5 tactics to dating a waiter

The world is saturated with dating advice.

All it takes is a quick Google search and one is inundated with Cosmo articles and blog posts about “When to say the big L word” and “How to know if he’s the one”. Which is all well and good, but it’s all stuff we've read over and over again, and it’s really no big news anymore. What we need is real world advice on how to cope with unusual relationship circumstances.

I wasn't able to find any good, relevant information on dating a waiter. I've seen my fair share of advice on how to pick up a waiter or waitress, how to schmooze them, get their number, etc.; but nothing on actually sustaining a relationship with them.

I've been dating my waiter for a few months now, and while the relationship is still fairly new, I've been able to come up with some nuggets of advice for anyone looking to keep the relationship alive.

Get used to their schedule.

Those in the service industry work offbeat hours. They may work early morning, late at night, graveyard, or a combination. Fridays and Saturdays are typically the busiest nights of the week, and therefore the most profitable, so your waiter is usually going to be working and not available for Date Night. The fact of the matter is, if you have a regular 9-5er, you two are likely not going to have matching schedules. It’s been my biggest complaint and my biggest challenge so far. I sometimes go an entire week without seeing him, and that SUCKS. However, we make it work by really putting forth an effort to make time for each other. I’ll go over to his house after he’s off work at 11, knowing full well I need to be up at 6 to go to work and that I’m going to be dead tired the next day. He lugs his overnight bag on the train for his full hour commute to work on weekends, just so he can come see me after. Conflicting schedules require communication, inconvenience at times, and a little bit of sacrifice on sleep.

Don’t visit them at work.

Oh, it’s tempting. Trust me, I know. You haven’t seen them in a week, why not grab a friend and head down to the restaurant so you can see your sweetie in action? Here’s why: your person is absolutely at their worst when they are working. They are stressed out, in a hurry, distracted, and irritable. The last thing they need is the added pressure of knowing you are seeing them this way. Imagine them sitting and watching while you get lectured by your boss or screamed at by a customer. Even if you don’t sit in their section, they might feel like you expect them to talk to you even though they don’t even have a second to shove some food in their mouths.

Get your own hobbies.

This is a bit of a piggyback on the first rule. A lot of your life as the significant other to a server is lived waiting. Waiting for them to wake up (If they work nights), waiting for them to get off work (most of the time they can’t use their phones during their shifts), just waiting a LOT. Find a hobby or an activity you can do in the meantime to distract you. Especially at first, when the relationship is still new and you don’t live together. People in new relationships tend to get so absorbed into each other that they forget that they are their own individual person. Keep a hold of your identity, and find stuff to do while you are waiting for them. I've caught myself just holing up in my room while he works, not doing anything productive, and just waiting. I've had to pull myself out of it from time to time and call up a friend or go shopping… something… anything. This will help you retain your independence, and in turn will make your relationship stronger because you are not relying on the other person to make you happy.

Don’t take it personally.

Everybody has bad days at work, and waiters are no exception. The only difference is bad days in a restaurant are a special level of hell. Your person will most likely come home in a piss poor mood every single night, and it has nothing to do with you. Don’t get offended or upset about it. Instead, let them smoke, hand them a beer, and feed them. The person you fell in love with will return eventually. Most waiters deal with these bad days in two ways: they either come home and whine and bitch and scream about it, in which case you just follow the above advice. Or they refuse to talk about it and suffer in silence until said beer, cigarette, and food have been utilized. In that case, don’t force them to talk about their day and relive it all over again, and don’t get offended that they don’t want to share. Again, it’s not about you. They just don’t want to ever think about what happened ever again. These bad moods are fleeting, and they’ll be grateful to you for being so understanding. Bonus points for you.

Accept that you just don’t know.

You love your waiter, and therefore you want to be involved and supportive in their life. That is great, and for the most part you’ll be able to provide that. However, unless you have been or are currently a waiter, you are never going to fully understand that part of their life. Don’t take offense. My guy has no idea what it’s like to be an office admin. Waiters have a culture all their own, and it’s one that you just won’t “get”. That’s OK, though. You have plenty of other more important and interesting things to talk about anyway.

