. I am a lucky girl.)

We work directly with a South African woman, and the bags are made for us. The coolest thing is that, when the bags arrive, each has a tag attached, and each tag is signed by the woman who made the bag along with the month she finished it.

Just today I touched cards signed by Ntsaphokazi and Zondani. Both women will never know that just seeing their handwriting reaffirmed my commitment to continuing to support hand-crafted and hand-worked art from here and from far from here. There was a spirit that stayed with those cards until they got to me, and I sent that spirit out into STUFF with the handbags.

And this morning, on our mutual day off this week, we woke to snow. A light dusting. It was as if someone on the movie set which is our lives said, "Cue Snow!!" It was perfection.

This was the last of Fall on my front stoop this morning. It made me think of James Taylor singing, "Well, the frost is on the pumpkin and the hay is in the barn...." And, yes, there was a little bit of humming going on when it caught my eye.

Happy holidays. If you find yourself in Brookside, come and say hi. We will be making merry every day.

Dear STUFF Family:

You have made this journey we call "stuff" a remarkable adventure. We wish we could sit with you all at a giant table this Thanksgiving and share stories, laughter and friendship. Please know that when we pause before our meal to remember our blessings - you will be in our thoughts.

Like you, we are humbled by the talk of our economy. We want our artists, our staff, and our customers to know that we will work very hard this season to continue the history of success our store has celebrated. And we will continue offering a shopping experience that focuses on people, not product.

The youngest Simmons and her turkey.

Me and Casey - my sister AND my friend.

Last year when I decorated my home for the holidays, I was left with a few things I just wanted to find the perfect place for. I was being very picky about placement. Several, in fact, were items I get to see briefly once a year and enjoy greatly. I have a deep love for vintage holiday glass ornaments. My husband and I have collected them since our first year of marriage when I scoped a few boxes at a flea market and pounced. Then, three years ago, I found this snowman at a small local store and fell in love with the felting and the pink accents. So, in the end, they all ended up together on an antique silver tray in the foyer. The table lamp highlighted them perfectly. I grinned every time I used the front door, and it may very well be my favorite decoration ever.

I hope you find time this weekend to join us at STUFF's holiday open house, Wings of Hope. It is a fantastic two days. You can see all the magic, take a little magic home, and make a little magic for those who live with the hope of a cure for cancer.

Even as a teenager, clutching my "Hotel California" LP to my chest while Don and Glenn and the boys sang their hearts out to only me, I can remember thinking that the sunset on the album looked fake.

I have carried with me through life the belief that sunsets are breathtaking and fantastic - but only in person. I have turned to my husband and other companions on beaches and docks around the world and said, "No one would believe how beautiful this is," because I truly believe that photos and paintings do them little justice. I have seen sunsets with heavy purple overtones that would be garish if you painted them. I have seen sunsets that took place in air so hazy you'd think the camera was out of focus if you stopped to catch it on film.

I was not mentally prepared for the cold weather at the end of last week. Sure, my closet already had my polar fleece pieces on the shelf, and the sweaters had been unpacked from their summer storage. But my brain was not ready. So I decided not to wear socks for half of last week and half of Saturday. In my mind's eye, that would make it still warm-ish in my soul.

By Saturday night, I gave up the ghost and pulled on a pair of socks before heading out to dinner.

Sunday morning when I put the dog out, I knew it was time - I could smell it in the air and feel it in the sun's weakness - to deal with the last of the potted plants - my cactus and the geraniums. One is easy. I take the cactus and the pot it was planted in and move it 7 feet from the deck onto the kitchen counter. But the geraniums require transportation.

My cactus makes me very happy, too. It was a gift to me from one of my grandmothers who, like me, never really cared well for house plants. Your see, cactuses are foolproof, and I don't have a green thumb. Plus, I hate to fail at anything, and watching a house plant wither is failure in my book. My cactus came to me as one little ball of spikes, and, in the 20+ years I've had it, it has been transplanted only once and just continues to fill its pot with many, many more green spheres. Amazingly, this summer, it bloomed twice for the first time ever, and I was able to catch one on film. The other bloom was over the Fourth of July when we were traveling. Our loss. You see, the bloom lasts only one night and part of the next early morning and is so delicate it is hard to believe it came from something so outwardly unfriendly and solid.

A couple of nights ago, I was carrying my sleeping daughter in my arms, from the car to our house, and she pulled a classic wake-up-and-puke-all-over-your-mother move. If you are a parent, you know what I mean. And if you are not...well trust me when I say it isn't something you want to experience.

I'll bet you are wondering what this has to do with angels. Well, after her pukefest, I had to undress her and lay her weak body in shallow warm water to bathe her. I gently laid her back in the water until her body was covered and her head was surrounded by floating hair that looked just like a halo. And, instantly, my little puke-demon was an angel once again.

But what really struck me and had me frozen with recognition was that there is a poster print of a floating angel that hangs above my bed. Her hands are bound, and her halo hovers above the dark water. She - the angel - looks completely at peace. I brought the poster from France to my sister many, many years ago. I saw the actual painting at the Musee de Louvre and was thrilled to see the image in poster form for my sister Lindsay.

It wasn't until years after the creation of our event "Wings of Hope" at STUFF that I made the personal discovery that the wings of an angel have a very powerful meaning to me. I know now that angels give me hope. Hope that we are being watched over. Hope that we are sometimes pushed or held back as guidance. Hope that there is a place for the good in our souls to take flight. Hope that our spirits are not only limited within our bodies.

