Not Your Average Gal

Copywriter. Content Creator. Constant Sassypants.

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What a Social Media Break Feels Like

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Spoiler Alert: It feels a lot like sitting in an outdoor tub in Carmel Valley, CA

Fallen down the social media rabbit hole again? Did you get here from Facebook? Instagram? Twitter?

It’s okay. Welcome.

The first part of recovery is admitting you have a problem.

Hi, my name is Caroline Peterson and I spend too much time on social media.

Hey, Caroline.

To be fair, part of my job as a copywriter involves writing and managing social media for some of my clients, so I do have a legitimate reason. But, we’ll get into that later as I don’t want it to come across as an excuse while we’re all holding hands singing Kumbaya.

Depending on who you ask, social media is an evil entity dividing us daily or the ultimate unifier, connecting us casually.

It can bring us hard-hitting news or our 5-year-old newphew’s birthday party pictures. It can make us laugh with silly memes or create catty misunderstandings fueling gossip. We all know how quickly the judgments start and BAM—the hide, block or delete button is used. Social media can be brutal! Heck, my own mother even deleted me on Facebook 8 years ago. #truestory

In November, I participated in #NaNoWriMo. For those short on time to google that bizarro hashtag, it stands for National Novel Writing Month. It’s when us writers buckle down and bust out 50,000+ words in one month. That’s roughly 1,700 words a day. (Or 4-5 pages a day for those stuck in permanent term-paper PTSD.) It’s a lot, but that’s the point. When you’re a writer, you can often find yourself putting your own creative work to the bottom of the To Do List because, there is always more to do, more to write, more to research.

But, sit down for one month and focus on getting one project finished? That seems more doable.

Cue to me getting a backlog of blog posts written for this site. I had 10+ drafts started and 40+ ideas on my Blog Posts Google doc. While this month is traditionally used for novels, I’m part of an awesome co-writing group that suggested we use the time to focus on our own creative writing and businesses. At the time while writing this blog post, I currently have over 10,000 words written. YEE-HAW.

This meant I needed to cut out the distractions in my life to be able to spend an hour or two every single day to sit down (or stand pantsless) and write, while still staying on top of my other work priorities.

  • I pushed the tequila in the back of the cabinet.
  • I painted and redecorated my office to make it a more comfortable place to sit for hours at a time. (Something I should have done when I moved in, but it got shoved to a lesser priority behind bleaching the bathroom walls and floors until they sparkled. Swear, I’m not a serial killer.)
  • I adjusted my shared schedule to block off writing hours so clients could only book meetings in the afternoons.
  • I bought 5 candles from Bath & Body Works.

Then,

I took a break from social media for the month of November.

Now, this isn’t the first time I’ve stepped away from social media. A few years ago, I left Facebook and deactiveated my profile for nearly 6 months to get away from the constant comparison machine. I did this way before it was the cool thing it is to do now. #trendsetter

But this time, I wanted to prepare myself properly to step away from the social media monsters while still maintaining my access to them for my clients. Talk about having a constant temptress to seduce me back into the beast. But this wasn’t as hard as I thought, as you’ll see below.

In the last week of October, I set up a couple weeks of social media posts for Not Your Average Gal and scheduled them out, promising to only check in on them to reply to comments and interact as needed. I let followers know I was peacing out for the month so they were aware I wouldn’t see Jimmy’s 5th birthday party pics or see the invite to another event, at least not right away.

As November rolled around, the first thing I felt was that a weight had been lifted.

I felt relief.

Pure and utter relief.

I knew I spent an unproductive amount of time scrolling, clicking and posting. I knew when I went to check on my notifications that I fell down the rabbit hole of scrolling “just to see” what else was going on. That often turned into laughing at memes, rolling my eyes at cliché quotes and feeling pangs of jealous at those beach vacation pictures. Now? I didn’t have to see any of it.

As the days and weeks went on, I noticed more connection.

I felt connected.

Connected in a different way.

Connected in the moment.

My mind was free from thinking about posting statuses or photos. Which is something you don’t realize you think about a lot, until the avenue in which you’re expressing those things, is closed.

