Not Your Average Gal

Copywriter. Content Creator. Constant Sassypants.

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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!

Let Me (Re) Introduce Myself

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Hey there! I’m Caroline. The chickadee that runs this here part of the interwebs. In speaking with my people—that’s YOU—it’s come to my attention that a small (re)introduction is needed. Starting my own copywriting business, then moving 1400 miles, while also desperately trying to find the perfect mascara, made me realize readers really liked hanging around here.

Truth be told, I never forgot about it.

It lurked and nagged in the back of my mind the way your laundry does when you think you can begin to just wear your underwear inside-out. Did I just compare you to dirty underwear? Yes.

Hang with me.

A mentor of mine died last week. Death can put so many things in perspective, that unadulterated slap in the face that taking the comfortable path isn’t what life is about. The kind that reminds you the people you surround yourself with in life who truly love you, love all the bits and bobs about you. Imperfections and all.

A teacher at the funeral, whom I haven’t seen in 20+ years, told me she reads my musings and loves taking a glimpse at my take on life. Side note: How cool is that?! This website feels like a little part of me that I open myself up to and very often, as life gets busy or sad or confusing, it suffers. I thought it was time to get back to the regularly scheduled program.

So, to all of you who have seen me IRL (In Real Life, for those who have one) in the last few months or have written to me or commented about how much you enjoy this little fun bit of the internet, how much you identify with being not-so-average, how much you appreciate keeping it real—thank you.

For those of you who don’t know me or aren’t familiar with the Not Your Average Gal community—welcome! Let me (re)introduce myself. *cue the music*

Not Your Average Gal Introduction Niagara-on-the-Lake, ONT

Who

My name is Caroline Peterson. I dropped out of dance class in second grade because, being the tallest and most rhythmically-challenged, I was perpetually shoved to the back. Plus, during practice they placed us in one of two groups: those with dance experience and those without. I always ended up in the latter, with a girl who had a broken leg.

From there, I grew up, traveled the world, meandered around marketing jobs, married a med student who is now an ER resident and started my own copywriting business.

What

In simple terms, this is a corner of the internet that proudly shouts the benefits of not being average. We take different paths in life. We speak opinions that may not be popular. We fiercely defend and support women. We embrace differences and support self-love, however it may look. We like to watch people squirm at Thanksgiving dinners.

This lifestyle brand immersed in the world of traveling and living an unconventional life is also how I do business. I work with brands that want some KA-POW! put back into their messaging. Currently, I’m working on redesigning this site so copywriting is at the forefront. (Don’t worry, this part is not going anywhere, just getting a fancy make-over.) What is copywriting? It’s the writing portion of marketing and advertising. Those hysterical brand campaigns you laugh at? A copywriter wrote that script, social media post, email, billboard or tacky political slogan. Consider us word wizards. *adjusts pointy, star-covered hat*

Where

HERE, silly. Well, technically here, too:

I currently live in a sweet little area north of Detroit, by way of Fort Lauderdale for the past six years. I’m originally a Michigander, you know the ones who point to their hand to show you where they live? We moved to Fort Lauderdale so the hubster could start medical school and while it may have taken me a solid year to adjust to geckos finding their way into the hood of my car, only to reappear by flying up the windshield when I hit a certain mile per hour on the freeway, I learned to love it. We spent 2 years apart while the hubster started his residency back up in Michigan. Now I’m up here too, sniffing my bikinis that smell like coconut sunscreen and petting my sand-filled sandals. Too weird? Too bad.

Now that the hubster is in his last year of residency, we’re not sure where the next stop is. We’re so freaking close to the finish line after well over a decade on the medicine journey, that I’m not sure what to do with my hands!

When

On the business front, I be closin’ deals every day. Did that sound as lame as I intended it? Good.

We traveled to Japan and the PNW this year and typically, I write about such adventures. That got backlogged playing that untimely bitch-of-a-game called perfection. Making time to edit photos perfectly. Waiting for the perfect time to sit down and write. Hoping the perfect words capture my travels. You know what perfection is? It’s a fun sucker. I’ve even written about it before here!

