Corporate Culture

When Marty and I first met each other, our dream was to figure out a way to work together. We knew that we really enjoyed each other’s company and that we possessed complimentary skill sets, but at the time, we weren’t sure what we could possibly do in the same workplace (graphic designer and copywriter? Newsletter-writer girl and newsletter-layout guy?). We started making up elaborate fantasies about running retreat centres, workshops, and the like. Marty was just beginning his art career back then, and I was still testing out the waters as a counsellor/volunteer coordinator/occasional newsletter-writing girl in a local non-profit organization. (In other words: we certainly weren’t rich, but we were very happy and imaginative!)

Years passed. Marty and I still dreamed about working together, but (in our hardened old age, cough cough) we were more resigned to leading separate business lives if needed. Marty’s art career was more established by then, and I was now testing out the waters as a finance/data entry/’hold on, what exactly is my job?’ girl at a(nother) local non-profit organization.

Then last summer happened. After our first six months at the harbour (with Marty working full-time and me working on evenings, weekends, and during all of my holidays), it seemed like we magically created a perfect space for me in Marty’s growing art practice– should I choose to fill it. It was clear that the business was expanding and that I enjoyed (nay, loved) being a part of it. The question then became whether I would (or could) leave a regular paycheque behind to pursue our old dreams in real life.

Leaving behind the security of a biweekly paycheque, medical and dental benefits, and all of the post-it notes I could ever possibly want or need was not easy. I knew in my heart that I wanted to give this art thing a go, but I really struggled with leaving my job, knowing that a lot of people thought I was crazy to do so. Yes, a lot of people were supportive, too, but some of the support was more cautious and tentative, like ‘Awwww! You do what feels best for you… even if it’s crafts, I guess’ –not rock-solid, enthusiastic ‘I believe that you will be successful with this, even by objective, third-party standards!’ support. (Don’t get me wrong– the support I received from my blog peeps here was very real and very appreciated. The reactions of other people in my circle were a bit more tepid, though.)

Anyway. As you know, I did leave my job and I did give up my corporate badge– in favour of living our dream! Marty and I worked our asses off this summer. Sure, it looked like we were just hanging out by the water and working on our tans, but it was actually really hard work! We built up inventory, packaged thousands of prints/posters/greeting cards, worked on a brand for Marty’s artwork, and reinforced this brand by giving top notch customer service for 10-14 hours every. single. day. We sold stuff. We made ourselves available to people’s questions and comments, stayed ‘on’ for months on end, made do on little sleep and lots of teriyaki sauce, and most importantly: we had fun!

During the dog days of summer... and still smiling!

By my count, we’ve had a very successful summer, though I’m not sure if we’d measure up to objective, third-party assessments of ‘success’ just yet. Nevertheless: I’m elated to be where I am right now. I know without a doubt that leaving my office job was the right move, and I can’t tell you how happy I am to know that Marty and I will get a break soon, right when my old workplace is transitioning into the 16-week hectic period otherwise known as Accounting Associate H-E-L-L. The distance is great.

I joke that I’m going to hibernate and/or do nothing but kick back and enjoy some pina coladas from October to March. In all honesty, though, I’ll be busy working behind the scenes with Marty’s art business, not to mention (finally!) unpacking some boxes from our move back in April… I think the reality of not having ye olde biweekly paycheque won’t really kick in for me until about January or so, but even still: knowing that I took a chance and put my whole self into something I really believe in is totally worth it. I’m going to make it after all!

Sweet Tooth Check In

If y’all can believe it, Jabba and I are coming up to two months on our fabulous sugar-reduction journey! It’s incredible, really (how time flies; the sugar-reduction part of the journey has just been okay.) I guess I’ve been a half-assed buddy on this project. I’ve been so busy over the past few months that I’ve rarely had the opportunity to check in with Jabba directly and to see how she’s doing. Mostly, I’ve just been sneaking in a blog post or two about my own experiences and trusting that she will read them and comment/give feedback as needed. I’m a great buddy, no?