As a writer, throughout my day, lots of entertaining thoughts come to my head about something I’ve seen or experienced. Typically the first avenue I take, if it’s hilarious (and c’mon, it usually is) is to post it as a status on Facebook or caption on Instagram.

I still had those thoughts run though my head, but I now had the headspace to use those creative juices for something more focused. More focused in the moment. I realized how fleeting those thoughts were as they came and went. Even if I had posted them, it would be for what? A few more likes and followers? Sure! But, for November, it wasn’t worth it.

And as I’ve discovered, it isn’t as worth in the long haul either.

I felt relaxed.

Relaxed enough to actually finish a book, two in fact! Instead of scrolling at bedtime, I read one of those things that has a creaky spine, smooth pages and, as I found, sits perfectly against your sleeping husband, freeing your hands for chips and guac. What you don’t eat chips and guac in bed? HOW PRIMITIVE.

Not looking through the comparison machine allowed me to enter some fun fictional worlds of novels that I’ve been missing out on for…well the less fun, but also fictional world of Facebook.

I felt enjoyment from detouring from the rat race.

I did a lot of cool things in November! I was a model in a photoshoot. I danced and sang on stage in a number for my late theatre director. I set up my first Black Friday sale for my business. I redesigned my office. I went to a Celine Dion concert. I drove through the first blizzard of winter like I grew up here or something.

ALL of this, I would have posted. All of it. I think about how much time that would have taken away from me and it legit makes me sick.

Why do we feel that pull to post it? Because we want to share the cool things we’re doing of course! That’s a super natural thing. But at what point does the sharing turn from show-and-tell into show-and-like. If no one sees any of these cool things (or hits like) did they ever happen?

It’s a fine balance, but one I’m willing to walk a little bit tighter.

I felt out of the loop.

From mundane meeting event invites to the more life altering news of a friend’s parent passing away, I missed some key information. Since I was still logging into Facebook and Instagram for work, I did see some notifications, but to prevent the slow seduction of checking my newsfeed I used an extension to get rid of my feed. (You can find my tips about this below.)

So I missed some things, but honestly? Not the important stuff. I helped to take care of my friend post-op and talked with her for hours. All that stuff that she posted on Facebook, I’m assuming she filled me in on during our chats. I went to grab a coffee with a friend and she told me about her father-in-law passing away. Maybe she had discussed it on social media channels, but she was telling me face to face, which gave me an opportunity to not only tell her how sorry I was, but show her.

This month gave me the opportunity to reevaluate how I spend my time and what is worth my time. I truly believe social media, when used well, is great for connection. It certainly helped me survive the often lonely journey of med school to residency.

I don’t see myself deactivating or deleting my profiles any time soon. But I do see some serious benefits to continuing to use the techniques and tools I used to keep the social media beasts at bay.

The Tools I Used:

Have you ever taken a break? Would you?

It’s Okay to be Scared. A Look at 2020 and Beyond.

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Have you seen it? The abundance of posts chanting: O-M-G It's the Last Days of the Decade. The ones that humblebrag neatly discuss the intricacies of achievements over the course of the last decade.

This won't be one of them.

Truth be told, I didn't even put it together that 2019 was the last year of the decade. Mostly, because after the millennium, time ceased to exist or plunged into a twilight-zone-like vortex and basically, 30 years ago is still 1970, right?

I've done the yearly wrap-up posts that aren't just the sugar-coated versions of life and ones that tip my hat at the things I've accomplished. Frankly, I'm quite proud of everything I've achieved in 2019. I got through one of the hardest years of the hubster's ER residency (while still allowing each other to come to bed) and even with the ebbs and flows of a new copywriting business, still posted more sales at the end of the year than the year before. It would be worth a post to celebrate. 

But, with the dawn of a new decade upon us, it may be nice to gently nudge and dive into what many of us may be feeling:
Anxious. Apprehensive. Apathetic. 

A lot has changed in 10 years!

A Decade of Learning

Being scared doesn't mean it's not worth it.

A new decade brings on some excitement about the endless possibilities out there. But, with that, comes its unrelenting, ugly twin: fear. It starts with the seeds of self-doubt and “what ifs,” then morphs into, “I'll do it someday,” and soon, and you find yourself in 2029, wondering where the decade went. Ack. We've all been there. Don't let those fearless Instagrammers fool you. 

