Monday, November 29, 2010
So this is what's next...
As I sit here, typing, there is a massive dish of turkey pot pie in the oven, bubblin' away. Turkey. The last of the white meat. Still legs and thighs left in the fridge. And I hate leftovers. Oh, the turkey. It was delicious, but, in hindsight, a 13 lb bird for four people who love side dishes more than anything was probably a bit on the large side. Oh well. Thus, the pot pie.
How was your Thanksgiving? We had an excellent, low key day with Matt's family and the aforementioned excessive bird. I wore a cute apron. The cats managed to stay off the table during dinner. We watched the parade AND the dog show. Good day.
Mostly I relished not being at the bakery. My first week as a free woman was glorious, so much so that I suffered a massive guilt attack and had a teary melt down in my kitchen as Matt watched. I was having a hard time reconciling my glee with the overwhelming feeling that I was no longer pulling my weight (even though my house has never been cleaner, dinners are spectacular, the laundry gets done every day, and I'm handmaking all our Christmas gifts...). I dreaded not having a job almost equally as much as I dreaded getting called for an interview and giving up my glory days. And as I sobbed about losing my purpose and my crushing guilt and how I wish I could just be an artist, my sweet husband just stared at me puzzled, sighed, and said, "So why don't you not worry about it at all until January, and in the mean time, try to figure out how you can just be an artist?" And I blinked back my tears, and wiped my snotty nose on my sleeve, and said, "....Really?" And my darling husband said, "Sure."
And that's how I ended up staying up until the wee hours of the morning, researching printers and archival ink and packaging and shipping containers and etsy and crafter's guilds and Oh. Emm. Gee. Y'all, I'm gonna be an artist.
Almost everyone I've told has been supportive in the extreme. My parents are delighted. Our friends in Virginia are already planning a commissioned painting. I've got a few skeptical extended family members, but you know, they'll just have to get over it. This is something I have to try. If I fail, I fail, and I find a new safe job, or my next life's passion, or whatever. At least I know I took a shot at finding bliss in my work. Who wouldn't want to take a chance like that?
In the mean time I'm also still, you know, living my life and all. Decorating for Christmas, making pot pie, cranking out presents, going to the park. I'm making Jeff Hertzberg and Zoe Francios' Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day, which has been pretty cool so far--an experiment worthy of a post of it's own, maybe later this week. Whether I'm hanging ornaments or walking the dogs, though, my head is still racing...planning...pondering...
It never stops. This is a good thing.
Ladies who've gone before me...if you have any advice, things you wish you knew when you started an art-based business...don't be shy. Share. I'm all ears.