I begin this missive with the deeply held belief that I am not a chocoholic. Truly. I do not crave chocolate desserts. I think flourless chocolate cakes can be a little weird. Chocolate-based ice cream flavors are ones I never reach for first. Fruits and fruit flavors in chocolate aren't my favorite. And chocolate icing on a doughnut seems odd, as does a chocolate cake doughnut.

Now, with that said, I love chocolate candies with nuts in them. M&Ms in particular, and peanut M&Ms precisely. I have great memories of car rides with my best friend while we ate copious amount of these treats while swigging Diet Coke on ice. I can vividly remember sharing a large Hershey's with Almonds bar with my husband when he got it in his stocking one year for Christmas. (You know, back when there were full-sized almonds in the bar, not chips!!) I can remember receiving my first Whitman's Sampler box and thinking it was a genius gift to receive because they had the little diagram on the lid to tell you what not to sink your teeth into. And I can remember when I first started liking dark chocolate, when milk chocolate had clearly been my very favorite for all of my life.

We're excited to offer this new product at STUFF for weddings, parties, customer appreciation gifts, and so much more. I'm excited, as are certain members of our staff, because the smell of the chocolates when you go to label them is divine.

I think it is only fitting that this chocolate thing came to mind during the week of Halloween. In years past, I have not really allowed into our home Halloween candy that I have a weakness for. It is dangerous, and you can see your stock diminish before the first "trick or treat" greets you at your front door. But this year I capitulated, because I had a vision of our skeleton sticking out of the candy buckets and he, like me, only likes chocolate with nuts.

Happy Halloween.

Last week I was sitting with my dearest friend on the beach, looking at an amazing ocean. We had three whole days of staring at the water, floating in the water, and walking near the water, and it was wonderful. I am a very good swimmer, but the ocean always scares me a little with its power and its immensity. And that's OK. I can take it.

While we were on our little trip to the beach, I read a lot. In one of the magazines I had taken with us, I saw this ad for Pur. It made me laugh because I did drink out of hoses and directly from faucets as a child. And I still drink directly from the kitchen faucet with my hands cupped for a "quick drink". Now, we don't have a purifier on the kitchen faucet, but we do have one on our fridge, and we use it religiously to refill the humongo plastic water bottle we purchased on our road trip this summer to Santa Fe and Colorado. I love to drink water, but I hate those little plastic water bottles for many, many ecological and financial reasons. However, I saw every reason to purchase this jumbo water bottle on our trip - for the cooler while we traveled, and for the fridge when we got home.

There is water, water everywhere on our great Mother Earth, but we're gonna run out of all the drops we can drink if we keep using huge amounts of water to manufacture plastic bottles, just so we can turn around and drink water from them one time each.

My bedside table.

Something is amiss. For the first time in my life, I am reading things outside the controlled, type-A system that I set up for myself when my parents bought my first subscription to Rolling Stone magazine in the early 80s.

I love magazines, and I love books. Equally. And here was the system: I never mixed a book with a magazine. If I was reading a book when magazines arrived, the magazines went to the bottom of the reading pile while I finished my book. Then, because I always need time to grieve the end of a really good book, I would pick up a magazine from the top of the pile and start in. This would begin the depletion of the magazine pile - one magazine at a time. When the pile was empty, another book could be started. This system never varied.

So yesterday, when pumpkins were spotted outside our local grocery store, my husband Harl said to us, "Please, let's not spend $200 on pumpkins this year." Right then I was amazed - and a bit hurt - but then I realized it was really all about the end of pumpkin season - after Thanksgiving - when we drag them to the curb in the paper yard waste bags. The bags really aren't made for this, and the job can become unruly and frustrating. We don't carve all the pumpkins, because I love their color at the door until the holiday wreath is hung.

I'm not really sneaking around this season in my pursuit of pumpkins. Harl will be right along beside us at the Boy Scout spot in a few weeks, and he will be just as excited and on the lookout for odd pumpkins - the ones with blemishes, the ones that are tall and skinny or fat and squat. The odd balls. They truly make the best jack-o-lanterns.

But it won't be above me to say, with a smile on my face, just once, "Harl, I don't know, how much is that one you really love and are cradling in your arms like a newborn baby?" It is really cute when he does that, and I can assure you a great laugh will follow.

Happy hunting!!

Fred's sense of humor comes flying out at you from the magical steel and reclaimed metal art he creates at his studio in Utah. I made a comment the other day that I swear he laughs and smiles every time his flame touches metal with his torch. And you can feel that frivolity when you look at his finished pieces in our store.

Fred came to town this past weekend and was a participant in the Plaza Art Fair. We were delighted to have him in our fair city and almost fell over when we looked up Thursday morning and he was standing at our counter with his wife. One of the only questions he asked of us that day was, "What barbeque should we have first?" And then we were off to the races!! The opinions were flying, and, by the time he left, he had many Mapquest documents from Casey's printer showing him and his wife exactly how to get to each of the five winning BBQ places from their hotel on The Plaza.

Come and see his work at the store. The happiness you'll feel will embrace you fully. Just like family.

Last night, I went to one of my favorite places in Kansas City for possibly the last time. Bar Natasha.

My friend Missy Koonce and her partner JD Mann are closing their dream. When that news was first shared with me, it broke my heart. Not because in the future I would be denied the joy their business would bring. Not because I had stood in awe of their great idea for over 5 years. It was because dear friends were having to close a business they held as close to their hearts as I hold to mine the dream Casey and I have built in STUFF.

They have given their all to the dream business they founded. They have given of their time and energies to countless charities and not-for-profit organizations. It always made me smile that they actually named a day of the week - Thursday - as "Philanthropy Thursdays" and you could stop by their establishment and learn about great people and causes in our fair city.

