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.

So that happened...

Well, I am officially unemployed.

Shortly after my last post, as if on cue (thanks, Universe, you have one hell of a sense of humor!), my replacement, the one I'd spent a month training, abruptly quit. Goodbye, days of freedom! So long, walks in the park!

So, I went back to work full time. For another three weeks. Luckily, resourceful gal that I am, I was able to contact my former decorating instructor, and with her help, I found my own *new* replacement. And she's leaps and bounds better than the last one. And she came everyday, and she learned from me, and she survived the scrutiny of my bosses. I think I love her.

Friday was my last day, without much pomp and circumstance. No parties or speeches or cards or gifts, just hugs and heartfelt goodbyes, which was just fine. In fact, it never felt like a last day. That is, until I got in my car and drove away. Approximately 50 feet from my parking space, I felt the lump in my throat rise, and the tears well. Endings, no matter how they are reached, always make me sad.

My last cake, for a Movie Themed Party

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In other somewhat related news, it looks like I did NOT get the dream job I interviewed for (that one I felt so confident about, naturally--Universe, you are a HOOT!). Beyond my disappointment in not getting the job, the way it was handled was nothing short of unprofessional, and the best thing I can say is, well, glad I'm not going to be working for employers who treat their job candidates that way. Things work out the way they're supposed to, I suppose. I'll get over it. But I have to admit, the opportunity to work in an art related field was really attractive...maybe another opportunity just as good is around the corner. I'm keeping my eyes open, and the creative juices flowing...

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While I look elsewhere (elsewhere and everywhere), I have a million ideas and projects to work on, and I have to admit, I'm pretty psyched about them. I decided rather suddenly this week to declare this year a Handmade Christmas, and I've already spent an inordinate amount of time compiling a notebook full of ideas, pictures, magazine clippings, and lists of web references. I want to make 90% of the gifts (okay, that figure is up for revision at anytime, but it's a goal, anyway). Tomorrow I'm dragging the ancient (no, let's call it... vintage) sewing machine out of my garage, and making learning to use it my pet project for the week. Gotta love a challenge, and besides, I've got some time on my hands :)

Last year's Sock Dog..more to come!