You win some, you lose some . . .

Well, I'm afraid that my brief time at the cafe has come to an end, dear readers. Business dropped off sharply during the month of October, and my business partners and I decided that it just wasn't working. I just came to the decision . . . some weeks before I could actually admit it out loud . . . that it wasn't going to be an investment of my time OR money that was going to be wise in the end.So even after all this work, all this heart and soul I've poured into this place . . . it's over.

I'm sorry if this disappoints some of you. I know that a lot of people have been looking up to me for following my dream. And it hurts to think that I might let some of those people down. But I really did give it my all, and I learned a lot from the experience. It's hard to pin-point exactly just went wrong, and I'm loathe to point fingers at anyone or anything in particular. It is what it is. I went through a few days of great sadness. And now I am moving on.

Onward and upward, as they say.

I have had an idea in my head for over a year now: selling my own home-made cake mixes to people who are too busy to bake from scratch. Even better, layer the ingredients and decorate them in a rustic mason jar, decorated in beautiful fabric and ribbons.

This idea has been on the backburner for me for quite some time now. I've had the supplies ready, the concept working, even the recipes picked out. When the Midland Cafe didn't work out, I know it was time to focus my attention, my energy, my passion on this project: my project.

One of the frustrating things I found with the cafe was trying to fit my "vision" with that of my business partners. Now, I am at the helm . . . I'm in full control of my own destiny.

Practical matters: I registered Vintage Victuals as an LLC. I got my friend Mrs. Southern Belle to modify my bread logo so that I could use it on my mason jars. I signed up for a local Holiday Market. I finalized my recipes, purchased holiday-themed fabrics and ribbons, and I searched far and wide for the perfect mason jars.

Then I went to work. I spent hours in the kitchen at the cafe assembling 70 jars. I brought them home and decorated them. I raided a VistaPrint sale for all sorts of fun promotional materials and gathered what I would need to decorate my booth at the Holiday Market.

Finally, I launched an Etsy shop on Etsy.com: an online marketplace for handmade crafts and goods. Then, I got ready for my big debut.

It was such a success!!!

I sold 62 jars at the Holiday Market, and I got such a positive response that I have already signed up for two more craft fairs!!! I've spent the past week re-stocking my supplies as quickly as possible to keep up with the demand. I've had several online orders through my etsy shop, and hope that the response will continue to grow as I get my name out there and market my new business.

So bear with me, dear friends. I am down, but not out. As my dream continues to evolve, I hope you will stay with me and enjoy the journey as much as I am.

Hi, Friends

It's Friday night again, and the house smells amazing!!!

I have to share something with you tonight: it's been a strange day.

Today, I got a phone call from my husband, who had gotten a phone call from X, who had gotten a phone call from Y, who had gotten a phone call from Z . . . who was a prominent figure in the legal world here in North Georgia and who had an opportunity that he wanted me to apply for.  

For the record, this opportunity would be very similar to what I'm currently doing, which I actually really enjoy.  And it would be on the local level, which would be even better!

So, dear friends.  It appears that I have a big decision to make.  At the moment, with the yeasty smell in the air striking my nose and going straight to my head, it feels like an easy decision.  But it's an important decision nonetheless. 

T-Minus-Thirty-Days

I've reach the 30-day mark at my current job. It's a sad moment as well as an exciting moment. Just one month from now, I will be diving head first into my new career. How do I feel? I really don't know. I keep trying to keep a finger on my pulse, a tab on my feelings, a monitor on my thoughts - but really, it's just a messy jumble. I think I need a mood ring or a magic eight ball to tell me what I feel, what the next month holds.

Right now, I'm sitting here listening to Corey Smith's song "I'm in Love with a Memory" as I type this, and it's really speaking to me. It rings so true. I look back now over the past 5 years of my life, and I think of how much I've enjoyed the law, enjoyed school, studying, lunch with coworkers, writing for the judge, sitting in on exciting trials, and whatnot.

