A Freelance Mom's Club? Maybe?

A little while back, I wrote a blog post called “I Need To Put A Name On This Thing I Do”. Well, I still don’t necessarily have a name for it (although I think deciding to refer to myself as a “freelance mom” was a step in that direction), but I would like to kind of follow-up here on the train of thought I had going on then. Basically, I would like to start toying with the idea of reaching out and finding some other moms to join me in my endeavors and adventures.

What I have in mind, at least for now, is a sort of casual, loose-knit club of sorts. Perhaps in the future it could evolve into something of a more formally organized nature, but I do tend to shy away from the restrictions, structure and, well – politics, to be frank – that tend to come along with a large organization, so we will have to see about that. That’s for another time, though. What I’m thinking of now is something like this:

A few moms, probably four to five at most, who get together for lunch or breakfast once a month to discuss and plan what things we may be able to do to be of help to the needy youth of our community. The group would need to consist of moms who have a heart for teens and young adults, have a little bit of time to spare, and have a lot of patience (these kids will really tax you in the patience department, so dealing with them is not for the person who needs to see immediate results, nor is it for the thin-skinned). I do not – so nor would this group – try to take the place of professional social workers or social service organizations. Rather, we would keep up with services available through such organizations, thus making us able to send a young person in the right direction when they have a need. At the same time, we would plan occasional projects, “random acts of kindness” if you will, such as handing out cold water bottles or sack lunches, gathering donations of clothing and toiletries for youth shelters, or even setting up events such as my Christmas project from last year.

In the process of all this, I suspect other moms will have the same experience I’ve had: Every now and then, you encounter a young person with whom you just “click”. From there, a relationship grows. Soon you’re a mentor, a listener, a shoulder to cry on, a support system in times of crisis, maybe even a laundromat (lol) or a pseudo academic advisor. It can go anywhere, really. Before you know it, you’re in the mom role to someone who needs one.

My thoughts on all this are still loosely rattling around in my head, but I wanted to go ahead and talk about it here because I’m curious to see if anyone expresses an interest in joining me, offers comments or suggestions, or even tells me I’m crazy. Ha ha. Please feel free to comment, or even to contact me privately if you wish. My e-mail is salmagundigeneral@yahoo.com. I’d love to hear from anyone who has anything to contribute – ideas, fleeting thoughts, questions, suggestions, whatever!

"Project Pookie Launch" ~ Join Us For A Most Awesome Rummage Sale!

I’d like to tell you about my wonderful daughter, and ask everyone to stop by our “Online Rummage Sale” to help her achieve her dream.

Actually, first allow me to back up for a moment and say this: When I post here on my blog, typically I talk about the homeless and at-risk young people that are a part of my life. There are occasions, however, when I find it necessary to step back from all of that and focus on the needs of one of my own biological children. Now, for the first time, I feel the need to do that here online. One of my own needs a little help, and of course she is no less important that one of my “strays” (as I affectionately call them). This is not a negative situation I’m talking about, though. Quite the opposite! She has the opportunity of her lifetime in front of her, and I would like to help make it possible for her to grab it.

(If you’d like to skip the story I’m about to tell and just find out about our sale, go ahead and scroll your happy self on down to the last paragraph here.)

My daughter’s name is Kristen, but since she was about three days old, Kristen has been known as “Pookie” to those who love her. Many variations on this nickname frequently come into play: The Pookster, The Pookinator, and of course the simple “Pook”. Thus, we are calling this little half-baked idea of a rummage sale (yeah, I can admit that) – drum roll please – “Project Pookie Launch”.

Having been born into a family that loved and cared for her, Kristen has not experienced many of the disadvantages that my “strays” have dealt with, but that doesn’t mean she was born with the proverbial silver spoon in her mouth, and it certainly doesn’t mean she hasn’t struggled. Her father jumped ship when she was just five and she hasn’t seen him since, so she has grown up in a single-parent home. She’s had health problems for most of her life; I won’t waste too much space on that here, but suffice it to say that she missed a lot of school. She worked hard to keep up, though, and proudly became the first person in her family to graduate high school in over 40 years (yes, that includes me, but my life is another story). This was no small feat, either. In 2007, her junior year of high school, she was hospitalized and we almost lost her. This happened in her second semester that year, and yet she bounced back and worked hard and maintained all her credits. She went on to her senior year and graduated from not just any high school, but a rigorous prep school (listed in Newsweek Magazine that year as one of the top 4% of schools in the country). Did her Momma proud.

