Over the past three weeks, I've had to move. It was unexpected and upsetting, and would have been a logistical nightmare as well, had it not been for a lot of help from my friends. Faced with little time and no car, I did an unusual thing: I unabashedly asked for help. All my friends said yes to my requests to drive me places and lug things, graciously and with genuine good humour. One friend let me drag her around Ikea, desperately hunting for the Snurgleblorg bin before closing. Another hauled my futon up 3 flights of stairs then took me grocery shopping. One wrote me a cheat sheet all about internet, cable and cell phones so I could speak reasonably intelligently about the services I needed and not get fleeced. People I don't even know that well let me borrow their cars. At some point, a friend commended me for asking for help, and I realized how rarely we do that.

Maybe we women of the feminist era are loathe to show weakness, or maybe we're all just inculcated with the American dream - you can do it, but on your own. I have always been fiercely independent, but have also learned that asking for what you need can be really beneficial. This absolutely applies to my business as well.

Never one to cower before banks or large corporations, I have always demanded better rates and prices. Much to my children's mortification, I will haggle anywhere (except with artists, of course!). Did you know that all you have to do to lower your merchant credit card rate is phone the bank every six months and demand it? I mark it in my calendar. It's harder to get one's way with behemoths like Bell or Rogers, but not impossible. It's remarkable what happens when you cheerily start a sentence with "I'd like to arrange a better deal on..."

Fortified by the generosity of my friends and my capacity to get things done, yesterday I sacked my lawyer in favour of his much more attentive and competent colleague. I had to practice all the way there on the subway (what is it about doctors and lawyers?), but when I got to his office I looked him in the eye and said, "I am unhappy with the service I've received from you." It felt so empowering!

What do you need help with today/this week/this month? Who can help you? Chances are, all you have to do is ask.

Last week I had to rant about the woman with a head the size of her Mercedes who said very impolite things to me while I was on my bicycle.

Today, I have a much better story to share about human behaviour.

Some background: for my 40th birthday, I got some new phobias, notably height and enclosed spaces. Mostly I cope. A year ago it got pretty severe (apparently phobias are connected to menopause symptoms - yet another phenomenon not covered in the manual). I worked on it, and by spring I was doing much better, blithely riding the subway and taking airplanes. But when one gets stressed (and I am under a crushing amount of stress right now), phobias and other mental health annoyances rear their nasty little heads.

So... Saturday night I had enjoyed a play downtown and was waiting on the westbound platform at Bathurst station when I felt my breath start to shorten and my palms start to sweat. Whenever I'm about to ride the subway, I pick a secret helper to stand next to - somebody who looks sympathetic in case I freak out. I had pre-selected a woman in her 30s and moved closer to her. I was doing my damndest to breathe slowly, but I was starting to get light-headed, so I said to her, "Excuse me, I'm claustrophobic, and I just want you to know I might be about to faint." She was awesome. Without skipping a beat, she reached in her purse, pulled out some mints and said, "Have a mint - it'll distract you. Lean on the wall. And look how close the stairs are, right over there."

That was really all I needed. Assured that if I did faint, she would know not to send for paramedics to perform rib-crushing CPR, I stopped feeling light-headed. I felt ok to walk to the stairs. Then I took a cab home.

I don't look on it as a defeat. I didn't faint, and that was my goal. I didn't ride the subway either, but in the overall scheme of things, who cares? I rode it the next day with no problem.

And best of all, this kind and sensible stranger did just what I needed her to do in the moment.

This blog post has nothing to do with the shop, though the story takes place during my ride home from work last night. I just need to write it down to get it out of my system, and maybe to get others' thoughts.

So there I was, calmly riding south on Runnymede in the bike lane, when I was obstructed by a large white Mercedes SUV stopped not only in the bike lane, but in a construction zone, and maybe 50 meters from the intersection at Bloor. Altogether, about the most inopportune spot a person could find to stop. Her window was wide open, so I sidled up and said (without raising my voice),

"Really? You chose this spot to park?"

The driver let out a squeak, as I had totally startled her. This because she was absorbed in the task of clipping her toenails. She was in her late 20s, very blond, and very tanned. It would be a more interesting story if this Mercedes owning foot groomer was not such a cliche, but there you have it.

The woman quickly regained her composure and screamed at me,

"Go fuck yourself, you dumb bitch!"

Now, maybe I've lived a sheltered life, but I don't recall anyone ever speaking to me like this before. I don't think anyone has requested that I fuck myself within my hearing, and I'm sure I've never been called a bitch to my face. It is one of my least favourite words.

I'm not offended so much as gobsmacked by this incident. How is it that one person can address another like this? Not in the throes of an impassioned political argument, say, but on the street, with the one in the wrong doing the yelling, to boot?