But in full honesty, even with perfection’s grip fully clenched around me, this has been a truly tough season for me. Learning, failing, celebrating and succeeding are a few of the feelings and lessons experienced in my first year of business. The hubster worked all night shifts (and then some) in his third year of residency, which thankfully ended in June, and it was Rough. Yes, with a capital R.

Want to know how rough? There are literally support groups for spouses and significant others of doctors. And I’m in one!

Suffice to say, as I’m coming up for air, I’ve got a plan of attack to keep everyone entertained ’round these parts. You’re welcome, world.

Why

Because we’re all a heck of a lot more alike than we want to admit. Hand-to-heart, traveling reiterates this every single time I step up to customs and hear the pound of another stamp in my passport. We all have such similar hopes and dreams and dammit, it doesn’t take a plane ticket to see that if someone is writing about it.

It’s also refreshing to find relatable content in an often Instagram-filled world that doesn’t make you want to scream, “THERE IS NO WAY SHE LOOKS LIKE THAT IN REAL LIFE.” I wrote about mental health years and years before it became a buzzword and found that sharing our struggles can make others feel a little less alone (and crazy). We’re all in this together.

Because as a copywriter, I know I can start a sentence with, ‘because.’ Compelling content can take many forms: novels, self-help books, protest signs, breakup letters. Words are powerful. When they are used for good—to bring a sensitive subject to light with compassion and care or to reinvigorate a work-horse brand that helps thousands of people by adding a small ingredient called personality—it’s electrifying. It’s that A-HA moment, the one where you’ll find me buried in my laptop, furiously typing away trying to get the words out.

I’m truly honored you’re here for those moments.

1400 Miles of Adventures: How to Embrace Change

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The only constant in life is change.

I’m still not entirely sure what “settling down” feels like. I was shuffled around from place to place as a child and as an adult, the longest I ever lived in one place was 6 years. I almost beat that record while living in South Florida. That sense of heritage, familial ties and putting down roots that most people seem to have, quite simply, doesn’t exist for me.

That isn’t said to induce a flurry of, “Oh you poor thing, you heathen child.” That lack of knowing what it feels like, means that things like traveling to Hong Kong on my own, on a whim, wasn’t that big of a deal for me. Even if I was pooping my pretty pants beforehand.

Perhaps that’s why this latest life change happened swiftly and without blinking an eye, but has come with it’s own battery of bittersweetness.

Bring on (more) Change

Cross out that phrase “Long Distance” in front our marriage and get those boxes packed—I’m moving (back) to Michigan. Put a fork in it, South Florida.

After I resigned from my job as Senior Copywriter and started my own business, we had plenty of exciting things lined up: 2 weeks in Southeast Asia, setting up my new work schedule wheeling and dealing, 2 weeks in Vegas visiting family, a quick trip to Detroit, the hubster’s quick trip to South Florida and then nothing.

I finally had a break in the schedule, one that reminded me how lonely it was without the distractions of an office job filled with co-workers. I dove into my work and more volunteer groups and still, it was weird coming back to an empty condo. Even though we had been doing this for 2 years!

I don’t know how to describe it other than, we had hit our peak with this long distance marriage thing. Things couldn’t get better than they were. Which is cool, right? But they weren’t that awesome because, hey, we were still 1400 miles apart. With an ER doc hubster working long hours. With a stressed out copywriter trying to make things work in her new business. It was still tough. Tougher 1400 miles apart.

It just felt right. I knew it was time. I didn’t have a job I was tied to here anymore and as dreadfully sad as I am about leaving this place that I have created as my home, it’s time to be back with the hubster. I’m lucky I have the ability to do that with this new freelance writing gig.

How to Welcome Change (Again)

Another 1400 mile move. Another batch of tearful goodbyes. And guess what? We’ll be doing it all over again in 2 years when the hubster finishes his ER residency. (More on that later.)

So how do you welcome this change? How do you think, “Oh cool, more curveballs.” Over the years, I’ve learned to just trust myself. Just know and trust it’s another adventure that you’re fully capable of handling. Really, truly. I’m going on another adventure. Bring it!

I mean, I’m currently packing our entire condo, on my own, with 1.5 hands! Adventure-time!