It's easy to look back now and think that this life has been rosy and wonderful. It's easy to doubt my decision to make such a drastic change, to take such a monumental risk. It's easy to think about how much more stable and sure my life would be if I were following the handbook of life that my parents keep pointing me towards.

But guess what: an easy life is a boring one, an easy life is a snooze, an easy life is not what I want.

Plus, between all those wonderful parts of the past five years, there were also struggles with insomnia, bouts of depression, instances of intense disillusionment, major disappointments, unkind people, unkind words, stress that wreaked havoc on my body and my health, and an overall feeling of dissatisfaction with my life and my future.

So maybe I shouldn't be in love with a memory. I have to keep looking forward, no glances in the rearview. Onward and upward and outward I go.

Putting it all on the line

So, I think this goes without saying, but I feel the need to go ahead an put this out there:  my decision to change my life like this has created a lot of waves.  And not gentle little waves with a soft warm breeze.  Think, crashing Pacific water on huge rocky boulders. 

At first, I could barely admit to myself that I was actually considering such a drastic change.  Sure, I've always been the kind of person who thrives on change.  A summer during college in a remote Montana town as a bartender, traveling abroad on my own, going to a university in a city where I didn't know a single soul.  I like to challenge myself, to stretch my limits, knead my will, my nerve into something new and shiny and strong.

But here I was, finally settling down into a promising career when I realized: I am not happy.

Don't get me wrong, I was happy at first.  I've always loved school, loved learning, loved writing, reading, philosophizing.  Law school was a great fit.  I've always been an idealist, always desired to have a positive impact on the world.  What better way to achieve this goal than to study law, which touches every person's life in one way or another?  The perfect way to make a difference, to help people in need - how idealistic, how naive, right? But that's what I thought, so that's what I did.

Well, I loved law school.  And I've loved my job working for a judge for the past 2 years.  But big law firm life?  Not for me.  Wearing a formal business suit every.single.day? Also not for me.  Hanging my own shingle and starting my own one-woman practice?  Yep, not for me either.

Several months ago, I came to the stark realization that law school had sapped the creative life out of me.  The river had run dry.  I've been trained to think like a lawyer, to think like all lawyers, to groupthink.

So I started getting back to my roots - to what I truly love, what I'm truly passionate about, what makes me tick.  Writing, friendships, food, and family.  Chocolate, cheese, flour, and fruit.  So I started a little food blog of family recipes.  And my little food blog grew and grew.  And the creativity inside me started to grow, too.

And with this growth came change.  Change of heart.  And now my heart is on my sleeve for all to judge and see, for all to watch as I succeed or as I fail.

But at least I'm here, I'm heart, I'm happy.

There is something exhilarating about putting it all on the line.

To market, to market . . .

This Saturday marks the first week of our local farmer's market on the downtown square. This is going to be the first time that I am officially attempting to sell, market, produce my bread for profit.

Tonight, I planned to prepare some of the dough so that it could ferment or retard overnight and be ready to bake tomorrow.

Right before I walked into the kitchen, though, a tsunami of self-doubt crashed ashore in my mind. What on earth am I thinking, throwing my life upside down based on the delusion that people would actually pay money to buy my bread?!

What if I fail? What if my dough doesn't rise? What if I end up with a bunch of half-baked ideas that I am too embarrassed to sell? What on earth am I doing?!?

Deeeeep breaths. A moment to focus. And a supportive husband. These are what got me into the kitchen to bake tonight.

Much to my delight, my dough rose perfectly, doubling in bulk, pulling together, kneading into beautifully elastic hunks of goodness. My banana bread came out beautifully crisp on top, nicely domed and cracked, decadently moist on the inside. My house smelled like heaven, and I felt like myself again.

I think I'm going to be okay. I really can do this. By the end of the evening, I was prancing happily around the kitchen calling myself "The Master Baker." For now.