Some of the best decisions I've ever made started with a knot in my stomach. The kind that you get when you're at the tip-top of a rollercoaster, just about to barrel down to earth in a rush to the senses. From hopping on a flight to Hong Kong alone, to leaving the comfy cushion of the corporate world, I'm so, so glad I felt the fear and did it anyway. Or at least I remind myself of this while burning the midnight oil, pantsless, figuring out my marketing strategy to get more clients in 2020.

Being scared is okay. It means you're alive!  Feel it. Revel in it. Take it out for a dinner date. Just don't let it make its way into your home, sleeping comfortably in the back of your mind. Let it remind you that some decisions, however small, can be scary because they’re uncertain. That doesn't mean they’re unachievable.

It's okay to be scared. But you have to show up, open up, love fully, fall down, make mistakes, learn, grow and do it all again.

Grow from experience, not bitterness.

One of the ugliest personality traits is cynicism. The kind that scoffs at any goodness in this world. The type that sneers when something goes astray that it was bound to anyway because, of course! Anyone been there? Certainly not me. <looks around to see if anyone believes her>

Growth occurs from planting your roots in the notion that you'll be okay. It may not be what you envisioned. You may not be where you want to be in this current situation. But you'll be okay. I had to trust that notion when I made the 1400-mile move back to Michigan. I would be okay. I am okay. You'll adjust your sails and in doing so, you may find yourself right where you worked towards being someday. 

Growth isn't bitterly blaming your ex for every wrong in your life, while simultaneously proclaiming you've learned so much from that jerk and are hashtag blessed. 

Boundaries are your new BFF.

One of the hardest decisions we can make is figuratively drawing a line in the sand that the way things have been going, can no longer happen on our watch anymore. Not if we want healthy, respectful, nurturing relationships in our lives. Often that looks a lot like setting boundaries with family and friends. 

It can feel so icky at first because we're told otherwise. It's a right of passage really, a family subtlety that seeps into our mindset shouting: no matter what I do, what I say or how I treat you, you have to put up with me because, family! (Many fun people with PhDs will call this abuse.)

The backlash can be big or passive aggressively comedic. I've personally experienced over-the-top, manipulative guilt trips that many Psychology 101 professors would enjoy—and are free to use! Hold true to who you are, what values you find important and know that the boundaries you've set will only be tough for the people who benefited from you not having some in the first place.

Kindness and patience…are qualities not to be trifled with.

Some of the kindest people in the universe are also badasses. Oprah. Ellen. The librarian who fixed my $.50 overdue fee by simply clicking a button. They are all kind souls, but ones I wouldn't mess with when it comes to disrespectfully taking advantage of a situation.

Often when we think of a love that is patient and kind, we imagine a calm world filled with thoughtfulness and ease in decisions. What is hard to wrap our heads around is we can be both patient and kind, while also not allowing ourselves to be unseen or disrespected. 

I once told my sister, I now look for new friends based on how I think they'd react in a public situation where someone was being bullied or humiliated or disrespected. Would my friends stand up and take the person under her wing? Would she yell that you can’t speak to someone like that? Would she stand idly by too nervous to ruffle feathers? Which option would be the kindest to the person being attacked? 

I want to surround myself with kind, patient, feather-rufflers. 

Your voice matters. You matter. You are enough.

A shoutout to all the men and women who aren't feeling okay, but still get up every day and refuse to quit. You are the real show stoppers. We all yearn for connection. We all want to know we belong and matter. That can be incredibly hard on the tough days or if you're surrounded by a not-quite-right-for-you squad.

If there's anything I've taken away from the last 10 years, it's this: I am enough.

If I'm totally alone. I'm enough.

If I'm laughed at. I'm enough.

If I'm sporting my *NSYNC t-shirt, dancing in my underwear in the kitchen. I'm enough.

You matter. Your little beating heart provides something in this world that others can't possibly master: you.

How awesome. You, that is. 

As this decade winds down and a new one begins and we starts to access what they heck just happened, take heed in knowing others feel the same way. Taking note of the things you would change isn't about living with regret. It's about being an accountable adult and knowing you want to do better, be better. How beautiful is that?! 