The real loser is Kansas City as a whole. We are losing a truly unique experience that can be found nowhere else on the planet with the authenticity that Bar Natasha holds. I am tired of the cookie cutter, planned experience & themed concept way of entertaining the masses. I crave - and seek out - the original and the unique. Bar Natasha is just that - one of a kind.

I am a late bloomer. I married young and never really did "the bar scene" when I was young. In the past two years, my husband and I have gone to Bar Natasha quite often. It never let us down. The cabaret always had us tapping our feet - and, in my case, singing along. We always saw people we knew and had a great time catching up.

I will miss Bar Natasha, and it will be hole in my soul I probably will not fill very soon.

One of mine is bottom-dwelling catfish and other carp that weigh a minimum of 10 pounds and swim in shallow water.

When I was a little girl, I was at the Lake of the Ozarks with my family a great deal. My father was raised at the Lake on summer weekends as a child, and I have fleeting images of the little trailer his parents kept at the lake at a place called "The Alamo". The smell of wet concrete can still remind me of the patio there. When I was a pre-teen and a teenager, my parents kept a larger boat at the Lake that we spent whole weekends on. We slept on it and spent the weekends on the water. It was fabulous, and the memories abound.

And what do they have besides very good pulled pork, smoked brisket and onion rings? Hundreds of feeder fish!!

It was amazingly fantastic. My son and my niece beat a path from the restaurant to the dock getting more and more food in little plastic cups to feed the fish. I stopped counting their trips. Ozark BBQ has a huge bin of fish food inside the door and a great looking jar for donations to the "Fish Food Fund". I plugged it with over $7.00 worth of bills, because that's cheap for memories that never fade.

The four of us weathering the storm.
This photo was taken by Rachel Meiring (at center),
my friend and co-owner of Kdog Photographers.
Check out Rachel's blog of our trip.

We had been hearing all week about the bad weather, the rain, the wind - the ruined trip we had planned for months. But we were not going to let that get us down. If it came to it, we were prepared to hunker down inside to sleep and read, sleep and read, and sleep and read some more. I mean, really, did I mention we were going to be alone with no kids? Do you really think being sequestered in a lovely beach cottage with three of your closest friends with nothing to do would make any group of women unhappy?

On Friday, we woke pre-dawn, hopped a jet, grabbed a rental car, and were beachside eating lunch by 2:00 pm. Sun shining bright. Life was good. We were happy and free.

For as long as I can remember, be it with my Mother or with either Grandmother, I have been going to Davis Baskets in Mack's Creek, Missouri. It is a true wonderland for me. Mr. Davis - who, at 84 years old, still works full time in the store 6 days a week - admits to stocking all kinds of baskets from around the world. But what I go for is the oak baskets handmade right in the Ozarks.

The big round baskets on the left are dream baskets....
I dream of taking one home.

Me and Mr. Davis

I even love the billboards!

Although I have clear memories of going to Davis Baskets with both my grandmothers, it was my mom's mom that loved and cherished her oak baskets. When she passed away several years ago and the house was being cleaned out my my mom, she made a pile of the baskets my grandma had still been using. The pile wasn't large at all - maybe 5 or 6 total - but each had been purchased with a specific use in mind over the years. One had seen use as a kindling basket, one had held a fantastic collection of jumbo pine cones from vacations in the American West, and one had seen duty as a vessel for a Pyrex casserole dish for delivering food. (Note from Grandma: line the basket with newspapers and lay the casserole in hot from the oven, and it will be perfectly warm upon delivery!!) The other baskets escape my memory. What was amazing about the casserole basket was that the handle showed years of burnishing from her hands and was a richer color of oak; it had been varnished with her love.

Just this past weekend, I went to Davis Baskets with my husband. I was looking for the perfect oak basket to hold soaps and shampoos in my closet. Needless to say, Mr. Davis had exactly what I was looking for. I, too, am slowly collecting handmade oak baskets for particular uses. I have purchased many on my own, each with a special purpose in mind, but the basket that now holds towels in our guest bathroom once held pine cones for my grandma.

I love this place. I'm holding the one I took home.

Now, the postcard claims that they were the "first multi-concept restaurant to be certified green by the Green Restaurant Association". This required research on my part - to understand what this meant, and also because then it might make me feel better about eating in a chain restaurant. (Small business owner guilt strikes again!!)

My research astounded me because, to obtain this certification, you have to follow some strict guidelines, and every year you have to add another "green" policy to your business plan. Cool. Awesome. See? This big restaurant in NYC was really just like STUFF - the comparisons were shocking!!

The postcard in question in our organic basil at home.

I read a lot of magazines, and I mix it up a bit - National Geographic, Country Living, Vanity Fair, Architectural Digest, and Country Home, just to name a few. And, if you read a lot of home fashion magazines, you read the word "scale" a lot. And getting it right seems to be imperative. I can admit to thinking about it at home quite a bit, and I can drive my husband crazy moving little - and big - things around to get them "just right".

Casey and I have been staying at a hotel in New York for our business trips that is a bit north of Times Square on 7th Avenue. The lobby interior is like stepping into a Ralph Lauren ad, and the rooms are well designed for business travelers. (Read: They got the scale right.) However, this area of New York isn't the best for getting reasonably-priced food, so, occasionally, we opt for an "experience" while eating. Last week we ate in a restaurant called Ruby Foo's, right in the heart of Times Square.

Casey with the big lanterns.