How leaving my husband made me love myself again

I've got quite a butt.

And my hips are, shall we say, very conducive to child bearing. 

I play roller derby, so my thighs are nice and thick. I'd like to think they're all muscle, but I'd be kidding myself.

I've also been pregnant once, so I've got a bit of a pooch, and my boobs are huge (30F) and no longer glorious. 

But hey, I'm actually ok with all of that. In fact, I let the entire city of Portland see my naked body during the World Naked Bike Ride last Saturday, and I was damn proud of how I looked. I wasn't ashamed, self-conscious (well, maybe a tiny bit at first), or embarrassed. For the first time in my life, I was proud of my less than perfect body and I was ready to show it.

How did I get there? How did I, someone who has always either been on some kind of diet or wracked with guilt and shame for not sticking to one, finally feel good about myself and proud of myself enough to stop hiding my body?

It's been a very long time coming, and all it took was one afternoon watching a model get body painted to turn my whole view around.

I spent the last 7 years of my life being in a relationship that was not good for my self-esteem. I tend to be air-headed, flighty, forgetful, and a bit messy and disorganized. I can't cook for shit, unless I have a recipe in front of me, and even then the food is palatable at best. Unfortunately, I was married to a man who had very old-fashioned ideals about what marriage should be like, and I tried my hardest to fit into that mold he set for me. To him, I was continually failing to live up to the standards he set for me. I was expected to keep the house clean, meals cooked, and have sex with him whenever he wanted it. I did not belong to myself, I belonged to him. In his defense, he was never abusive. He didn't physically hurt me or call me blatantly horrible names, and for the most part he was loving and treated me well enough, but he was still controlling and manipulative. Years of constantly falling short of someone I loved started to chip away at what little self-esteem I started with. I hated looking in the mirror; I hated taking showers and having to wash my disgusting body. Attempting to dress up and feel better usually ended up in me dissolving into tears and changing back into my pajamas. I was a mess. This spring, I left that relationship, and shortly after, entered into a new one.

I assisted my new fella, the creator and editor of a Portland-based magazine, in securing an interview with a body painter I had met during one of my derby league's fundraisers.  Being the self-conscious person I was, the thought of volunteering myself for this project was brief and fleeting. I figured there was no way my body could look good being painted like that, as it requires the model to be naked. (i.e. no Spanx to hold everything together!) However, over the 6 hours it took to paint her from start to finish, I started thinking very heavily about what I was seeing and feeling, and my epiphany started taking shape. The model being painted was gorgeous; she had an amazing, athletic body and talked with pride about how much weight she could squat in one set. She was tight and toned all over, and clearly had the perfect body for being painted up. To my surprise, as the afternoon progressed, it became clear that she still had her own hang ups about what she looked like. I got to thinking, how could this beautiful woman have the body most people would envy, and yet still not feel "perfect"? We are all so critical of ourselves, and we manage to find flaws where there are none. Why is that? What are we afraid of? Why are we hiding? I decided that day that I would not hide anymore. I broke up with the diet I was on. I stopped obsessing about my weight. I decided for myself that I am good enough for me, and I was done trying to impress people I would never meet. I was done killing myself to make others feel more comfortable with my appearance. I emailed Matt and said I would love to be a body painting model, and in return he said he would love to paint me. He said everyone has a perfect body for painting, because in the end, it's all art and bodies are beautiful.

My fella truly and honestly sees me as beautiful, not only physically, but he sees my potential, my drive, and my personality as amazing and inspiring. He encouraged me to participate in the Naked Bike Ride, and is thrilled that I want to be a body painting model. He's watched me grow from someone who would cover parts of herself with her arms to hide her flab, to someone who proudly struts around the streets of Portland naked, with nothing to hide. That confidence and pride is incredibly sexy. Breaking free of the relationship that broke me started me on this path to self-discovery. Don't get me wrong, I still have hang-ups from time to time, but I can laugh at how ridiculous they are now. I take care of my body. I eat what I want, in moderation. I stay active by playing roller derby, belly dancing, riding my bike, and going on walks with my kiddo instead of busting my ass at the gym. I am worth more than my looks or my housewife abilities. This life is a wonderful life, and I am done wasting it worrying about my body fat percentage and counting calories.