Side note: I despise when people say they live with no regrets. Frankly, it seems like quite a simplistic, caveman-eque way to live, never having the balls to look back and think, yeah, I could have done that more eloquently. That, that right there, takes some self-reflection. Acknowledging a regret and wanting better. The YOLO, no regerts, lifestyle is nice if you live in a vacuum.

Just think of how much you've experienced—for better or worse—and be proud of where you are, in this moment. <insert internet high-five here> You don't need to measure your failures and successes by noting how far you've come; you're HERE. Right now. 

That's enough. 

You are enough.

Here's to a scary and exhilarating 2020 and another decade of you. 

You and Your Holiday Strategy Slacking

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London is my absolute favorite during the holidays.

I’ve got you covered if you’re slacking in the holiday cheer department. In fact, I’m sort of an expert at that.

When working at an ad agency, the holidays were my least favorite time of year. Now before you put on your judgey-pants and start calling me Ebenzer Peterson, there are a few good reasons for this:

  1. The holidays typically start in July or August. As in, we start developing campaigns, strategies and determine the products or offers we’re going to be pushing for that joyous season. In August. Then this merry and bright bullshit continues for 5 months. By the time the holidays actually come, I’m tossing presents to people around the tree telling them to open the gifts quickly so I can get back to my tequila. (Okay, now you can call me Ebenzer Peterson.)
  2. Holiday campaigns can often be a bit generic. The campaigns I’ve worked on in the past needed to appeal to broad audiences. That meant, as a copywriter, I had to keep the messaging pretty ho-hum to get approved from brand managers who had directives from their big wigs. It often meant pulling from a cheesy arsenal of words and phrases like: the reason for the season, peace & joy, season’s greetings, good tidings and happy new year. Do any of those inspire you? Are any of those memorable? Of course-freakin’-not.

Now, give me ample creative leverage to make pop-culture references and/or poke fun at uncomfortable family gatherings during the holidays and I’ll give you a relatable, memorable message for your campaign.

But, I digress…

For many small businesses, the holidays are the best time of year for revenue. People are feeling all cheery and bright and generous and shit. I’m really killing it with this holiday magic, huh? But, jokes aside, having a holiday strategy, even one that may seem lame or basic, can really help to create lines that help your bottom line. See what I did there?

While we may be pushing it for time left before the holidays hit us with a glitter storm of peace and love, as small businesses we always seem to have limited time, so this ain’t nothing new! Yes, you’re behind if you haven’t started. But there’s still time to do something, even if it’s not an over-the-top idea that was nailed down and created 6 months ago. A published good enough idea is better than one sitting in your drafts folder.

So, let’s put on our big-kid holiday britches and get to it with some basic tasks to kill it with your holiday strategy.

Determine your offers

Black Friday. Cyber Monday. Tequila Tuesday. What do you plan to offer your customers to make them feel like they are getting a deal, something exclusives for being a shopper? This does not mean slashing your prices, necessarily! This could look like 2-for-1 deals, an extra month free for a subscription, a holiday gift guide or even some free samples.

Right now, I’m developing my Black Friday savings for my biznass. Yup, even copywriters get in on this holiday schtuff. For me and my business, it makes sense to offer discounts on services, as my product—writing copy that makes you cry or laugh or snort-laugh (my favorite)—is a service.

Take a second to think about what works best for you and your biz.

Determine your budget

You don’t need to spend a lot. FULL STOP.

In fact, simply promoting on social or your blog or a sweet in-store sign you threw together in Canva, can easily serve as your minimal holiday budget. If you do want to spend a pretty-penny, make sure you’re getting a ROI that makes sense. For me, that looks a lot like, “If I offer X discount, on a service, how much time can I spend on completing this project AND advertise for it to still make it profitable.” Keep in mind, gaining a new client or customer after the holidays, by offering discounted products during the holidays can also improve your ROI.

Now is the time to impress! Don your favorite pearls, put on those fancy pants and use your favorite matte lipstick that doesn’t betray you by making itself comfortable, you know, all over your front two teeth.