Recently, I did an interview for the radio program/blog These Things That People Make. Interviewer Sarah Mangle wanted to know about the circuitous route that led me to Wise Daughters Craft Market. I told her a bit about my former life as administrator/executive director of various organizations: Ontario Literacy Coalition, Storylinks, Workers Arts and Heritage Centre, Kensington Youth Theatre and Employment Skills, and Women's Future Fund, to name most of them. Working in the non-profit sector often means a series of lateral moves, as funding winds shift. I had a particularly unerring ability to choose jobs just prior to elections, the results of which pretty much guaranteed my employment insecurity. For example, I went to work for a labour museum just before Harris took over from Rae in Ontario. Apparently, I like a challenge.

I retired from the non-profit sector for the first time in 2003, the year I turned 40. What started as a proposal to barter for Pilates classes turned into a full-time job managing a successful Pilates studio. I learned a lot about how to run a small business, and quickly discovered it's way easier than running a non-profit. That's when the entrepreneurial seed was planted. I was lured back to work for a national feminist organization, but of course, mere months later, Harper dismantled Status of Women Canada. When I was laid off from that job, I decided I was done. After a while, one's spirit starts to crack, if not break.

My path to entrepreneurship was delayed a bit further by a really interesting contract to do with feminist archives, but ultimately the idea took hold.

Now that it's been 2 1/2 years, it's hard to imagine ever giving up the freedom of running what I jokingly call a "benevolent dictatorship." No boards to report to, no meetings, no minutes, no schmoozing, no compromises. The mistakes are all mine, but so are the triumphs. This work feels like play, and that's pretty priceless.

This past weekend marked both Worldwide Knit in Public Day and International Yarn Bombing Day. Wise Daughters celebrated both with a knitting party that brought out knitters for one of the most relaxed community events I've ever organized. Knitting is just so calming and lovely. Everybody should try it. A bunch of novices did just that, including one young man who decided to come see what it was all about, with a view to knitting his brother's new baby a blankie. People found him nearly as adorable as the 4 year-old who made yarn bracelets for the band (The Girls are Back in Town - a very talented group!).

This was the scene early in the afternoon. Note the green coverings on the traffic bollards. In the right foreground, you can see Dawn Juruc getting ready to attach the crowning glory of these yarnbombs - hot pink crocheted flowers. There is nothing I love more than a good yarnbomb. This anonymous, seemingly random act of beauty serves no purpose other than to bring pleasure to passers-by. What could be more perfect?

It's entirely possible people will not be able to resist taking these flowers home with them, so I encourage you to pass by 3079B Dundas West (facing Quebec Ave, south of the corner) asap!

Right at the beginning of 2011, I had a creativity coaching session with Lisa Pijuan-Nomura. I promised her I would "make" for an hour a day for 90 days, and I did (I am very disciplined when somebody gives me a task). Then I had a spurt of creativity when I dreamt up my Wise Daughters sleep/lounge/everything wear, soon to go into production.

Last week I took Christine Pensa's silkscreening workshop here at the shop, and I was instantly smitten. The urge to silkscreen everything in my path has overtaken me. In the workshop, I made a stencil loosely based on the Wise Daughters flower. Now I have all kinds of design ideas.

Being a business woman with one eye on the bottom line, I thought about what I'd like to make that I think my customers would want to have. Full-sized fabric dinner napkins came to mind. Eco-conscious consumers want reusable, sustainable products, as do I. With a quick bit of googling, I found a local supplier of lovely organic cotton napkins, perfect for embellishing with colourful images. My order is in, and as soon as they arrive, I'll be happily whiling away the quieter summer shop hours playing with my brand new screen, squeegee and inks.

Right at the beginning of 2011, I had a creativity coaching session with Lisa Pijuan-Nomura. I promised her I would "make" for an hour a day for 90 days, and I did (I am very disciplined when somebody gives me a task). Then I had a spurt of creativity when I dreamt up my Wise Daughters sleep/lounge/everything wear, soon to go into production.

Last week I took Christine Pensa's silkscreening workshop here at the shop, and I was instantly smitten. The urge to silkscreen everything in my path has overtaken me. In the workshop, I made a stencil loosely based on the Wise Daughters flower. Now I have all kinds of design ideas.

Being a business woman with one eye on the bottom line, I thought about what I'd like to make that I think my customers would want to have. Full-sized fabric dinner napkins came to mind. Eco-conscious consumers want reusable, sustainable products, as do I. With a quick bit of googling, I found a local supplier of lovely organic cotton napkins, perfect for embellishing with colourful images. My order is in, and as soon as they arrive, I'll be happily whiling away the quieter summer shop hours playing with my brand new screen, squeegee and inks.

Last week Wise Daughters hosted a workshop on The Art of Marketing via Social Media, led by Erin Calhoun-Mangat. Erin really knows her way around not only Facebook and Twitter, but a whole host of social media sites I'd never heard of. She effectively demystified the whole confusing business, helping participants - all small arts entrepreneurs - figure out where to focus their energies.

