Frrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!- we need to talk.

I don’t think I’m feeling this anymore. It’s not you, it’s me! (why do I feel like I’m in a Seinfeld episode all of a sudden.)
This is the thing: Instagram and blogging and content creating has been my job for a long, long time. And if I’m honest, I’m struggling to find the joy in it anymore. It’s not working for me any longer. I’ve had huge highs and big lows, and it’s been quite the ride. This job has granted me opportunities that I never could have imagined in my life. Shows with the Food Network, travel all over the world, meeting other bloggers and forming friendships and a community that I could never dreamed of! This has a been beyond incredible. But the platform has changed so much. The algorithm has shifted drastically over the last couple of years, that I no longer can afford to be a food blogger. I just can’t.
This is the thing: I really do adore creating certain kind of content. But when the algorithm knows you’ve worked super hard on a project and shows it to half a toenail, it gets you nowhere. Partnerships fade, the ambition lessens, the frustration sets in and the joy sours and starts to stink. That’s where I am. Stinking. Or maybe I just need a shower.
This is the thing: (I’m trying to see how many times I can say that before you punch your screen.) I turn 50 next month, and I’m feeling a colossal pivot. As in, I’m ready to get a job! At a place! With people! I’m ready for a chapter with stability, connection, a financial forecast I can count on, and that doesn’t involve checking stupid Instagram to see how many people liked that sponsored post so maybe oh maybe I can get more work because of it. No, I can’t do that anymore.
This is the thing: there’s sadness here, too. I’ve structured a lifestyle and a rhythm that works for me. Early mornings with books, getting the kids out the door, 8am runs twice a week, laundry by 10am, estate sales carved in, yard work duties on Tuesday mornings, shooting a weekly recipe by noon and a Book Tasting episode every Friday. I have it very dialed. Home is poetry and I’m in my own sonnet. Le sigh.
But I need more. I need a change. My site is clunky and bloated and loaded with bots and I have no idea how to fix that, nor the money to have it all cleaned up. I just don’t care enough. And that makes me sad and mad. Instagram has become lifeless and unfulfilling.
WATCH, as soon as I vocalize all this, I’ll find the joy again. Hahahahahaa. Hah ahha. Ha. Ha?

This is the thing: I’d love to look for work and I want you to tell me what that looks like! Do I work at a bookstore? In mortgage lending? At Trader Joe’s? Dead serious about all three. Something face-forward and administrative? What is my next chapter and also KC or Overland Park, will you hire me??? I’m intensely disciplined, fantastic at keeping a flow and outrageously friendly. Let me come work for you!!
I just got excited.
Tell me what my next job is. What does this next wild and precious chapter look like for me? (Mary Oliver sold separately.)
This is the thing: (have you punched your screen yet?) I have a recipe coming next week, and obviously more books to discuss, and I’ll definitely keep linking recipes to IG. And life moments. Of course. It all exists. But I’m just ready to make a big change and I’d love to know what’s out there. What’s out there, world?! Casting my net . . . now.
(Also, if you missed it, I did post an insanely delicious street corn queso that you’ll need in your face all weekend.)
This is the thi- just kidding! Love you all. This is not goodbye. But really, what’s next for me and can I work for you? Just don’t ask me to freeze peanut butter.

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