Determine you’re different

What makes you, your brand, your products, your company or your services different than the other bazillion brands gunning for holiday customers?

Walmart is known for their bottom dollar prices. Is it often chintzy, single use plastic crap? Yes. But, people go there because they know they can get a deal. That’s their differentiating factor: discounts.

Are your customers getting more than a cheap trinket? Are they getting a heart-felt thank you card sent after purchase? How about a follow-up a week later with a special discount to use in 2020? What will make them feel like you’re different than the rest?

For me, my clients know that they’ll be getting copy packed with a personal punch to the marketing keister. And maybe I’m a little swear-y. People remember that shit.

Determine your messaging

Create a brand-specific holiday hashtag. Update your company tagline to give it some fun, holiday slogan flare. Figure out how you would want your ideal customer to describe your company. Would they use the words: fun and innovative or classic and buttoned-up?

From there, you can figure out your holiday messaging. It could look like something quintessentially festive or something more memorable that may even make Prancer blush.

“Our delightful chocolate truffles are the perfect jingle balls to deck your halls.”

This is where hiring an expert copywriter comes in handy. <side eye>

Hire a Holiday Helper

(it’s me!)

Work with me

Determine your deadline

Pro Tip: This should be soon!

I’m wrapping up finalizing my Black Friday offer by the end of this weekend. That gives me 3 weeks to work on my sales page and the email I’ll be sending to customers. Keep in mind, my clientele and services are particular. Particularly awesome.

If you have a store-front or sell items online, hopefully you’ve got a good idea of when you’d like to have everything set.

Then, stick to it!

The best part of having a basic strategy—besides the fist-pumping feeling of holiday accomplishments—is you actually get to enjoy the holidays! This will set you on a sort of auto-pilot to get you through the next few weeks allowing ample time to chug egg nog like a drunken reindeer who has absolutely HAD IT with Santa’s antics about wanting to hit every freakin’ house in the whole-wide-world before dawn.

Something about spreading holiday cheer to the kids, he says.

Want to be added to my email list to get the discount goodies? (I don’t spam. I don’t know how one spams. Does it actually involve SPAM? Because I heard if you throw a little salt and pepper on it, toss it on a pan with olive oil, it’s quite good.)

For Those Theatre Kids

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What? You’re not dramatic when seeing Mt. Fuji for the first time?

In a former life, I was a theatre kid. Awkward. Creative. Smart. Self-conscious. Belter-of-songs, alone in my room. You know, a theatre kid.

I used to put on shows in my backyard with the neighborhood kids. Writing, directing, acting and craving the applause from all of our parents who gave up 30 minutes of their afternoon to laugh at our Oscar-worthy shenanigans.

From my first show as Glenda the Good Witch in Wizard of Oz in third grade to joining a local theatre group during the summers in middle school, I was immersed in the process it takes to perform.

Perhaps it was the mark of being the middle child. My older sister was incredibly smart and excelled in academics. My younger brother was the family clown, causing a ruckus in whichever room he entered. Theatre was mine. It was something I did alone, away from the things my siblings had mastered.

By the time I got to high school, I felt adequately prepared. I had spent a majority of my young years, at that point, in the performing arts. Then I met my high school theatre director, Mr. Bodick. He had a few things to say and teach me about that…

Mr. Bodick passed away unexpectedly this summer.

A world I thought I had grown out of, a world that filled my heart with such joy and confidence, a world dotted with camaraderie and creativity, came flashing back in waves.

At a local gathering celebrating his life, an outpouring of sadness and beloved memories, made for a remarkably touching tribute to the legacy Mr. Bodick left his students. I was quickly reminded of how wacky and wonderful the theatre community is. I stood next to friends from long ago, who I giggled with backstage and those who I shared secrets crushes with during cast and crew afterparties.

For me, theatre was a much-needed outlet. It allowed me an opportunity to push through fear, focus on characters and memorization, practice my public speaking and provided me a sincere sense of accomplishment after every final curtain.

But more importantly, it gave me and so many others a place to belong.

Belonging. Something so needed in this exclusionary world. Whether you were a geek, jock, crippled with self-doubt and dramatic (who me?) or slept with your International Thespian certificate underneath your pillow—we all belonged on stage.