Ruby Foo's has nailed "scale". Some things are oversized (not the portions, thank God), and some details are subtle, but the entire look is well done. Their sign and business card will tell you that they are a "dim sum and sushi palace" - two distinct food cultures wrapped into one description. However, though the interiors are heavily influenced with Chinese decoration, the subtle Japanese comes shining through. There is no visual clashing of cultures, just cultures mingling on your plate.

A view out onto Broadway.

A mah jong tile wall . . . they spin!

Blue and white chinese pots in my hotel lobby.

I've never been crazy about Asian interiors or Asian accents in my own home, but I do have select pieces I enjoy that I have collected through travel to China and gifts from family friends. I do, however, adore Chinese lanterns in any color (although red is my favorite), blue and white Chinese pottery, diminutive Japanese sauce dishes, mah jong tiles, and oversized cloisonné Chinese vases.

A feast for the eyes may be just what Ruby Foo's was going for. And stepping into it from a packed Times Square sidewalk can soothe you tired body, feed your tummy, and bring your sense of scale into alignment. They got it "just right".

More jumbo lanterns.

It all started with lunch.

Casey and I like to go to Chipotle occasionally, because almost everything they serve their food in and on can be recycled. Oh, yeah, the food is fresh and good, but the recyclability of their packaging pops it further up our food chain.

This time, we brought lunch to the store. I had opted for a burrito and not my usual "burrito bol". At this lunch, we were discussing a new store window idea for our Diva Day promotion. I had taken my aluminum foil from the burrito and, since it was clean, made a long rolled "snake" with it. While we were talking, I made silly jewelry with it and drove Casey crazy - and was accused by her of "not paying attention" - by showing her my new silver bracelet and then my new ring.

And then the flash went off. We both stood there and new exactly what the window would look like and what it would feature - a chick decked out in recyclable and reclaimed couture. Even the lid to Casey's burrito bol was dug out of the recycling bin right then and was fashioned into fringe with Casey's two hands.

A week later, with the implementation help of our summer interns, we had a fantastic woman to feature in our store. And my "jewelry" became the impetus for the coils that hung around her in the completed window.

These are my new shoes. I got them for my birthday, and I love them. I have only worn them once, and I consider that still breaking them in. You see, I have a tendency to not wear new things a whole bunch right away, because I don't want to wear them out too soon. And this is because most of the shopping I do for myself and my wardrobe is agonizing. I am not the best clothing shopper, and I HATE dressing rooms for every reason.

When I get new clothing and accessories, I almost hoard them in my closet and sparingly wear them to "special occasions". At some point in their lives they go from being for special occasions to something I can pull out to wear to work every day.

Just yesterday, Lori Buntin delivered 5 new pieces of art. She came by a little after 10 am, and I am here to tell you that getting to see new art first thing in a retail morning is a treat.

The best.

Hands down, the best way to start a work day.

As she walked them in, I audibly oohed and aahed and silently went about picking my favorite from this set.

I can't decide. When she delivered, the piece called (STUART) HA(LL) was the one I was going to save my money for. When I was entering them into inventory, Billboard, No. 1 was the hands down winner. And when I finally hung them around 1 pm, Moonliner, No. 1 swung into first place.

However, I had to rearrange a few of her pieces from an earlier series, and the one I was coveting from that set ran back up the flagpole. The decision became impossible.

I have a friend who, in the not too distant past, took a job with a "big box clothing retailer". When I ask her what she loves about the job, she tells me she loves opening the incoming boxes every day because "you never know what's inside", and that is thrilling to her. "Just like Christmas," she says.

That's how I feel every time an artist we represent delivers new work. Opening their delivery bags and boxes always takes my breath away. And it is usually because they have pushed themselves even further in their art and have developed, designed, and conceived something entirely new. Usually a one-of-a-kind - and, in my book, that's even better. I love owning something that is an "only".

Two Saturdays ago, Casey and I met with 5 new local and regional artists whose work we will be introducing into the store in the next few weeks. That means we will experience the thrill of truly new work at STUFF five times in the next few weeks. Make a point of stopping by to check out the new artist work.

Abbye and Andrea caught playing
"grandma's jewelry box".

When I was a little girl, my sisters and I would stay with our grandparents in the summer for a week or two. We would stay for a week with my mother's parents and a week with my father's parents, and each week would be distinctly different - and wonderful.

At one house, we would get to go to the public swimming pool by ourselves, eat watermelon on the cool carport in the evenings, ride our bicycles freely through the neighborhood, and hang out with our summer vacation friends. At the other house, we would cook and bake, work in our grandpa's wood shop (with real tools) and play in our grandmother's jewelry box all afternoon in the breeze of a fan.

We could play with her jewelry for hours. Our Grandma had a very eclectic collection of pieces from every era in her lifetime. She had a love of "pretties" and would let us try on every piece over and over again.

That is what it is like to work at STUFF. We (my sister, I, and the amazing STUFF team) play "grandma's jewelry box" every day. We try pieces on each day with our outfits. We experiment with new combinations. We share ideas about what would look good on each other. We get excited every time new pieces arrive.

You would think the boxes delivered were filled with presents for us instead of for you - the customers - to enjoy and to give as gifts.

Of course, we learn everything about the artists, including the processes and the passions that drive the artists to create the jewelry we offer. But not a day goes by when we don't find time to play with the jewelry. I peek out of my office door and eavesdrop on the voices, whispers, laughter, and friendly ribbing among the staff. It takes me back to my grandmother's bedroom. My sisters and me sitting on the floor at the foot of her bed with the boxes of jewels before us like treasure chests dumped at our feet.