Two short years ago, I thought Facebook was strictly a vehicle for youth to post stupid pictures of themselves, mostly drinking. More than 400 fans later, I realize how vital a tool it is for marketing Wise Daughters. Especially because I run workshops and events, it's a highly efficient way to get invitations out to my target audience of crafters. It's also become an important source of information for me. I'd never hear about many of the cultural or political events I attend without it. How did I manage before FB?

I struggle a bit with the separation between personal and professional online circles. Earlier this year, I found I had "friended" a bunch of people who are really business associates. At risk of offending them, I carried out an "unfriending" exercise, just so I could feel more comfortable posting family photos or other personal bits of information on my own profile page. Unlike many FB users, I prefer some privacy.

I have also embraced Twitter, despite stronger initial reservations. At first glance, it looked like nothing but banal lunch menu musings to me, but all that changed during the G20, when it was the single best way to find out what was really happening to people. I've also seen its effectiveness as a marketing tool. There's no better proof than a customer who barrels in to see whatever new item I've just posted.

It's kind of funny writing instead of talking to people - it can feel like my words are just floating off into a vacuum. But then days, weeks or even months later, a customer will refer to something I posted. This isn't at all how I have thought about community in past decades, but I have to acknowledge it's community nonetheless.

I just turned 48. Many mothers my age have kids under or around 10 years old. Mine are nearly 25 and 19. Yes, I became a parent freakishly early for my era. And it was a fairly crazy thing to do. Yet as I listened to a group of women friends tell the bald truth about raising kids at a recent dinner party, I felt affirmed in my reproductive course of action. As one mum pointed out, if you've never had the pleasure of disposible income or leisure time as an adult, you don't miss it when kids arrive. The main theme of the discussion was energy - as in the vast energy it takes to care for small children. By the time I turned 40 and acquired a penchant for rest and comfort, my daughters were leaving and entering adolescence, respectively. They were welcome to stay up later than me if they wanted. They could take themselves places on the TTC. It was awesome.

I could never have opened Wise Daughters two years ago if my kids had been at more dependent stages. A small business sucks up huge resources of time, as well as money. I don't know how parents of young children manage, frankly. Not that I didn't work hard when I was young, and my kids were young. But this is all-consuming in a way a regular job simply isn't. I don't remember how I coped with commuting, challenging paid work, constant housework, school projects, extra-curricular activities and all the other demands of parenting, but I did. And I'm guessing my youth helped a lot.

Now here I am, settled in a condo my partner and I affectionately call "Club Crone". Neither daughter lives at home. One has been criss-crossing the country and may or may not land nearby when she wraps up her Master's in the coming months. The other is taking off for European adventures before university. It's a funny sensation. I'm thankful modern technology makes it easy to touch base with them daily, no matter where they are or what they're doing. It's amazing how close we can remain when we're physically far apart. But it still feels odd to have an empty nest already.

At least I've increased the odds that it'll fill up with visiting grandbabies before I'm too old to get down on the floor and play with them.

I have written in this space about how my mother wanted to be a fashion designer, but her father dissuaded her, arguing it was a frivolous pursuit. I never even learned to sew, yet one night a couple of months ago, I dreamt up the perfect pyjama - actually dreamt it, in vivid detail, in my sleep. At least I thought so when I woke up and drew my design. This perfect pyjama answers several needs I feel are not satisfied by my existing sleepwear: to breathe, flow, keep me warm enough but not overheated, to leave the sweaty cleavage region exposed, and to be beautifully flattering and lovely to the touch.

I promptly phoned my friend Anna Redish, who often teaches here at Wise Daughters, to ask her to help me. Being a wildly creative type, she fully embraced the idea that I had created a viable design without knowing the first thing about sewing, pattern-making or fabric. In no time, we were on the phone to a local bamboo supplier, and over the course of a few afternoons, Anna created a first draft of the pattern. She sewed a prototype, which I put on and she pinned in all the places we decided small adjustments were necessary. But even this first garment is phenomenally close to what I imagined in my dream. It feels fantastic.

When I had it on over my tights and tank top yesterday, a customer exclaimed that she would absolutely wear this out to dinner with a snazzy scarf or bold necklace. Being made of beautiful bamboo, there is no reason this outfit couldn't be worn pretty much anywhere, as well as in bed. This revelation opens up a world of marketing possibilities.

Now Anna has made a second draft of the pattern, ready to go to the grader (I have learned this is a person who sizes patterns; Cynthia of Black Daffodil referred me to hers). It's getting real! After we have the patterns finished, we'll sew up more samples in the smallest and biggest sizes (and by we, I mean Anna), and try them on women of different body types to see if they find them as comfy as I do. I'm hoping that if it makes my modest bust and immodest bum look good, it'll do wonders for anyone.

The next step will be to produce a small run. I have determined that it will be more cost effective to have the bamboo supplier manufacture them, here in Toronto, than to contract the cutting and sewing to individuals. This will mark a departure from Wise Daughters' primary mandate, but I feel like I need to give this a try. If it works, it will literally be a dream come true.

Look out for the launch of Wise Daughters Wear this fall!