Oh I didn’t mention that change/curveball/wrecking ball, really? I tripped, fell and fractured two fingers, requiring surgery and months of rehabilitations-currently on week 6! I can’t make a fist, write my name without putting my wonky pinky back in line (KNOW YOUR PLACE, PINKY!) and for the first month, I couldn’t work out at all. I finally got cleared to lift weights again. Boo-yah. That would also explain why things have been quieter around here—I literally couldn’t type!

How to Embrace the Inevitable Downsides

I’ve found that people who tell me Michigan winters aren’t so bad, haven’t actually ever lived, for an extended period of time, outside of Michigan. I say that with complete sincerity, too. They don’t know the gloriousness of year-round sunshine. I get 300+ days of sunshine that I never knew I needed. Most important, I’ve found, is that I can be outside. It doesn’t necessarily have to be sunny, as long as I can get out, I’m golden.

I’m leaving it for the Arctic Tundra of the north soon and it’s grey skies loom deeply in the back of my mind. <cue Winter is Coming> It really, truly is just about the weather. If I could transplant loved ones, friends, the work ethic and Midwestern friendliness to warmer pastures, I would.

So, I’m embracing that the winter will just be bad and I can get through it. It won’t be my favorite time of year. A plus? I can legitimately wear fall boots now! I plan to stay outside going for walks, sitting in a park writing and walking or biking to coffee places for as long as the weather permits. I know myself and I know I will need to force myself out when temps hit below 50, but I will do it for as long as I can…and then bundle up hibernating when the snow and ice hit. And sleet. And black ice. And brown slush. And frozen doors. And numb fingers. And frozen nostril hairs.

Yes, I’ve tried winter sports. I’ve given them a good shot too! Outside of a quick vacation skiing, it’s just not my jam. And hey, Michganders, that’s okay!

We don’t plan on being in Michigan forever. With age, I’ve learned to never say never, but we’ve discussed, at length, where we want to “settle down” (Oh God, is that possible?!) and it isn’t in the Midwest. Consider it the 20+ years for me and 30+ years for the hubster of Michigan winters. It ruined us. We out.

Focusing on Gratitude

Sounds woo-woo, doesn’t it? I’m not one for sitting down and focusing on what I’m grateful for when times are tough. But, as my sunrises at the beach come to a sad end, I feel in my bones this move won’t be awful.

When we moved down to Florida six years ago, I knew no one. I had little help as the hubster trudged off to med school and I was left fending for myself on scary freeways. Seriously, you don’t know real fear until you’re stuck behind a Lincoln Continental going 30 MPH on the freeway, with people zooming past you, annoyed, texting, eating and somehow doing the Marcarena. It took me a solid year and a half to adjust to this new state.

I’m going back to the familiar. I’m going back to a support system full of friendly faces and wonderful friends. I’m finally able to live with the hubster, make dinner together, laugh at our senior kitty’s antics and even pee with the door open! This move will be easy-peasy in comparison.

And that’s what I’ll choose to focus on. What I’m grateful for.

So, wish me luck on this new adventure. There are sure to be many more in the years to come! Thanks for your support through the inevitable chaos of new transitions.

How do you deal with massive changes?

I Quit my Corporate Job

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One week before my birthday, I turned in my resignation as Senior Copywriter, a position I’ve had for nearly five and a half years. Part of me knew I couldn’t let another birthday go by feeling so hindered and part of me knew, for a long time, it was as simple (and as complex) as it being time to move on.

In what seemed like a blink of an eye, I began wrapping up my projects, transitioning over brands and saying goodbye to beloved clients and coworkers. After my last day, I gave myself the weekend to decompress—which looked a lot like bad food and good Netflix documentaries—so I could wind down after nearly 5 and a half years of work at an ad agency.

By Monday morning, I took a deep breath, put my yoga pants on, and…

I began my journey of running my own business freelance writing!

So What Happened?

I gave growing pains at the job the good ol’ college try—pushing through, convincing myself that things would get better. We all do this in our jobs, in some capacity, because no job is perfect. No job is the end-all-be-all, and patting ourselves on the back about the swanky corporate position we hold can only take us so far. After a longer time than I care to admit vocalizing concerns, spending whole sessions talking to my therapist about work, making the same complaints to the hubster and dancing around the subject of how my job was, I had to accept that a position I used to love, a position I had stayed in Florida for, wasn’t the right fit for me anymore. If it wasn’t going to change, I needed to make a change. (Maybe I had changed?)