It is this playful time that makes it possible for a staff member to seemingly effortlessly find the perfect piece of jewelry for you to keep or to give. I am not sure we even realize we are working. We can visualize the pieces being worn. We can see them with different outfits, on different people, and in different combinations because - yup, you guessed it - we have been playing "grandma's jewelry box".

Come play with us. I promise it will put a smile on your face. I just wish grandma was here to serve us angel food cake with fresh strawberries for dessert.

She took in the whole store, chose wisely in the purchase of local art, gave us all numerous pats on the back, and thanked us for staying late and "making her day". Before she left, I asked Holly to capture us on film - a tired store co-owner and a weary traveler. As I was walking her through the store, she told me our customer service was everything she imagined it would be since the moment she saw Casey and me in Country Living magazine - and that she was "delighted". And then she was gone. Back to Connecticut.

When it's time to journey home from Colorado, if you've been west of Denver, all roads lead downwards. Last Saturday afternoon, we began our descent from Steamboat Springs towards Kansas City. Vacation was over. We had begun the day in 90 degree and sunny weather, and when we stopped it was 55 degrees and raining.

Our stop was for dinner, and it was worth getting wet and cold for - hamburgers and ice cream at the Empire Dairy King in Empire, Colorado. They were perfect.

My younger dining companion chose a grilled cheese and ham sandwich. I don't think I've made enough of these for him at home, or maybe our four years as a vegan household was too much for him, but he kept wondering "what is all this grease?" on his sandwich while he was maniacally shredding paper napkins trying to get it off his hands. When I informed him that it was butter, he started licking the grease directly off his fingers and making happy noises. My older dining companion - my husband - informed me, after his single bite of the grilled cheese in question, that it was "a really good one". Duh.

My husband and I each had a hamburger. We watched the woman make it from our choice vantage point at our table with three chairs. Each table in the joint only has three chairs, and there are only four tables total, because the Empire Dairy King is housed in a trailer. A converted mobile home. But our table had a shot right into the grill, and the woman who put our little pieces of heaven together did an excellent job. The tomato slice was fresh, the lettuce was crunchy, the 1/4 pound of meat was cooked just right, the pickle slices were the semi-garlicky kind I like, and the onion was - well - perfect. The bun was slightly grilled but still soft. Heaven. Perfect heaven.

These yard balls are at my house. I love how the phlox and coreopsis have grown around them.

I absolutely - no questions asked - love glazed terra cotta pots. And I absolutely love glazed yard balls. They must be blue; rich, deep, swimming pool blue. They stop me in my tracks every spring at Soil Service when my family and I are out at Mother's Day making our yearly decision on annual plants for the yard at home. My son and husband have learned to walk away while I touch each one and talk in hushed tones to myself as to why I love what I'm looking at and where it would be perfectly placed in my life.

I thought we looked pretty good, after a day at work for two of us and a day at school for one. Just a midtown family, out for an early evening stroll with their dog. But, two doors up, we were busted by a friend throwing a baseball with his son in the front yard. I'm guessing the black T-shirts, the clean blue jeans, the flip-flops, the groomed dog, and the man with us - lugging a camera bag and holding a huge camera - gave us away. I believe our neighbor's quote was, "Just documenting a day in the life of a dog?"

Exactly.

Our dog is now pushing 16 years old, but you wouldn't know it from the spring in his step and his bright eyes. You would, however, know it from his almost complete deafness. He is my good friend and my dearest daily companion. He has seen it all - from very unique perspectives - and has said nothing. That is a true friend.

It was time to capture the magic of our family with him. And our friend Philip did just that. See for yourself.

Our dog knew what we were up to and never ran off. He also decided to play up the deaf factor, and chose not do too much that Philip asked of him directly.

Philip co-owns Kdog in Kansas City with two other fantastic photographers. Give them a call and book time for the magic in your life. It's hidden right there in the activities you do every day. They'll find it for you, capture it, and hand it back.

That's what magicians do.

We don't know about you, but shopping for our father is always a challenge. He has great taste and wants for very little. We believe we have never bought him a tie.

We did take him to the zoo a handful of years ago, where we all melted in the heat. Truly. We all combusted individually. We were unable to hug our dad when we got back to our cars, because we all were wrung out and unable to lift our arms in embrace.

He does seem to enjoy gifts that show that we have taken some time to think about him. For many years, we have had a tradition of taking him to dinner - just the three of us. It is more than wonderful to spend an evening with our dad all to ourselves. He believes it is all for him, but truthfully it is a bit selfish - no grandkids, no spouses, just the two of us and our dad. We all miss our sister, who was lost to this earth and us 10 years ago, but these meals still feel a bit like Father's Day morning years ago, when we three used to arrive at his bedside with burnt toast and over-cooked, cold eggs - always spilling orange juice on his sheets.

Over the years, we have found some great gifts hidden in our own store. We know he loves his Cathy Broski sculpture - his Broski boat has three birds that represent his three children. His vase by Beth Mueller has an "XOXO" design.

The baseball cap is this year's perfect gift, but he blew the surprise last week when he dropped by stuff unexpectedly and found one hanging there. We just laughed, went into our office, got the one we were holding for him, and said "Happy Father's Day".

This year's gift is done, but we still have our yummy dinner to look forward too. We would love to help you find a gift for your Dad, too. Have a great Father's Day weekend. And our advice is this: skip the tie, avoid the zoo, and try not to burn the toast.

Okay...I know you all loved the burger blog my sister wrote a while back. I know you can taste the juicy beast, and you are groaning for more. But my "ultimate food fantasies" are meals like sushi, Vietnamese noodles, calamari (lighted breaded and drizzled with garlic olive oil), and DIM SUM!