From my perspective, even though Jabba and I don’t see each other every day (or ever, really), and even though we’re not down each other’s throats all the time to check for any possible sugar residue, having a buddy at all has been great for me. I know that Jabba would be way more forgiving than furious about any of my sugar intake, but even just knowing that she’s my buddy has given me good motivation to skip over any unnecessary sweets. What would Jabba think of this? has been my new motto. (In real life, Jabba might think ‘YUM, SUGAR- EAT IT ALL!,’ but my imaginary sugar-reduction buddy Jabba would give me a ‘is this really necessary?’ look if I pointed excitedly at a strawberry tart. Apparently, this imaginary look is all I need. Real buddy + imaginary buddy reactions = recipe for sugar-reduction success!)

Anyway. I’m doing pretty awesome with my sugar intake, if I do say so myself. With the Harbour season winding down, my consumption of teriyaki sauce has decreased significantly, and I’m still totally off of blatant sweet things (save for the two or three sticks of Panda licorice I’ve eaten over the past month and some. Molasses and fennel can’t be so bad, right?) I’ve had a few pieces of toast with honey and have sweetened the occasional cup of tea with a drizzle of honey, too, but everything else has been pretty much free of added sugar or sweetener. Pretty good, methinks. The cupcakery must be wondering where I’ve jetted off to, after weeks of my unwavering patronage, and yes: my Dark Mint bars from the chocolate factory tour are still in tact! (Unfortunately, the jar of peanut butter in the cupboard has not fared so well. I’ve been eating that by the spoonful. You win some, you lose some.)

I was pretty focused for the first few weeks on following a particular regimen (day on, day off, etc.), but ever so gradually, I’ve settled into a new routine that doesn’t involve being hyper-alert about my sugar intake all the time. I have no idea whether today is technically supposed to be an On Sugar day or an Off Sugar one. Meh. I still catch myself automatically thinking about sweet things in certain situations, but as far as my actual eating actions are concerned, it hasn’t been a big deal or full-length dramatic episode every time I’ve encountered something with sugar in it. I’ve relaxed a lot more into this project.

Being relaxed and even a bit nonchalant about my sugar intake right now is my biggest success, I think. Too often, I discipline or micromanage myself to the point where things aren’t fun anymore, and I end up rebelling. (Yes, I rebel against myself!) It’s difficult for me to establish balance with certain things– sugar-intake especially– and my teens and twenties were a painful series of jumping back and forth between full-on gorging myself with sugar and completely denying myself even a granule of sugar. Not healthy at all. So to get to a position where I can eat honey on my toast and know that it doesn’t spell automatic D-O-O-M for the rest of the sugar-reduction project feels pretty good. What a relief! It’s also relieving to know that I’m not the only person in this situation– either somebody with an addictive sweet tooth or somebody attempting to overcome one. It sounds totally cheesy and cliché to say so, but it really helps to know that I’m not alone!

An Artist’s Wife

Have you ever had one of those moments of absolute clarity, when everything suddenly made sense, seemed perfectly organized and, dare I say it, felt effortless? I had one of those moments tonight. I was given a free pass to see “Van Gogh: Brush With Genius” at the IMAX theatre tonight, and as I sat gazing into the thickest, oiliest, most expressive brushstrokes I have ever seen, I knew without a doubt that I was right where I was meant to be. Not just in the theatre at that particular time, either– though that’s probably part of it, too– but everywhere I am now: living in Victoria, married to Marty, working at the Harbour, trained in Communication Studies: all of it is exactly as it needs to be.

Image borrowed from www.theintellectualdevotional.com

I’m having one of those ‘cup runneth over’ moments in my head right now. Freshly out of the theatre, my thoughts are swirling around à la Starry Night, but I’m not yet at the point where I can clearly articulate how profound my feelings are. (In other words, even though I just had a private a-ha! moment, the resulting blog post will not be so concise or earth-shattering. It’s a pity.) The movie itself was just average, I would say, but nevertheless, I left it feeling like my life had a purpose; a direction; a clear task to accomplish– something that only I can do. I’m uniquely qualified!!

