the road to darlybird

When I was little, my mom started calling me "darlybird" and it just stuck. (That was when I was being darling; on other occasions, my siblings and I were dubbed "turkey trotter"s.) She mainly calls me rachel or chi or chi chi to my face, but on birthday cards and other written correspondence, it's usually darlybird.

So when I decided that I was going to open an online business selling visually stimulating and well-designed products (targeted to youngish, hippish, interested-in-entertaining and augmenting-their-environs-with-cool-and-useful-things types), I was stumped to find a name that would aptly represent my mission. Then darlybird hit me and I knew it was it. So, I set out building my ideas and my website. I went through the rigamoral to get a California seller's permit, I made business cards, I spent HOURS doing online research to find the coolest products, and I went to the San Francisco International Gift Fair in San Fran (duh!) in August. I was totally enthused and hyper about this venture. I figured I could make a few extra bucks from home while I had fun finding cool stuff for myself and some of the rest of the world. (The latter being the prime reason for the mission, although a few bucks never hurt anyone!)

But then when push came to shove and it was time to find a REAL graphic designer/web design guru, and time to order thousands of dollars worth of products, and time to get going on the actual business, I became paralyzed. Suddenly the thought of dealing with no-name customers who thought the magenta platter was more purple than pink, or the person whose vintage apron was one inch too short totally overwhelmed me. I imagined Esther purple lipped and screaming to get out of her booster seat while I shoved more Trader Joe's O's on her tray and tried to squeeze a few more minutes of work-time into my day. I didn't want my children to be the total losers in this affair, yet there was something tangible that my darlybird venture was giving me.

I realized I didn't have enough capital to start and do this thing full-fledged--and somehow doing it halfway didn't appeal to me at the time. Anyway, I kind of dropped the idea dead in its tracks; I cancelled my website service (and the website was looking pretty cute, I might add), and I didn't follow through on the leads I got from the SFIGF. Instead, I started canning, working on my house, and threw a house"cooling" party to get some of my creative energy out. Let's just say that I kind of threw myself into domesticity as much as possible. I started blogging, too, which has helped me find sanity in the long days with no adult outlet.

But yesterday, darlybird, the business, started tantalizing me again. The purple-lipped, yelling Esther is a true story from last evening at about ummmm....5:45. So where does that leave me? I don't know. [As a sidenote, I come from a very creative woman who had her own non-profitable business....I still remember my dad telling her, "Laura, you can't sell knitting machines for the wholesale price and then you end up paying the sales tax on them. We're losing money on Harmony Studios!" (cute name, huh?). My sisters have all entered the business dream, too, to greater and lesser extents...] So, I've posted some of my favorite products. Please tell me what you think. Does this stuff appeal to you personally? Would you be interested in some of my products? (no, I'm not really soliciting sales on my blog....just feedback). Friends and lurkers, if you're out there, please chime in on this one. You're my only hope.

(And btw...i think i'm going to have to order the melamine platters with or without you....and the stationary from waste not paper....and a booster seat for esther....and you get the picture....)