Yes, traditional Chinese dim sum - cart after cart of amazing little plates, each with a unique taste. I can feast on dim sum. My family knows this because I constantly talk about it. On my 40th birthday, which was the Sunday of the Brookside Art Fair, they conspired to make my day special by bringing take-out dim sum to the store for my lunch.

Of course, it wasn't quite that simple.

My daughter reading a book she received from Ryoko just after she was born

I was working with a customer, and when I was done Sloane asked me to go downstairs and get her something. That is when I discovered the surprise dim sum feast. Yeah, aaaaaawesome!

I feasted! And then through the afternoon I would sneak downstairs and fill yet another plate with these tasty little treats and feast, again and again. There was so much food that I was able to share (a little - I am pretty greedy with my dim sum) and I still had a take home sack.

I am thrilled to report that today my daughter and I had take-out dim sum again and, although the feast was much smaller, it still "hit the spot" and brought back my wonderful birthday memories.

Desk

Table

Bedside

Drawer

The event was part company picnic, part education fair, part community service outreach. It was co-sponsored by the Ford Motor Company and the United Auto Workers, and we always tried to have the final decisions and tiny details decided before they went into contract negotiations every other July.

Now, why this ad reminded me of this event was this: during those months (May to August), we lived in my minivan - driving to meetings at the plant, having meetings in the car out in the lot of the plant, or driving to meetings at locations around the huge plant grounds. And my dear friend Cathy had a way of making the van seem fully equipped with a conference room, snack bar, mail house, art department, warehouse, and supply closet. Miraculously, the van was never trashed, because we are neat freaks to beat all.

I have fabulous memories of those summers and truly believe those yearly experiences have carried though into the work we both do today: her as a pastor at Country Club Christian Church, and me at STUFF.

But in my heart, silently, I was celebrating the fact that summer was here.

Finally.

It was a long time coming to our neck of the woods. My personal celebration will last for at least three months and will be spent, as much as is possible and appropriate, in a swim suit.

The silly fact that summer doesn't officially start until mid to late June is unimportant in our house. The end of school means the beginning of the pool, which means the beginning of summer. It's that simple, and the solstice has little to do with it in our eyes.

A few days later, my e-mail beeped and I opened an e-mail with a picture attached. What I expected was a photograph of earrings lying on a dresser or table. Instead I was greeted with a playful smile filled with trust, happiness and love. I was looking at a photograph taken by a husband of his much-loved wife. And she believed that the photograph was for him.

I enjoy this photo so much. It brings a smile to my face when I look at it, knowing that I was asked to be a part of a secret gift, and being asked to share in their lives for a brief moment makes me happy too.

running

running away

My son and his friend Gary

They finished the race side-by-side at 8:53. When they joined their "Cheer Team" back half a block at 40th and Main, he ran straight to me. Then, as he "worked" the whole group with his breathless hugs and thank yous, I stood there and clearly saw the baby who finally made it across the carpet on all fours to get the stuffed bunny and who looked back at me in triumph. I saw the toddler who finally made it to the end of the sofa on two wobbly feet while grasping the cushions with two hands, and who had looked back at me in sheer amazement and fear. And I saw the child who still runs from the car every day into the wonder of his school hollering "love you too" over his shoulder.

Now, due to our building being about 100 years old, we have two drain pipes on the wall in question, and the quote I finally chose made me fall out laughing - and Casey did too. Jane, however, was late to the laughing that night, but when it finally hit her, we three had tears running down our faces.

The quote: "It is quite a three pipe problem." by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

I think it perfectly suits our complicated lives. There may only be two pipes on the wall, but the problem is greater than that.

I am about to fill the diary I purchased a few years ago in Grand Lake, Colorado. So, just today, I picked up a new victim at STUFF. It's a 100% recycled book, plus it utilizes no new trees, it is acid-free and chlorine-free, and it uses only vegetable-based glues and ink. It's called an "ecojot", and I love them all. We've carried these sweet suckers since last fall, and I have been using one as a daily workbook (I'm a list person!!) and it's been perfect.

Skinny's was out of the question when we left the island because the line was out the door. I wanted to stop but knew that the wait would be long, and I've been there several times, so I knew that they hand-form each burger when you order it. Waiting is usually no problem because the beer is always very, very cold. But I do hate to miss a plane.

Today, however, was hamburger bliss at The Shake Pit. My husband and I each had a cheeseburger - his with mustard, mine without - and, instead of crinkle-cut fries, we shared a hot dog. Before I continue with the hamburger monologue, I must say that this hot dog - on a scale of 1 to 10 - was a rock solid 9. The bun was slightly grilled but still soft, and the dog was grilled, too. Absolute heaven with just mustard and relish. (Next time we are gonna have it with those two condiments but add ketchup and diced onions and see how it sits.)

The Shake Pit is an "eat outdoors" place, although they to do offer maybe 10 counter seats inside. I went in today to score a business card and got to see our burgers being made on the open griddle. Just when it was about done, they laid the American Cheese on, and my dream lunch was complete. When it started to bubble a bit, they lifted that little bit of fried paradise and laid it on the soft bun - no grilling on that sucker - with the fresh tomato, onion, lettuce, ketchup and mayo.

The cokes were cold, the burger and dogs were hot, and the ice cream chasers were soft serve chocolate ice cream sundaes with marshmallow cream, whipped cream and nuts - no cherry on mine!

I believe that people often equate bravery with physical sacrifice - men charging into battle and the like. But I have been thinking a lot about my Grandma Ginny's life, death and funeral that took place a handful of weeks ago.