Now, let’s back up once more, because this matters: When Kristen was three years old, she took her first trip to Disneyland. It was her reward – for lack of a better word – after she recovered from surgery. This wasn’t because of health problems; she’d been mauled by a pit bull when she was two and a half. See, I told you she’s had a rough time of it!

Anyway, of course she loved Disneyland. Every kid loves Disneyland! But Kristen took a special liking to it, and she’s been passionate about Disney her whole life since. Whenever she’s had an opportunity to get to California, she’s had to spend a day at Disneyland (I don’t even know now how many times she’s been there). All through her teens she continued to regularly watch her favorite Disney movies (The Little Mermaid and Aladdin, in particular), she was the only high school student I knew who still kept her Lion King action figures on display in her room, and for her high school graduation gift she just wanted to go to Disneyland (that wish was granted by her grandparents). My point is that this girl loves Disney!

Pookie is now entering her third year of college, and this is where we get to the fun part of the story. After a long process of applications and testing and interviews, she has been accepted into the Disney College Program, where she will spend a semester working in the Disneyland theme park and taking classes through Disney University. Yay! Once this semester-long internship is completed, she has high hopes that she will be offered the opportunity to stay on with Disney and follow a career path that they’ll help her plan (this is something they do with their successful interns). She wants this very badly – as you can imagine – and plans to put everything she’s got into achieving her goal of a career with Disney. As her mom, of course I want her to reach her dreams and I’ll do everything I can to support her. Everything and anything I can!

But… You knew there’d be a “but”, didn’t you? It’s going to be expensive to get her to Disney. I suppose the word “expensive” is relative, and there may be some of you reading this who’ve had experience with the Disney College Program and did not find it all that difficult to send your bright-eyed and bushy-tailed young student off to seek their dreams. For our family, though, it’s quite costly, and as the time for her to leave draws nearer, it’s really hitting home with us. We are realizing that, without a little boost, we simply don’t have the funds to get her there with all the things she needs. Never ones to give up without a fight, of course we came up with an idea to raise the needed money: We’ll have a rummage sale!

Now, having a little bit of sense in our collective heads around here, we realized that we couldn’t have a successful “normal” rummage sale because this is Phoenix, and it’s summer, and it is approximately 386 degrees outside. Well, I exaggerate, but only a little bit. Anyway, we discussed this, and a light bulb flashed on above my head (I suppose it could have been a heat-related hallucination, but I like to think it was a light bulb, like in cartoons) because I had a great idea. We’d hold the rummage sale in my online booth! Open it up to the world! Local folks can rummage-sale-shop to their heart’s content from the comfort of their own computer screens and then just come pick up the items they’d like, and everyone else can order their items by mail.

Lots of stuff was donated and gathered from far and wide, as well as from right here at home. Items were sorted and dusted, treasures were inspected and photographed, stockings were hung by the chimney with… Wait, that’s a different event. In any case, we put lots of work into it (and are still working!) and now we have the booth loaded with all sorts of goodies. All the variety and different kinds of things you’d find at any “regular” rummage sale, and at genuinely low rummage sale prices!

And so, you are cordially invited to join us for the first, the one and the only… “Project Pookie Launch Online Rummage Sale”!

Here’s the info you’ve been waiting for:

From Saturday 07/31/10 through Saturday 08/14/2010, visit Rummage Rampage, my booth at Bonanzle. Browse the various awesome items and be thrilled at the amazing prices. Then shop, shop, shop! If you live in the Phoenix area, you can ignore the shipping prices shown and just pick your item up in person (if you want, that is). If you live somewhere else, you can select your items and have them mailed to you. In either case, please click on my profile when you arrive (it can be found in each and every listing and on the main booth page). That’s where you will find specific instructions on how to receive discounts, save even more money (gasp!), and possibly get lower shipping rates than those shown. And visit often during the sale dates, because we keep getting and adding more stuff!

See you there! I mean, see you here: Click Here To Visit Rummage Rampage ! J

Zach Bonner - A Twelve Year Old Inspiration!

I just read the greatest story about 12-year-old Zach Bonner and his walk across America (1,950 miles so far, and more to go) to raise money for homeless youth. What an amazing young man. I am in awe. There's not much I can add that isn't already in the New York Times story, so I just wanted to encourage everyone to read it.