The end? Or the beginning...

Eyes.

Curtains.

Breathing, stabbing, shallow.

Over a month ago, I left home and didn't go back.

Our marriage had been slowly declining for a matter of months. There were some big issues that neither of us could get past. We just couldn't do it. The pieces of our lives that made the marriage good, solid, and workable, were falling like leaves off the trees. Slowly, quietly, but ever faster, until there was nothing left.

We tried. Goddammit we tried.

When I first moved back in December of 2012, I was so hopeful that we were going to make it work. THIS was going to be the best marriage on the planet. And for awhile, it was. We communicated, we listened to each other and respected each other. We went on date nights. Mo completely stopped playing video games. I lessened the amount of outside activities and stayed home with the family more. Christmas that year was amazing, I would even venture to say it was magical. It was to be the beginning of our new amazing life together.

Over the next year, I got a car with Mo's help, and I got a job. I started working full time and felt like I was finally contributing to the household. Four years of raising Rowan at home and I never felt like I was an equal contributor. Part of that was due to Mo's constant criticism of my work. The house was never really clean enough, I napped too much (with a newborn), I wasn't great at cooking. All of these shortcomings really drove my self worth down the drain, and made me feel like I needed to do more to make things equal. My answer to that was a full time job, and hopefully I could finally get approval from the man I loved.

As 2013 drew to a close, I started feeling those same feelings of foreboding. Mo was gaming more, I was leaving the house more. We were fighting more, talking less. Tiny nitpicking arguments turned into all out fights, with neither of us wanting to hear the other's perspective. Entire days of silent treatments would ensue, and ultimately one of us would break, start talking, and we would act as if nothing had happened. I was still failing to meet his expectations around the house, and I was working just as hard at it as I was before, but now also working full time during the day. It had been a year since I had come back, and he was no closer to trusting me outside of the house. Any time I left to see friends, or go to derby practice, I was riddled with anxiety, thinking he was at home wondering what I was *really* doing. I texted him constantly, in hopes to ease his mind and also to ease my own worries that he was mad at me. I had to frequently turn down invitations to social activities by my friends and derby league because I knew he wouldn't want me to go and I didn't want to anger him by going anyway. He wanted me home, every night, spending time with the family. Any time outside the house was stressful for me. He never physically banned me from going anywhere, or forbade it, but I could always expect a fight when I got home.

After the New Year, things really started sliding downhill quickly. My depression had come back, I was having trouble with my derby league, I was attempting to start a new business, and I started having neurological issues similar to MS that I was in and out of the doctor's office for. I was stressed, sad, angry, overwhelmed, and helpless. Not to mention, I was having some pretty severe doubts about my relationship. I didn't think we were getting it. We both seemed miserable and unfulfilled. I was walking on those proverbial eggshells again, afraid to talk to him about the negative energy I felt radiating from his body. I constantly wondered how he was feeling, because he was hiding his emotions again.We halfheartedly tried to go out together but usually just ended up fighting on the way home. Mo felt as though I had lost interest in the relationship, I felt like he had just given up trying. I think we were both right.

One Friday evening in April, a week before Easter, we had a huge blowout fight and Mo spent the night on the couch. As I lay there, curled up in a ball and crying, I made the decision to leave for the weekend. I knew that a couple of days away would clear my head and I would be able to know for sure if this time, I needed to leave for good.

That Sunday, I got my answer.

After a furious and ugly text conversation with Mo, it was pretty much decided that we were both done. I was the initiator, but he was done with me after I left. He would have been willing to keep trying, but I was positive it just couldn't happen. I stayed gone.