My life has been filled with success and failure, celebration and tragedy, comfort and pain. (My ex-husband always said my family was like the Kennedys' without the fame or fortune.) I have witnessed extraordinary acts of kindness, courage, intellect, creativity, and sadly extreme acts of selfishness, mean spirit, and vindictiveness throughout my life.

It is bravery, however, that I find myself thinking about these days.

My Grandmother's last days were spent in a hospital. She had very little privacy, she was constantly examined, and she was given one bad piece of news after another until she was told her condition was fatal.

Enjoying the exit row.

Going through security in KC.

Waiting for our luggage in Florida.

Admiring the floor art at KCI airport.

Picking up Hertz car #662.

KCI is full of art!

This is the perfect T-shirt. Here's why: It is made from 50% organic cotton and 50% recycled plastic bottles (RPET). It is made entirely in the USA. It comes in two great colors. The company that supports these great ideas is a Kansas City company, Jones & Mitchell Sportswear. Their sales person that helped us make this tee "ours" is Brian Partlow, a friend I've known for 10 years through our love of AIDS Walk Kansas City. And my sister and I personalized this shirt for the neighborhood we love, Brookside.

This morning I was drawn to Ninette Maumus's work in particular. We have proudly represented her work for years. She creates these captivating three dimensional shadow box assemblage pieces. And I believe I was struck by her work today because of a project I recently completed at my daughter's school. Creating symbolic assemblage and working with three year olds gave me a refreshed perspective on the stories held in these special pieces.

There I was, slowly moving from piece to piece, trying to translate the story being told by the objects and images that were meticulously chosen and assembled by Ninette.

I adore my family. Not just the ones that birthed me, raised me, or married me. Not just the ones that allow me to continue to be the "older sister" or the "Mom". Those people are an intricate part of my greater family - the family of people I've surrounded myself with and love deeply.

This past Friday night was one of my favorite Friday nights every year: The Mosaic Project. It is the culmination of a year of planning with my fellow committee members, Catherine and Greg and Terry and Harl. It is the bringing together of volunteers that work this event every year and enjoy seeing each other. It is the night where we all get to catch our breath - from lifting heavy boxes and hanging banners - and stare at the wonder of 1,000 pieces of art. And for me, it is having most of my favorite people in one place at one time.

The Mosaic Project was 10 years old this year. Here's the exact definition of the event from the back of one of the this year's tiles:

Over the past ten years, nearly 10,000 glazed ceramic tiles have been created for a unique Kansas City AIDS awareness project called Mosaic. Area high schools, youth groups and artists have donated time and talent to produce a yearly exhibit called "A World Without AIDS". The participants developed their own concepts, which were interpreted using glaze on 6" x 6" ceramic tiles. All supplies for the project are provided by the AIDS Service Foundation of Greater Kansas City or donated by local businesses.

Thousands of people have seen the exhibit. The exhibit installation has been held for many years in the Art Lobby of the Chair Building during "First Friday" gallery openings in the Crossroads Art District, south of Downtown Kansas City, Missouri. The installations are impressive and thought-provoking, and Mosaic has become an integral part of the pre-event awareness for Kansas City's largest AIDS services fundraising effort, AIDS Walk Kansas City.

Schools or youth groups who are interested in participating in this important project can contact Greg Hugeback at (816) 531-4606 to join the local AIDS fight and to help raise awareness among our youth, one of the groups with the fastest rising HIV infection rates.

All funds raised by Mosaic directly benefit AIDS Walk Kansas City.

But it's more than that to me. This project had become a part of my life.

My son painted a tile for the first time this year and was a volunteer at two of the events leading up to Friday night.

My husband joined the committee several years ago so that our data on each of the artists was uniform.

My sister and I - and our store STUFF - are corporate sponsors of the event, and we continue that spirit all year by displaying the tiles in the store and selling them year-round.

My best friend has worked on this event since we joined the committee together 9 years ago.

My mom, my niece, and my sister.

A few of this year's tiles.

My friends Gary, Janie, Jane & Chip.

"Pool No. 1 (Refraction)" by Lori Buntin.

"Pool No. 2 - After Hours" by Lori Buntin

On Monday, I took my grandmother for her quarterly foot doctor visit. It was a sunny day, but very windy and cold. We had intended to have two stops that day, but the trip to the doctor was enough outdoor activity for her. So, instead of a snack at a table with any type of service, she wanted me to serve Brach's peanut clusters and a "good fountain Coke" in the front  seat of my car. Easy. And I probably outdid myself when I parked us in front of a construction site. Hey, it was activity, and it gave us much to talk about.

On Tuesday afternoon, my grandmother had "an episode" at lunch. It was different than, say, the kind that Casey or I would have at lunch - because those we can usually talk each other down from. Grandma's episode got me a call from my Dad - who was in Florida - and had me finding my grandmother in the maze of an emergency room an hour later making a doctor laugh. It crossed my mind quickly that it really was an episode like Casey and I have and that he had "talked her down".

But it wasn't, as Wednesday proved.

My energy level was refilled by the people who joined us that night. I breathed deeply and soaked it all in.

• My sister Casey - she's the best.

• Magnutz - they're awesome magnets; we've sold them for 10 years.

• Locally Made Jewelry - how can you not love a one-of-a-kind?

• Zippernut Cards - they always hit so close to home.

• Laughter - it's all around us here.

• Tuscan Currant candles by Nouvelle - hand poured in Louisiana everyday.

• Cotton Rugs by Dash & Albert - they always make me want to buy them.

• Our intense recycling commitment - it has me driving packing foam and CFL light bulbs down 63rd Street!!

• Our new blue sticker - great color.

• The fact that my dog comes to work with me 2 days a week.