Also, take a look at his web site, for The Little Red Wagon Foundation, which he founded when he was only six. The world could certainly use more Zach Bonners.

This is short, but I have nothing more to add; his story speaks for itself. Just kudos to Zach, and I hope everyone will throw some support his way!

Preparing to End a Life Chapter

I’ve been feeling a bit panicky lately over the idea of my daughter moving away, and over the last few days it has really been hitting hard. I think it’s because I sense the month of July coming to an end, and there’s something about the month of August that makes me feel a twinge of desperation. In August she leaves.

Naturally, as this time has been approaching, my mind has had a tendency to wander back over the years and examine her life – and my life with her – in not just a sentimental way (oh, that sentimentality thing is there, but it’s not the only thing), but sort of like I think an artist or an author might look over their work once it’s published or presented to the masses. Second guessing things that are too late to change. Questioning, and maybe sometimes rationalizing, and then repeatedly reaching the conclusion that it doesn’t matter now, what’s done is done. Did I do this right? Did I do that right? Was that the correct approach, the correct way to handle things, the correct message I taught? Did I do too much of something, or too little? Was I a good example? Did I do my job well?

When I reflect, as I am sure millions of moms before me have done in the same circumstance as their first baby leaves the nest, and I feel anxious about my self-evaluation, I just go back to asking myself the same question: Did I do the absolute best I could? I can honestly answer “yes”. And I may continue to pick at it like a scab, test myself, see if I am being really honest with myself, but the answer is still always “yes”. That gives me comfort. I did my best, and no one can do better than their best. So, whatever mistakes I may have made, whatever judgment calls probably should have gone differently in retrospect, whatever choices I might tweak just a bit if I had them to make again, I did do my best. And because I know that, and because I reach that same conclusion no matter how many times I repeat the questions in my head, and because I am secure in it, I can let her go out into the world and feel good about the kind of mom I’ve been.

But then there is this: What will I do without her?

This is, as you canprobably infer from my tone, my firstborn child. I had her when I was just twenty years old, and so it occurred to me – this is the one human being who has been with me for all of my adult life, day in and day out, always there. Her father, my ex-husband, left our family for good when she was only five years old and I was still carrying her brother. So, it was her and me. She was there through everything I’ve gone through, always there.

Now, I was fortunate enough (and I say “fortunate enough” rather than “smart enough” because I really cannot take credit for this – other moms in similar circumstances may not have been given the information I was lucky enough to have received) to know better than to lean on my child for emotional support when her father and I separated and I began the challenging life of a single mother. I’d read it somewhere, or heard it somewhere, or both, that you aren’t supposed to do that. I’dlearned, somewhere or somehow, that children in such situations need to know that you are strong and in control, so I let her see that I was strong and in control. Only in recent times, after she’d reached adulthood, did she begin to hear some of the stories of things I’d been through. She expressed shock at the crises and emergencies and traumas that had been going on right in her own home, with her own mom, while she was blissfully unaware. When she was surprised at these things, I was pleased at that response. It meant I’d done my job. I’d shielded her and protected her from the things that were not her job to handle. I am glad someone told me to do that.

As her departure approaches, though, and I look back, I realize something: Even when I was not leaning on her, she was holding me up. She didn’t even know – nor should she have – how much she was providing for me. She kept me busy and amused and entertained when she was little – kindergarten plays and Halloween costumes can be more therapeutic for a young and struggling mom than any of us may be aware of in the moment. As she got a little bigger, she absorbed from me and shared with me my absolute passion for the holiday season; it was she who was by my side on all of the days webaked cookies, through the tedious but wonderful tradition every year of stringing popcorn and cranberries and edible goodies into a garland to hang outside for the birds in our trees, through the annual hunt for just the right Halloween Tree (that’s another story), through the laughter and the crankiness that came along without fail each year as I covered our home in Christmas lights.

She became a pre-teen and we shared a love of movies, then she became a teen and the movies got better (ha ha). By then she could also tell me when the clothes I was wearing were totally uncool, even though I didn’t care. And she didn’t care that I didn’t care; she liked and accepted me just as I was, in my “mom jeans” and tee shirts, with all my quirks. She was able to teach me how to send a text message (although I only did it once). At age sixteen she shocked me by going into the kitchen and whipping up a batch of brownies that I could never in a million years have topped. I had no idea she’d been watching so closely! And also, I now see, I had no idea how much she was sharing with me, and how much she was growing into my friend.