And, crazy enough, we got along.

Because we had to. We had to coordinate scenes, choreograph dances and sit through read-throughs, shoulder to shoulder with peers often outside our friend circle. Those opportunities taught us theatre kids much more than making sure to remember to point to the orchestra during final bows.

Mr. Bodick was a master of organizing the chaos and making sure everyone had a place on stage; whether that meant running around backstage being part of the tech crew or belting out tunes as the main character. Everyone belonged. Everyone.

Last night, we celebrated his life in a fitting way: by putting on a show filled with his favorite songs from musicals he directed in over 30+ years of teaching and directing. It was special, with very few dry eyes in the house. (It also didn’t hurt that a fellow alumni and two-time, Tony award winning actress, Sutton Foster joined the stage.)

Yours truly also performed a number from Oklahoma with current and past theatre ensemble casts. My heart breaks for the kids at school who won’t have him for a teacher during their tenure. Being back on my old stomping grounds reassured me, though, they would be okay. Theatre kids are resilient like that. They showcased the same camaraderie that made my theatre years so special.

The normal routine of the pre-show jitters, happened of course. Heart pumping beforehand. Practicing the moves backstage. Taking a quick nervous pee in the dressing room right before. I can’t tell you how surreal it was being back on stage in my old high school.

Everything looked the same. Smelled the same. Being on stage felt the same.

I ran into teachers, old friends (including my pals, Dan Clay, AKA: Carrie Dragshaw and Lauren Molina) and friends’ parents, some of which had silly stories from my youth. Some even reminded the hubster how lucky he was. (Their checks are in the mail.) Dare I say, I felt proud.

Mr. Bodick would have been proud. In fact, I’m lucky enough to have his words right here on my blog, saying as much, from a post I wrote years ago about how important teachers are.

For a man who treated his students like professionals from the get-go, hearing he’s proud of you is the cherry on top of a life forever touched by his dedication to his craft. It meant means the world.

It always will.

Thanks for so many fond memories, Mr. Bodick. You’ve made a lasting impact on so many theatre kids—turned adults—who won’t forget.

When I Grow Up

By

Manzanita, Oregon

It’s a phrase we most often associate with kindergarten projects or awkward conversations with our high school guidance counselors.

“When I grow up, I want to…”

Even a gal in her thirties finds that answer difficult. Much of my formative adult, career-driven goals have been a bit dictated by the overarching medicine journey of the hubster. That’s not meant to be expressed with remorse or disdain; it’s merely a fact of life when you fall in love with a fella that wants to help people. The medicine journey is long and it’s full of cruel formalities that leave little room for partner flexibility.

I hear from so many partners and spouses that their careers, dreams or education have been placed on hold while on the medicine journey with the doctor in their life. Stories that will tear your heart out. Stories that will make you realize setting up a career that is flexible and putting off the wants/needs in life, isn’t just a by-product of being married to a physician—it’s survival.

When I did put my copywriting career first, something we both agreed would be a good decision in the long-run for both of our goals, that looked a lot like living 1400 miles apart for 2 long years. It’s not for the faint of heart, kiddos!

But, now we find ourselves a little over 8 months away from the finish line. 8 months away from what the hubster has been working towards for over a decade.

For me, it’s exciting. For him, it’s a bit unnerving, I gather.

The, “Now what?” question is looming overhead; an overwhelming grey cloud of many paths, each with its own set of uncertain answers.

We’ve watched our friends and family hit substantial milestones over the past decade that we’ve essentially had on hold. Choosing a place or city to live. Choosing a house to pay off for 30 years. Choosing whether to have kids (or not). Choosing to continue to pay off my student loans while his loom in the background like another mortgage. Choosing an iced coffee or hot coffee once it turns fall. What? I really want to know. That one is a toughie.

Over the years, as we moved from different states for medical school, into residency and those milestones have been in a holding pattern, I found myself using that phrase a lot.

“When we grow up…”

“When I grow up…”

It’s a funny thing to say in your thirties and it’s typically in reference to materialistic things, like declaring for the umpteenth time that you love Japanese toilets and when you grow up that’s all you want in your house.