Many may think I waited too long. Others may think all jobs are meant to be toiled at for 9-10 hours a day regardless of lack of fulfillment and you just need to deal. Some may not experience it as I did. I did what was right for me.

As I’ve stated many times here, I’ve always wanted to be location independent, working remotely with or without pants. The thought of being able to do that, choose clients I want to work with and be able to see the hubster more became more and more enticing as time went on.

When I gave notice to my boss, he was incredibly understanding and gracious. He had been nice enough to allow me to work remotely 2-3 days a month when the hubster started his ER residency in Michigan. But he also knew the toll that takes and was kind enough to tell me how much he values employees wanting to grow and move on. It was reassuring.

I learned so much. I don’t say that facetiously either. (I’m sure I could tell you stories and mean girl antics that would make your hair stand on end though.) In the end, I know I gained a wealth of knowledge about copywriting and client relations. It was a good experience with memories and laughter to last a lifetime. An unexpected nice benefit was developing meaningful friendships. You don’t always get that in a workplace and I’m lucky enough to call some colleagues—friends.

waiheke island

So What’s Next?

The hubster and I worked really hard to save enough money so I could have the time that’s needed to build my freelance business. And by really hard, I mean, strict personal budgets, forgoing airline tickets to see each other and cutting out nice, but not needed, services. I miss you Sirius XM and CycleBar! (I do have a bike at home, you know.)

What took me awhile to understand is that my side-gig, this blog and some minimal freelance work, was really tough to do…on the side. Most people have their passion projects or side-gigs that they do after their day job, and often it’s something different than their day job. I’d leave for my corporate job around 8-8:30 am and get home at 7pm, at the earliest. That’s a lot of hours doing copywriting, to come home and…do more writing. It became clear that when things picked up at work, my blog and picking up anymore freelance clients would suffer.

I changed it up for a very long time, working before I left for work and then when I got home. The results weren’t very eventful. If I really wanted to make this a full-time gig, I needed to buckle down, save some cash and then do it full time.

So here I am. I’m not sure what to do with my hands most days! I’m able to go to doctor appointments in the middle of the day, take a break after writing and head to the pool and go workout whenever the hell I want to.

A work-life balance! Say what?!

The immediate task is to build processes that allow me to streamline: pitching, signing and working with clients. Freelance writing and copywriting isn’t a new trade and I have so many resources at my fingertips to help me through.

Looking for a writer? Work with Me.

Not Your Average Gal finally got her big girl business wings! I will be able to focus on creating content for this site, as well as for my clients. This Not Your Average Gal community is fiercely loyal, and I want to continue to grow and expand, allowing other wonderful folks to join the not so average looney bin family. That change may mean more affiliate links, sponsored content and chances to work with brands. While not having a regular, comfy paycheck does scare me, I’ve gladly accepted that the new income, is multiple streams of income.

Are you ready to join me on this adventures? LET’S GO!

The Last Big Question

No, I’m not moving back to Michigan as of now. I realize this may cause a curfuffle (side note: what an underused word) with some, but I’m not sure I care.

Ooooooh, she’s feisty today!

While I know it may rock the good ol’ Great Lakes boat, the hubster and I don’t want to live in Michigan permanently. He’s nearly halfway through his ER residency there. If anyone is willing to fund 2 sets of moving costs that will occur close together, be my guest. Plus, what satantic cult do you belong to if you think I’m moving to Michigan in February? Additionally, the hubster said I’m not allowed to move because the condo we rent in Fort Lauderdale also gives us a country club membership to the golf course I live on. Priorities. 

I do have connections here that will help me build clientele here initially. Ultimately, I’d love to work with clients all over the world and travel around working remotely.

Could I move in the future? Sure. That’s beauty of freelance.

Great Risk for Great Reward

I am so excited (and utterly terrified) about the opportunities I will seize on this freelance journey. This is the beginning of pushing past my comfort zone, taking a risk and believing in myself. I’ve asked myself this plenty of times: If not now, when? So watch as I suit up, tighten my harness, tap my helmet, take a slow, calculated, deep breath and peer over the edge. It’s time to jump.

Here’s to Not Your Average Gal and new adventures!