And now my friend is moving away. She isn’t leaving me and she won’t stop being my friend, of course, but she won’t be sharing my daily life anymore. She won’t be there to tell me if that picture looks good by that door, or watch the bad TV shows that are our “guilty pleasure”, or step up and make her most awesome pot roast to feed the family dinner when I am too tired to cook. She won’t be quietly but firmly hushing the boys into another room when I have a headache (no one knows my headaches quite like she does) or sharing our favorite treat with movies - a big bowl of artery-clogging buttered popcorn with a large bag of peanut M&M’s dumped right into it. I feel the loss approaching, getting closer and closer, each time we do something together for what I fear – rationally or irrationally – will be the last time.

My home will never be empty, that I know. I have my son and my beloved “strays”, my foster son and my pseudo-daughters, and there will surely be even more of them to come. But none will ever be that person who was always there, through everything, keeping me company and being my companion. None will ever know me like she does.

You know what’s funny, in a way? My sadness over her leaving actually makes me happy at the same time. It means that I have managed to nurture the kind of relationship with my daughter that leaves this kind of hole behind when it changes and moves on, the kind of relationship that includes so many things worth missing. And that means they were worth having.

Josie

Our cat died today. Well, it's after midnight now, so I guess it was technically yesterday. She was old, it was time, and I guess there isn't really a lot to say. We knew it was getting close, and about four days ago she started to refuse food and water. She stopped purring when someone would pet her, but she still lifted her head to be stroked. For about three days she moved back and forth between a comfortable spot in the bathroom and a dark corner of the closet, but she would slowly get up and come to greet us when we'd come in the room. Clearly she still wanted to be touched.

Today (yesterday) she came out toward the front of the closet and just re-positioned herself there in the doorway. She laid down on her side, and she stayed that way all day. She "spoke" to my son once in the morning (her first and only little "meow" since this began), and then put her head back down. About five hours later he was sitting with her when she let out her last breath.

Here's what is interesting to me: This was my 20-year-old daughter's cat. My daughter has had her since she was five years old, named her after Josie and the Pussycats. Well, now my daughter is preparing to move away from home within the next few weeks. All the buzz around our house lately is about my daughter leaving, everyone is making preparations, everyone is talking about it. One thing she was concerned about was who would take care of her cat, and knowing the cat was old and might not live through the next six months (the earliest my daughter can come home again), worrying about whether she'd see Josie again at all. Well, Josie timed her exit just perfectly. It sounds dramatic, but it really was like ending a chapter in my daughter's life, and Josie's passing being the final closure to the final open plot-line in that chapter. Now my daughter can grieve, and in a few weeks move on to the next stage of her life - her adulthood and career.

Sad, and yet not sad. Two lives that were shared and then parted in an almost synchronized way. Maybe Josie knew it was the right time. That sounds silly, but I'm just saying...

R.I.P. Josie, you grumpy old kitty cat. You'll be missed, and fondly remembered.

Perspective

Moving this to my new home here, originally posted on my thoughts.com blog on 07/05/2010:

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This afternoon – and I don’t recall how it started – my foster son and I got into a heated discussion (not angry, just intense) over the issues of states’ rights, large central government and its boundaries, the American Civil War, property rights, “rule of law” vs. “might makes right” ideologies, the United Nations, politics, the threat of Iran, public schools, and a variety of other however-loosely-related (or not) topics. We went on for hours. I sometimes get frustrated at how darned argumentative he can be. Not that it isn’t interesting to have conversations with him, but he is relentless!

Now, I should mention that I’ve been really stressed out lately. Really stressed out. My hours at work have been cut, my online sales are way down, my ex-husband has stopped paying child support, and I’m not even sure how we are going to pay the bills this month. The dog needs dental work and he’s in a lot of pain. Our house has mice all of a sudden (great). Our roof needs to be fixed. My car started overheating, so I have nothing to drive. My son and I have not been getting along, which causes me so much lost sleep. My grandmother was recently put into a nursing home with Alzheimer’s, the family is all tense about handling her business matters, and everyone is at each other’s throats. I have prescriptions that I’ve been out of for weeks because I can’t afford to refill them. Our dryer is broken. I’m preparing for my daughter to leave for an internship in California, and although it is a wonderful opportunity for her, it’s going to be expensive to get her there. I could go on, and on and on. Stressed.

