G
rowing up, I was one of
those kids who always had
her head in the clouds. I
lived in a world where everything
was possible.
I dreamed about being a jet pilot. A
famous actress. An astronaut. Even
an Olympic athlete.
I saw a future as an innkeeper or
a published author. I gave myself
over to the winds of fate and was
so convinced everything I dreamed
would come true, even if I had no
idea how to make it happen. I was
so lost in dream land that I gradu-
ated with high school with stellar
grades and zero prospects. I ap-
plied to a total of zero colleges. Not
even community college.
I had a ton of dreams, but no di-
rection.
Fast forward through a stint in
the Army, an “I do” in front of the
Justice of the Peace, and a trio of
kidlets, and my life’s direction was
handed to me. And I went along.
It was easy to accept a “dream” of
being a wife. A mother.
To accept a path that was about
taking care of others and figuring
out how to make a home.
To forget everything about myself
and do what had to be done.
And I did just that.
I forgot all of the impossible
dreams and settled for the practi-
cal.
In the years that followed I can’t
say that I was miserable or unhap-
py. I was just empty.
I changed diapers, did laundry,
cooked meals. I got a job, worked
when I could, earned a paycheck
and just existed.
And then one day, on the way to
work, it was like an aneurysm of
awareness erupted in my brain.
All of that suppressed want and
need and desire came on like hell-
fire. Suddenly, I was fully aware of
my lack of direction and purpose. I
needed to take back control of my
life and live up to my potential. I
needed to know that I could leave
my mark on the world. I needed to
find my shiny pearl of accomplish-
ment.
It was about that same time that
fate tapped its friend, serendipity,
and I found myself out of a job and
in possession of a credit card with
a ridiculous limit. It was a risk, but
it was my chance, and I reached
for that brass ring and grabbed it.
I launched my first full-fledged
business, The Sensible Gourmet, in
2004. My mission was to find and
sell amazing gourmet foods that
were fun to try and easy to give.
Everything we sold cost $25 or less
and I purchased amazing products
from women- and family-owned
companies all across the country.
I decided on a consultant-based
business model and at its peak,
there were Sensible Gourmet con-
sultants in 23 states.
My house became a warehouse
and I became a one-woman cor-
poration. I designed catalogs, or-
dered product, stocked, packed,
shipped and sold. It didn’t matter
that I wasn’t making a profit. I was
in love with my business.
And I had remembered how to
dream.
In my mind’s eye, I was on my way
to becoming the “most Sensible
woman in America.” If the Sensi-
ble Gourmet was a success, I was
sure The Sensible Home and The
Sensible Baby would follow. The
possibilities were endless, and I
could see myself doing it all…even
if I had no idea how I was going to
get there.
And then, like it often does, the
universe decided there was more
for me to learn.
And a new path to explore.
Fate also tag teams with luck, and
as luck would have it, my husband
was reassigned, and the housing
market tanked. Fifteen months
later, with our savings depleted,
a house that wouldn’t sell, and a
business that was paying for itself,
but not paying me, I felt it neces-
sary to go back to work. We need-
ed a steady paycheck and I had
run out of time to make The Sensi-
ble Gourmet work.
I fought the good fight for almost a
year, worked full time in the cor-
porate world and then came home
and worked for myself, but even-
tually something had to give. The
decision to close my business was
one of the hardest things I have
ever had to do.
At the same time, it came with a
huge sense of relief. And a large
lump of debt.
But, it wasn’t long before I revert-
ed to old ways. Practicality was
the order of the day. A fantastical
future required more than I could
give. I settled for safe and stable.
It took several years before I found
the courage to saddle back up on
the horse of business. I launched
First Page, Last Page, a freelance
editing company in 2013. I had
found something I could give my
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