• Art classes kids can take - offered all year long.

• My son "working" with me. Translation: a bit of work from him, and then my money spent at Topsy's!!

• Julie Ann's shortbread cookies - the best cookie in this world.

• MOSAIC tiles in the store year round!!

• Piel Leather bags.

• The "Gnome Bearers" by Fred Conlon.

• Serving trays & such by Decorative Things. Handmade in New York City. Wacky!!

• ANY clip earrings that come in!! (Little known fact: I can only wear clip earrings.)

• Our funky "reader" glasses - because I occasionally need to wear them in the late afternoon.

• My desk & office space.

• Lavender lotion by Pre de Provence.

• The Brookside Sweatshirt - my sister designed it, and we donate a portion of each sale to the local park.

• Having my niece yell, "LaLa, I'm here!!" as she crosses the threshold.

• The music we play - it always gets me in trouble.

• Our customers. Truly, they're the best.

What are your Top 25?

Happy Valentine's Day!!

His name is Tom Doty and he works at a small business in town called Warehouse 1. And, until last November, I can honestly say we had never heard of him. His business, yes. Him personally, no. The phone rang in early November, and a man on the other end asked if it would be OK if "Tom Doty from Warehouse 1" nominated us for the Top 25 award. It seems as though he had had a wonderful experience in our store and liked what we were up to. We said, "That would be fine," not knowing what the Top 25 award was, but figuring it couldn't be all bad. And, it being November, we went back to dealing with the holiday season at STUFF and thought nothing of it until "the packet" came in the mail yet that month.

Another item requested was a photograph of Casey and me to be used throughout the nomination and award process. We immediately knew that the photo my husband had taken of us in my backyard over two years before wouldn't cut the mustard. So I called on another friend, David Riffel, one of Kansas City's finest photography gurus - and he didn't laugh out loud when I told him what we needed and when. Within two days of my call, Casey and I were standing on the lawn of the Nelson-Atkins Museum on a crisp - and gorgeous - late fall day, having our portrait made. The entire session with him took 14 minutes, and I'm pretty sure he got the shot he wanted in the first 3 minutes!!

A couple of weeks ago, my daughter turned three. I took the day off from the store and spent the day with her. We started our day snuggling in bed and reading books. We then joined my nephew at school for lunch, where she was able to eat in the "big kids" lunchroom. We came to Brookside, and her LaLa (Sloane) took her up the street to the ice cream shop for a treat. And then, after our afternoon naps (yes, I joined in), we headed off to meet our family for dinner.

It was a special night, and it wasn't just because we were with our family to celebrate a third birthday. It was special because we attended the AIDS Walk Kick-Off Party at Bar Natasha. All the other parents reading this are smiling right now because you are thinking, "Way to fool the kid into believing an all-adult event in a bar for a local charity is good way to spend your third birthday." And, when I arrived I did suffer a bit of mother guilt; but by the time we left, I realized that I couldn't have planned a better celebration.

I am in love with nature. I wear a custom made Elle bracelet with a Frank Lloyd Wright quote that reads "I believe in God, only I spell it nature." Mother Nature rocks my world. She is gentle, beautiful, steadfast and powerful. Talk about the perfect woman.

The first time I stood on the rim of the Grand Canyon, I was speechless....and if you know me, you know it would take the Grand F**king Canyon to shut me up. But I digress.

I don't "collect" many things. I buy fine art. I seem to acquire bowls, but nothing specific. I love artist-made jewelry, but again it is not a focused collection. I do, however, collect shells and rocks...abundantly. My home is a shrine to the handiwork of the oceans and rivers. In other words, I collect pieces of Mother Nature.

A couple of days ago, STUFF received an order of a small gift book entitled "Heart Stones" by Josie Iselin. It is a lovely little book of photography and inspiration about heart shaped stones.

Here's the story. During a recent trip to our neighborhood grocery store, my sister's car was smacked into by a jerk. She was pulling out of an angled parking space, and this guy whipped around her from the opposite direction - crossing the oncoming lane of traffic - and ripped half the rear fender off her new hybrid car trying to squeeze into the spot next to her before she could pull out. He then proceeded to evade calls from his own insurance company for two weeks, then finally denied responsibility for the result of his illegal and dangerous driving maneuvers, sticking my sister with several unreasonable choices: paying for the repair herself; claiming it on her own insurance (we all know how that would affect her in the long run); or getting a lawyer and spending an outrageous amount of time and money suing the loser just to see justice served.

So...I am calling on all karmic gurus, voodoo doll practitioners, séance sisters and the like to call down the thunder. I believe strongly that this bad man should never eat a warm doughnut again. He should be plagued with halitosis, a big shiny balding spot, and ill-fitting pants. I want his fanny to smart from the spanking given him by the karmic powers.

And then, one day, a year or more ago, we realized we share something very exciting: a love of Scotland. We discovered this because I instantly recognized the handbag she was carrying since it was from a small store I had discovered in Edinburgh. I couldn't keep the excitement out of my voice when I asked her about it because I knew they were not sold anywhere other than two places in Scotland.

OK. Here's how I fell in love: When I turned 40, my father and I traveled alone to Scotland. This was my very generous birthday gift. Since returning - over two years ago - I've been itching to get back, and Gina may be the only person I talk to in Kansas City who understands that desire. I've driven my husband and son crazy with my reminiscences. My dad and I spent 12 days in our own rental car driving around Scotland. We followed a well planned itinerary, seldom staying in one location more than one night. The world slowed way down, and we got to explore, at our own pace, a huge portion of that amazing country. It was bliss for many, many reasons.