A Good Purge, Push and Saying Goodbye to The Past

Hey there, yarn wizards! Let me tell you about my dream studio, well, let's just say it got tangled up with reality faster than a kitten chasing a ball of yarn. COVID wasn't exactly kind to his plans, but listen up – this isn't a sob story! It's a heads-up for anyone with a glorious yarn-based dream simmering on their needles.

My vision for a garage studio was epic. A place for yarn enthusiasts to gather, a haven for creativity and cozy vibes – what's not to love, right? But here's the thing: sometimes, passion gets a little too excited and forgets to send out invites to the planning Committee. 

Permits, zoning, legalities – the not-so-glamorous side of running a business. It's like knitting a sweater without a pattern – things can unravel faster than you can say "frog it" (that's crocheting lingo for starting over, in case you didn't know).

Believe me, the costs snuck up like a sneaky yarn thief. Re-zoning, heating, plumbing – those things add up quicker than a basket overflowing with impulse-buy skeins. But don't you dare get discouraged! The bumps hit the creative journey.

The takeaway? Before you dive headfirst into your dream business, take a deep breath, grab your metaphorical measuring tape, and get planning! Research those permits, factor in the hidden costs lurking in the shadows, and remember – a well-crafted business plan is the foundation for a truly magnificent project.

So chin up, yarn warriors! My dream might be on a temporary time out, but my passion for crochet is still burning brighter than a discount yarn bin. And who knows, with a little planning magic, that yarn studio dream might just see the light of day after all. Just maybe not right this very second.

Mikey's Yarn Studio in Greenwhich, Nova Scotia

Even the brightest yarn enthusiast can't see everything! I totally forgot about the importance of outdoor lighting. Imagine someone tripping on uneven ground in the dark – not a happy ending for anyone. It's a liability nightmare, even with insurance. This experience became a golden lesson for me, and a word to the wise: Don't let your dream studio turn into a potential lawsuit.

Here's the kicker: My cautionary tale even reached a friend on the brink of a similar yarn venture.  My advice? Invest that life savings somewhere a little less...trippy. It's all about minimizing risk while maximizing your crafting dreams!

Finally coming to terms with the fact that the studio probably would never reopen, it was time to purge the samples, not only from the designs and tutorials but also from the studio. Bag after bag was made, and we headed out of the house.

Mikey giving away samples of crochet projects he has made over three years.

You know, there's something incredibly liberating about letting go of stuff. It's like Erykah Badu's "Bag Lady" come to life, but instead of emotional baggage, it's the physical kind.

In 2003, I woke up to a truth I couldn't ignore any longer. Three years out of the closet, I was still carrying a ton of emotional baggage – and a whole lot of stuff!  Childhood keepsakes, remnants of my marriage, boxes overflowing in every corner. I felt swallowed by my possessions, even though by today's standards, it might seem pretty minimal.

Something had to change. I needed a fresh start, a clean slate to rewrite my story.  So, I did what any self-respecting yarn enthusiast with a metaphorical crochet hook would do – I unraveled it all.  Bigger items went up for grabs on eBay, and the rest took a dive into the complex dumpster.  Gone were the physical ties to my past, the objects that anchored me to a life I was leaving behind.  Just me, a mattress on the floor, and the exhilarating emptiness of a new beginning.

Sure, there are moments when a pang of regret hits for a lost childhood memory. But the truth is, you can't take it all with you. The experiences, the lessons learned – those are woven into the fabric of who I am. And sometimes, a clean slate requires a radical act of letting go.

Fast forward to today, and I'm all about purging. My partner, Daniel, is a champion declutterer – anything untouched for six months gets donated. It's a constant reminder that most of the stuff we accumulate is just that – stuff.  We have a network of folks who can breathe new life into these unwanted items, getting them into the hands of people who truly need them.

I don't mind if something I once owned ends up getting resold at a thrift store. As long as it keeps people working and gives the item a second chance, I'm happy. But my real preference?  Free. When someone receives something I no longer need, without spending a dime,  it feels like a weight lifting off my shoulders.

Sitting on the deck with Salti, my dog, the fresh air fills my lungs, and I take a look around.  Life is short. Why waste it buried under a mountain of stuff I don't even appreciate anymore?  Letting go, unraveling the unnecessary – that's what makes room for the things that truly matter.  And who knows, maybe a life free of clutter is like a perfectly crocheted project – beautiful in its simplicity.

Sitting on the Front Deck with Salti in Nova Scotia.

I know when my time comes and I my life is over, and if I go before Daniel does, he's going to have a lot of yarn to purge and anything I collected that he doesn't value. I cannot take it with me, so if I can pass things on now and feel the joy, it does my mind good.

Salti rolling in fresh cut grass in Nova Scotia.

Leave me a comment on how you feel about purging and if you have any rules about what items you keep.