This is the first official blog post from our home at PJP Buttonwood.  It only took seven months, 47 shouty conversations, and 1,827 moments of self-doubt, but WE HAVE ARRIVED.  And to have a permanent home feels as every bit as delightful as we hoped it might...though still new and a little out of routine.  Like when you move into a new house and you wake up on the first morning and it takes your brain a second to remember that you are in a new bedroom in a new house on a new street. We received our final "you are good to go" letter from the City of Columbia on Wednesday.  We were sitting in Panera with iced coffee and bagels and Susan from HBI texted me:


We were THRILLED to learn the city had approved us and then, well, then we were overwhelmed.  I think I had been so obsessed about the process of getting open, I hadn't really invested significant emotional energy into thinking about what being open would look like.  And as one of my favorite Inner Circle people said to me earlier this week, "you are an almost 40 year old business owner, get used to it."  What?  Even thought my world was all the same in the most important ways, Susan's text with our green light news made everything feel all very different.  I promise the quickest way to make you feel older and more responsible than you ever imagined yourself to be is to have a conversation about renting dumpsters.

So when we unlocked our doors yesterday morning at 10:30, I expected some sort of cosmic or seismic shift to reflect the upheaval going on in my brain.  But the world went on just like all the Thursdays before we ever even contemplated PJP V. 2.0.  I think what I'm trying to say is that while the world feels the same right now, we don't.  It is like pushing through to find a part of yourself that you didn't know existed or spending time with someone you find completely delicious and realizing you like them even more than you thought possible.  (As an aside, I've listened to The Avett Brothers "Magpie and Dandelion" all week while working in our new space and forever hearing any song from that album will make me think of this week.  "I and Love and You" could be forever in my top ten favorite songs).

Two days in and we starting to settle in our new space.  We finally have a sign on the door, even though we don't have a phone because we keep forgetting to buy one.  We've learned we can bake about 20 pies at a time, even though they tend to sell as quickly as they come out of the oven.  We've learned that having Sysco deliver to our space and wheel it directly into our kitchen instead of meeting us in a random parking lot and loading it in my car IS SO MUCH BETTER.  We've learned that getting to see so many people we like all during the day is more fun that we could have ever guessed.  We've learned that we probably should have asked for more outlets.  And we've learned that retail staging is a gene that apparently skips two generations at a time.  And that reflection of the Bank of Missouri building as the sun sets can leave you temporarily convinced you are blind.  And we have learned that there are hosts of companies that will come and bring you fresh towels and aprons every week and why doesn't someone start that as a home service because clean towels that I don't have to fold are clean towels that I like.

So if you haven't stopped by to hang out with us in our new space, put it on your list.  When everything feels out-of-routine, seeing familiar faces come through the door makes us feel more at home.  We will be there tomorrow with a huge assortment of pies for Easter from 9 until 1.  And then we plan to drink wine, listen to The Avett Brothers (I can't get enough), and reflect upon our first three days as a legitimate business.