Oh hai!

Long time, no write...

I've been thinking I should dust off my poor old blog and add a post. Then one of my very favorite bloggers linked to this post. Go ahead and take a look - I can wait.

I originally began this blog because I felt alone and unheard. Not that I have lots of followers (hi, Mom!), but the simple act of expressing my thoughts was enough. Then I got a new job with coworkers who were fun and supportive, so I didn't feel "unheard" any longer. Over time, things have changed at that job and once again my voice feels useless. 

In light of these changes, I've started thinking seriously about trying to start my own business. I'm hoping I can start small and work it as a side gig, then when the world falls in love with my chocolates, I can jump to full time. It's not easy because the depression is still there, which makes it difficult to think clearly. It's also tough to get back into the swing of a 2nd job. I try to do a little something every day and that should become a habit.

One of the first things is to get my recipes together. Some of my older confections don't even have a recipe because I just added flavors and chocolate until it tasted right. Oh, past Sarah... (shaking head)  Taste tester volunteers are easy to find, although careful testers are a little trickier to track down. Some of my testers are family members, which means I can also work out some shipping kinks in the process.

 If you have any tips for starting a side gig, PLEASE pass them along. I'm almost afraid to start making a task list because the sheer volume of stuff to be done is overwhelming.

Goblintown

Or should that be Gobblin'town, since it's Thanksgiving weekend?  For the fun part of this post, skip to the links at the bottom.

(here is the not-fun part of this post)

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Argh.  So depressed I don't even feel like writing about being depressed.  Sad during the holidays--it's extra depressing that I'm a cliche.  Sweet merciful heavens, let this be shortlived.  What about the silver lining, you ask?  Well, I'm depressed enough that I don't feel like eating, which is good because I need to lose weight, since I'm nearly too big for my britches and can't really afford new ones.

My little buddy, who doesn't really care if I stay in my jammies all day

(here is the fun part of this post)

Also was briefly cheered when my latest trip through the interwebs rabbit hole found this article.  Cthurkey.  It's what's for dinner.  Thanks, Bloggess!

A Victor Of One's Own

I’ve been reading the archives of The Bloggess, and now that I’ve managed to stop the secret chortling (which hurts my stomach muscles, but prevents my coworkers from realizing how much fun I’m having without them), I have to make a confession.  I wish I had a Victor of my very own.  I’m pretty sure my knuckles would be sore from all of the arm punching, but my gut would also be sore from all of the laughing.

My best friend is that kind of crazy funny, but he lives far away and his wife doesn’t like me.  Not that I blame her—he and I share a secret language, but it’s kind of like the secret language that twins often have.  It doesn’t matter how much we explain that we are siblings who just happen to have different parents, either.  He and I laugh like idiots and have too much fun whenever we get together, and it just makes her tense.

Maybe I should just move to Houston and get The Bloggess to be my drinking buddy.