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I honestly don’t remember learning to cook, to bake or to feel comfortable in a kitchen. I remember spending time next to my mom, my grandma and my aunts following along while they were making dinner, standing around talking about my day at school while dinner was being made, the first batch of cookies I made and how I fell in love adventuring with food and recipes while in college. I vividly remember a conversation I had with my Mom and Grandma when I was younger, telling them that we should have a family restaurant because our family is full of good cooks… I put that idea on the back burner for a long time, until the kettle it was in whistled louder than any other idea I’d had.

I finally took the leap in July to start my business. I posted a picture of my filed Fictitious Business Name paperwork on my Instagram, but other than that, I didn’t make a big deal about it. I was afraid that I would want to back out and not go through with a dream I’d held onto for so long. When I decided to start this blog, it was going to mostly be about the trials and tribulations that occur when you’re starting a business, but somewhere along the line I got distracted and made the choice to start writing about more personal things. This wasn’t a bad thing at all, just not my original intention (don’t worry, I’m totally going to write random posts about things.. especially if Brittany Gibbons continues to come up with writing prompts!). Yesterday I skyped with my friend Caitlin and told her that somewhere along the line, I started evading the idea of posting progress made toward starting my bakery; mostly because it would mean that I have evidence of what I’ve done and I’m accountable for it. It’s quite a scary undertaking and I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to actually do it. We talked about it and I decided to throw caution to the wind and post about my progress.

IT'S HAPPENING

IT’S HAPPENING

In short, there it is. Each piece of that multi-colored pie is something that I still need to do to get this business off the ground. It doesn’t seem like a lot, but each step has a lot that goes into it. The diagram reminds me of a Trivial Pursuit game-piece, and I guess in a way that makes sense. It can be difficult to collect each little wedge to fill the pie, but those who do win, and I like winning. I’m nervous, and I’m scared, but I know I’ll be able to cross off a couple things in the next month or so, and I promise that when something gets crossed off, I’ll post about it.

On top of being nervous and scared, I’m also insanely excited. I have great friends who are more than willing to help me along the way. Kayla Ihrig is designing my logo, Caitlin is most likely going to help out with my website, people are signing up left and right to taste-test and I have support coming out of the woodwork. I think that’s part of the anxiety, I don’t want to risk letting these people down. I know, I know; if I don’t try, it’ll be a bigger let down than failing.

I’ve decided to start Autumn working towards the loudest whistling dream and taking a HUGE step forward in building the life I want because no one else besides me can do that. Here goes nothing.

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OMG We’re back again….

Yes, I really did just name this post after a Backstreet Boys song. Hate all you want.

Thanks to a lucky new friend who’s also a budding writer, I’m back in the writing groove. I’ve decided to start a bit of writing challenge, so you’ll see some clumps of posts go up over the next couple days, and then hopefully just daily after that.

This writing challenge is mostly about the body and body image and I couldn’t be more grateful that it came around now. Here’s the link if you want to join.. Brittany, herself: August Write Your Face Off

First few posts are going up tomorrow.. And they’ll most definitely be out of the order they’re listed in, so enjoy :)

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My name is..

I’m having a real hard time not making a stupid Slim Shady joke somewhere within this prompt. 

Names are funny things, people often forget them, mistake them for something else or butcher them completely. My friend Sheila has started an album of pictures on her Facebook of the different ways Starbucks baristas misspell her name. I love it, and as of right now, “Chilla” is my favorite. 
I rather like my name. It’s different, but not outlandish, but it’s not all that common either. I’ve had my name spelled “Angila,” “Angella” and I’m often called Angelica or Angie. For some reason, being called Angie has always bothered me, despite having two friends named Angela and Angie growing up… What a trio we were. 
The only time anyone has unknowingly messed my name was in 5th grade. My teacher, Mr. Baker, had that honor. Originally from Boston, he still had a thick Bostonian accent. The poor guy. Outside of student teaching, we were his very first class. Ever. A class full of 9 and 10 year olds is overwhelming as it is, but I knew all the kids around me. He had no clue what he was getting into with us. 
I remember that year so clearly. The first couple days of school, Mr. Baker went around and learned our names and took a picture of each of us, partly to help him, I’m sure, but also to show us how much we would grow throughout the year. As he went through the roster, he got through about half the class before he got to me… Obviously, since my last name is Morales. Because of his accent, my name came out as “Angeler.” I remember saying that I was here, but that my name was “AngeLUH, not AngeLER.” He looked at me and apologized for his accent and sheepishly continued through the roster. He purposely called me Angeler the rest of the year, making light of what happened.
Out of all my years in school, that year was probably the best. Mr. Bill Baker taught us about tolerance, world views. how to be kind to one another despite our differences and how detrimental it can be if don’t. He was the teacher we could talk to about anything, the one who talked to us like we were people, and the one who would go out and play basketball, four-square and tag during recess. 

He was, and is, the coolest, even still. 
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