I thought I saw a new store front business in town, and it was a rock shop.  Then I thought to myself, I must be mistaken.  Nobody in their right mind starts a rock shop.  Wow.  Did I really say that out loud?    I have been fighting this attitude for years, and I've blogged about it and raved about it, and now I've fallen prey to it myself.  Yesterday I found an ad in the classified section of the local shopper.  I was right.  Someone has started a rock shop downtown.

My parents had a rock shop.  So did my grandfather.  My parents were told in both subtle and not so subtle ways that rocks are a hobby, not a business.  As I see it my parents were beaten down by this attitude, persistent and relentless,

until they believed it themselves.  I often wonder why the nosy neighbors and others (I don't really remember who it was) couldn't have afforded them the dignity of  calllng it a seasonal business.  Which it was.  Kind of like a resort.  They would have felt much better about themselves.  Confidence and support might have pushed their enterprize into a more viable arena.  My parents were too poor for hobbies and they used every dime for living expenses.  Sometimes I could cry.

People try to pull that s*** on me too.  When somebody stops in and refers to my hobby I try to set them straight but my first impulse is to say &%#@$%^.  And no, this isn't a hobby farm. This is where my grandparents made a living and raised seven kids.

A new rock shop in town!  Competition?  No, not at all.  Just wind in my sails.

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