So, I started to get a little cranky during our discussion. He seemed like he wanted to go on forever. I was getting tired. This was getting on my nerves. Did he think I had nothing better to do? Did I care about the American South’s point of view during the Civil War right now, when I have so much to take care of?

I left the room to go get some work done. When I’d had a few moments alone, grumbling to myself about how irritating and opinionated that young whippersnapper could be, I suddenly remembered and was hit with a cold splash of perspective to the proverbial face.

I remembered when I first met this young man, when he first came to my home back in 2006. He was a high-school dropout, having barely completed his sophomore year, and not having even attended school for the early elementary years of kindergarten through second grade. He spoke street slang exclusively, and I couldn’t even understand half of what he said. He was a drug addict – heavily dependent on cocaine. He sold drugs to support his habit, and he also burglarized homes and stole cars. Although never really actively involved, he had been “jumped” into a gang. He came from a severely abusive home and trusted no one. He admittedly came to our home with the intention of continuing his “street thug” lifestyle, and using us for a place to live for as long as he could get away with it. When I tried to speak to him back then, he openly stated that he could not really trudge up any sympathy for the victims of his crimes, and he didn’t feel he had the capacity to care about people other than himself. He acknowledged having absolutely no ambitions for his life. In keeping with that goal – or lack thereof – he managed to get himself arrested on a fairly regular basis, and calls from the police became part of my daily life.

That was 2006. Now it’s 2010, and this young man is entering his third year at Arizona State University. He’s taking summer classes right now, wanting to stay on track after missing some credits his freshmen year. He has lived with us for four years (still here at the age of 20) and has been “clean” for over three years. There was one exception – a relapse in early 2008 – at which time he called me within minutes to come and get him, scared, not wanting to fall back.

He is respectful and helpful in our home, he writes letters to his former “homies” in prison, encouraging them to turn their lives around. He packs sack lunches with me and helps distribute them to the homeless, often being the “front man” for that sort of project because he is bi-lingual. He bought his own car, which he’s very proud of. He works with me at my cleaning job. Wanting to eventually be accepted to the Herberger School of Music, he takes music lessons – which he pays for on his own – from the best teacher he could find, and drives out to Grady Gammage Auditorium (across town from our house) each week for those lessons. He studies hard, practices hard, and is one of the most driven and motivated people I’ve ever met. He reads books – tons of books. He even reads the newspaper every day.

I thought about all of this, about the changes in this young man from then to now. Amazing changes. And I thought about how I could listen to him argue all day and I would not complain. He has opinions on Congress, foreign policy and whether Plato was a Sophist! How could I forget that at one time he had no opinions about anything? How could I have let it slip my mind that once he had not cared whether he lived or died from one day to the next, nor whether anyone else did? Once he owed a drug debt, now he owes the occasional late library fine.

If an opinionated and stubborn afternoon argument is the worst I get from this kid, I think we’re doing very well. I vow never to grumble about it again.

I Need To Put A Name On This Thing I Do

Moving this to my new home here, originally posted on my thoughts.com blog on 06/18/2010:

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Okay, I’m looking for input, thoughts and opinions here. I need to give some form, structure, whatever – and a name – to what I do. Let me start by explaining what my life looks like, and hopefully you’ll get an idea of what it is I’m groping for.

First of all, I am a single mom. I have two children of my own, ages 15 and 20. I also have a 20-year-old foster son who still lives at home, as I am putting him through college. Beyond the presence of myself and my two biological children, the makeup of my household has always been rather “fluid”. I’ve always had a heart for teenagers and young people who don’t have solid and supportive families, and I often take them in when they need a stable home. My foster son, having been with us for almost four years now, has been in our home the longest. Over the years, however, I have had plenty of what I call my “strays” (they know I mean this term lovingly). My “strays” are kids or young people who may or may not have lived with us (most have for some period of time), and for whom I fill sort of a “mom” role, but with whom I’ve never had a legal or biological connection. My foster son is the only “stray” who ever became mine in a legal sense.

I have taken countless young people into my home for varying periods of time, from just overnight to months to years. Prior to my foster son, for example, I had a young lady who lived with us from just before her 18th birthday up until she was almost 21. As a matter of fact, as with most of the “strays” that I have bonded particularly well with, she is still a part of our everyday life – part of the family. She’s here for holidays and birthdays and family get-togethers, she’s here sometimes to do laundry or borrow the car, and she’s someone I can call on when I need help with something or can’t hang a picture straight on the wall. :)

You get the idea.