What? They’re glorious.

But there’s an iota of truth to it. The things we’ve only thought about—backyards, a dog, a car that doesn’t sound like an airplane taking off when you start it—are now getting closer to reality.

Holy exciting. Holy overwhelming, too.

That “someday” attitude is all we’ve ever known. Looking back, it may not have been such a great mentality, but for better or worse, it got us through.

We recently went on a nearly 3-week road trip out west to see if any cities from Oregon down to California tickled our fancy. While I could do without the winding roads that did lead to spectacular views, we found out a lot about what we did like and what we didn’t like. (Maybe also that the idea of living in California was a bit more romantic than actually living there.)

We talked a lot about what our preferences are as individuals and also, as a small family. In my opinion, we’re pretty darn lucky that we even have the opportunity to lay it all out and see what areas may meet that flexible criteria. How many people actually get to do that?

So many of us are bound by ties both with family and friends, as well as careers, that those often dictate the places we choose to live. If moving 1,400 miles to Florida 7 years ago (and then back to Michigan last year) taught me anything—and boy did it—it was those forever friendships, some who have known you since your pimply days wearing Spice Girls t-shirts, will bridge the distance. The distance may certainly change some dynamics, but it doesn’t change the heart that provides life to a friendship.

We found out some things about ourselves that may have changed over the years on this trip too. For instance, I never thought I’d need to live near a Costco, but well…here we are. Costco aside, being able to be outdoors for a majority of the year, is big for me. More than I ever thought, in fact. The hubster, who is an avid golfer and an amazing one at that might I add, needs to be able to golf more than he can now in Michigan’s temperamental winters. Our wants for a better commute, diversity, being near academia and an open-minded community moved their ways to the top. Plus, again, a Costco.

Now we get to choose that, if an ER job opening presents itself.

Holy exciting. Holy overwhelming, too.

While on this road trip, as we drove around neighborhoods, downtowns and parks, as we went on long walks and fun hikes, as we sat silently on hours-long car rides, as we golfed in picturesque settings, as we sat in restaurants pestering waiters with questions, as we bellied up to local dive bars and talked to bartenders, we slowly unraveled what we wanted when we grew up.

Something that seemed out of reach for so long.

Something that was placed on hold while we got our ducks in a row.

Something that took a backseat to traveling and career choices and moving.

Something that is here, at our doorstep, now.

Holy exciting. Holy overwhelming, too.

Buckle up! Grown ups need to wear seatbelts too, you know.

New Design. Who Dis?

By

Chilling in Yokohama, Japan.
(I took this shot 14 times before getting it right.)

About a month ago I quietly redesigned this website, took a shot of tequila and hit publish.

It was actually a lot more time intensive than that, but hey, tequila! I knew once I left corporate America and started running my own business under the Not Your Average Gal that you’ve come to know and love, a website refresh would be necessary.

The bread and butter needed to be at the forefront, so you may notice, aside from the brand spankin’ new design, a few things have changed ’round here.

Take a look

Don’t worry—your favorite blog is still right here and easily found with that fancy blog button on the navigation. Hey! Don’t say I never gave you directions. I will still be writing on it and you will still have an opportunity to laugh as I stumble through life entertaining the masses.

But, you’ll also see that Not Your Average Gal is more than my musings, as it always has been, but maybe wasn’t front and center. My services are now listed and you can see some kickass projects I’ve contributed witty words to. (And yes, you can finish a sentence with a preposition.)

I’m still tinkering with a few things. I’d like some graphics and layouts to be a bit different. It’s not perfect, but guess what? I hit publish anyway! Perfection is a bitch and I’m exhausted with fearing it may not look good enough before I reveal it. It is good enough.

Just like that stale donut I ate from the apple orchard. It was good enough. Not perfect, but good enough.

Did I just compare my website to a 5-day-old donut? I digress…

I’m happy with the makeover and pumped you’re here to see it. In the meantime, I’m building my email list. You’ll get exciting announcements and fun gifts, but never flaming bags of poop on your front porch.

Join the party.

I don’t spam. That takes a caliber of knowledge I don’t have.

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So, welcome to the new ‘hood!