Did you know that, even though Van Gogh’s original paintings now set mind-boggling records for sale prices at auctions, he only ever sold one piece while he was still alive? Did you know he created over 900 paintings in 9 years? Did you know how profoundly lonely he was? Did you know he committed suicide at age 37, by shooting himself in a field and bleeding to death over the course of two agonizing days? I confess that I did not know very much (at all) about Van Gogh before tonight. Just something about an ear. I still don’t know a whole lot about Van Gogh, but I do know a whole lot about another artistic visionary…

People are curious about artists. They want to understand their motivations and inspirations, and they want to catch a glimpse inside their minds– to see how they work. I see it all the time at the Harbour with Marty. You can actually feel people struggling to ask the perfect question: the single question that would unravel all of the secrets of Marty’s talents and lay them all out, plain as day. People want to know! I’ve always told Marty that I was going to write a book about him and his artwork, but I think after seeing that movie tonight, I know that this is what I have to do. Eventually. At some point…

Fruit Flies

We have attempted, in earnest, to include a decent amount of fresh fruits and vegetables in our diet this summer. Unfortunately, due to our crazy schedule and lack of food prep time, our good intentions have often fallen short, leaving a fair bit of ripened fruit around our counter tops for the devil incarnate– fruit flies– to feast and/or lay eggs on. Yuck.

Disgustingly, our kitchen has been a virtual biology lab as of late. If any of you want to know all about the life cycle of the common fruit fly, come on by! We have plenty! (On second thought, please don’t come on by. Chez Martycultural is still way below acceptable ‘company’s coming’ standards and won’t make the grade for at least another month.) Anyway. There are dozens of fruit flies hanging around, and I know for a fact (thanks, Wikipedia!) that it doesn’t take long for each of those flies to lay eggs and then to hatch dozens more fruit flies on top of that. So. Totally. Gross.

Marty and I have resorted to building a fruit fly trap. It’s genius, really– I don’t know why we didn’t consult the all-knowing internet on this topic before. Setting a trap involves a few simple materials: a bottle or jar of sorts, some balsamic vinegar, and a piece of paper. Totally doable. You (meaning ‘we’) pour a small amount of vinegar into the bottom of the bottle (diluting a bit with water if need be), and then you make a funnel out of the piece of paper, leaving a tiny, fruit-fly-sized hole at the bottom. Put the funnel in the mouth of the bottle, making sure it is flush with the opening so they can’t just fly back out around the funnel, and voila! DEATH TRAP FOR FRUIT FLIES!! They can get in but can’t figure the way back out.

(Actually, it’s not so much a death trap as it is a catch-and-release mechanism. Google advice cautions us to change the trap every day– i.e. to release the flies outside, clean the jar, and use new vinegar– lest the trap become an all-out breeding ground for zillions of fruit flies until infinity. That would seriously suck.)

The first day, we caught (and reluctantly released rather than KILLED) over sixteen fruit flies. (Sick, I know.) Tonight, when I changed the trap, I delighted in seeing four fruit flies run right through the funnel in a matter of minutes. They were so excited to get to that vinegar, and then (possibly) so panicked when they realized they had been DUPED!! Other fruit flies cautiously landed on the paper funnel soon afterward, and I egged them on. ‘Do it!!’ I coaxed them. ‘Go for the prize!!’ Meanwhile, the fruit flies who were already caught inside the bottle were probably yelling ‘NO! Don’t do it– it’s a TRAP!’ Or something like that. (Award-winning Fruit Fly vs. Dana L. dialogue, no?)

I hope that all of the fruit flies will have been caught and released over the course of a week, and then I can get back to maintaining a decent, fruit-fly-buffet-free kitchen. Yuck. Insects and bugs of all sorts totally give me the willies, and it’s especially bad when they’re taking over your food. (Not as bad as infesting your bed, but definitely a close second.) I’ll keep you posted.