Anyway, there have been many in our home. Some remain part of the family, some do not. There are also those who have never lived with us, but for whom I’ve tried to be a source of support to the extent that I am able. There is one very young single mother, for example, that I have been working with for about six months now. I’d be happy to have her live with us, but I simply don’t have the room or the proper environment (too many college kids, too many dogs) for small children. You can read about her here: http://www.thoughts.com/salmagundi/blog/keeping-the-lifeboat -afloat-562201/

When I am not directly busy with one of my kids or one of my strays, there are other things I do to try and help out the needy, homeless or neglected youth of my community. Some of the activities that I spend most of my days doing include the following:

• I solicit, gather and deliver items (clothing, shoes, backpacks, toiletries, etc.) for Tumbleweed Center For Youth Development (www.tumbleweed.org), where I’m on a first-name basis with many of the social workers and the “higher-ups”.
• I maintain a list of resources for youth who are homeless or troubled, and I post this list regularly on my local Craigslist site. The list includes my e-mail for those who might need some individual advice, so I also field those e-mails when they come in.
• I serve as a board member for a local charter school district. I’m not always popular there since I tend to stick up for the more “difficult” students. However, it’s me they often call for advice or input when they have a student in a “situation”.
• My kids and I occasionally work on “special projects”, such as making and handing out sack lunches, or “doing Christmas” for youth who don’t otherwise have a place to spend the holiday (you can also read about that on my blog, which I linked to above).
• Etc., etc., etc. – i.e. whatever I can do.

As you can imagine, all of this can get fairly expensive. When the costs aren’t direct and obvious ones, there are the costs associated with time away from work, gas for running around, etc. I’m just a single mom who works as a church cleaning lady, and although more hours and possibly other opportunities for work might be available to me, I have too much on my plate already and I have to keep my schedule flexible if I’m to continue doing what I do. The kids are my first priority. I make up for the expense of it all by supplementing my income with what basically amounts to a forever-ongoing yard sale (selling on Craigslist and my booth on Bonanzle) that is stocked by items that are either donated by friends and family who are supportive of my “cause” or items purchased at yard sales. I also keep my personal expenses very low. I can pinch Abe Lincoln right off a penny, my friends say. Ha ha! I clip coupons, I pick up most of our household items at garage sales, I don’t have luxury items like a cell phone or a pretty car, and I don’t wear anything that costs more than a dollar. For real, that’s true! LOL!

So, that’s my life. In a nutshell. Now, back to my original question/issue:

I feel like if “what I do” had some sort of a name attached to it, I would be able to do more. I’d like to possibly get a few other moms (perhaps empty-nesters with currently untapped mom skills and free time?) to perhaps meet with me regularly and help out with some of this stuff. I’d like to be able to solicit beyond my circle of friends and family for needed items. I’d like to set up a web site and/or a Facebook page to promote awareness of the issues of homeless and neglected youth, and to maybe publish a running “wish list” of items needed by Tumbleweed and House of Hope (another organization I believe in) and, frankly, to further promote my own online sales so that I can continue and possibly improve what I already do.

A name and some kind of at least loose organization, I think, would lend me a bit of credibility with which to ask for things. Social workers at Tumbleweed have told me from time to time that I should start a non-profit. I don’t think I want to do that, exactly, because the idea brings off-putting images to my mind. I do not want to be bogged down with paperwork and administration, and I don’t want my “strays” to become “clients”. My relationships with them are much more personal than that. Maybe my fears are ill-founded, though? If so, and if anyone reading has experience with this, I’m open to hearing your thoughts.

What I’ve really had in mind is something more like a “club” of sorts. A group where people meet regularly, and anyone can just jump in and help where it’s needed. But wouldn’t I have to register the name somewhere in order to legally own it? And surely the organization – in whatever form – would need to have at least some money to cover costs of activities, projects and whatnot? And, if so, would it not have to be set up as either a business or a non-profit? There come all my fears again…

And that, folks, is the issue that’s on my mind. I need to give “this” a form and a name, but I just don’t know what exactly it is I want or how to set it up and make it work. I don’t want to jump into something very formal and very structured. I basically just want to keep doing what I am already doing, but maybe with a little help from a few others, and with the credibility of a name. Can it be done? I am open to all thoughts, ideas, input and suggestions.

Thank you for reading, and for any replies!