I feel as thought every aspect of my life that had become so familiar to me has been completely upturned. Roller Derby, which used to be a place of solace, had become a place full of drama, disappointment, and heartache. (Again!). My business, which had all my hopes and dreams firmly invested into it, was not panning out the way I had hoped in the slightest. I finally walked out on the horrible job I was at and started a new one, which had it's own set of stressors involved. And now my relationship of 7 years was ending for good.

Over the years I've dealt with my fair share of tribulations. A lifelong battle with depression and self mutilation, starting at 15, has left me with physical and emotional scars I'll probably have forever. I got married right after high school, and divorced less than two years later. I've lived in my car. I've attempted suicide. I've dated men who treated me horribly, who used me to fulfill needs and spaces they were lacking, then dumped me when I was no longer of any use to them, or I became to attached. I married Mo because I was in love with him, I didn't care that I barely knew him. But this is quickly becoming the most challenging life lesson I have ever encountered, and I constantly am asking myself how the fuck I'm going to get through it.

So now, here I am. I am renting a room from some dear friends who were kind enough to open up their home to me. It's become my sanctuary, the place I can walk into and breathe a sigh of relief, because I know I'm home. It's where I know I'm welcome to share my thoughts and feelings openly, without judgement, and I know I will get the support and love I deserve. This is a rejuvenated feeling for me, one I haven't experienced in a good long while. I can close my eyes, and breathe deeply, knowing that there is a wonderful, fulfilling, happy, and exciting life waiting for me.

And I can't wait to get there.

I'm not going back.

The plight of being female in this crazy, fucked up world

The public bathroom...

This is the world's most awkward location in a girl's life. She goes in to the bathroom for her daily afternoon constitutional to find it pleasantly empty. Good. She can now poop in peace. Most of the time, she's able to finish her business, wash her hands, and be on her merry way. Occasionally, however, the situation changes drastically, and has the potential to totally ruin her day and possibly many days following.

1. There is someone already in the bathroom. This initiates the poop standoff. How long has this person been in here? She doesn't know. So she enters the stall, sits down, and patiently waits for the other party to finish. This can be troublesome, however, because if she waits too long to get started, the other party hears the deafening silence that indicates she is waiting for something. It becomes painfully obvious what she is about to do. Not to mention the rogue toot that may escape, due to the seated position she is in, that will only further her embarrassment. She can only hope that person is almost done and will exit the bathroom quickly, never the wiser of the disgusting action about to take place in the adjacent stall. The standoff happens when the first person is already in there for the same reason, and neither one of them wants the other to know what she is doing.

"GET OUT ALREADY!"

2. There is no one in the bathroom, hallelujah! She begins her deed, but to her dismay, someone comes in halfway through. Now what? She can't continue, no way. The other person will HEAR what is happening, and god forbid SMELL it. All she can do is fervently wish that the other person will get in, get out, and get going so she doesn't have to hold it in any longer, and hope they other person doesn't get a good look at her shoes, thereby confirming her identity. She can try to force out the rest, exit the stall and wash her hands with lightening speed, intending to get the fuck out of there before the other person is done, but this is rarely successful. In a work environment, she now has to LOOK at the person who just heard her pooping, every day, and pretend like nothing unladylike ever happened

"Seriously? You had to come in NOW?!"

3. The last awkward situation here is when a girl enters the bathroom to discover, with horror, the person who is already there is pooping. Most girls are sensitive to each other, we don't want to embarrass or humiliate another female if we have no previous qualms with them. There is a silent, mutual agreement that happens here. The non pooper should not look at the shoes of the pooper, and in so doing discover who she is. She should also conduct her business as swiftly as possible to give the pooper a chance to pretend she's only in there peeing. The non pooper knows, of course, that's not the case. But if she doesn't know the pooper's identity, the pooper can remain safely anonymous in the work place. Occasionally, we run across that one woman that has abolutely no issues pooping with other women in the bathroom. That woman is awkward. Always. I hate it when I'm doing my thing while the other person is in the other stall, loudly and unabashedly eliminating yesterday's dinner, and then I'm having to awkwardly avoid looking at her while we're both washing our hands. I have to cauterize that image out of my brain, as it is.

And yet another ignorant statement is released to the masses

Hahahahahahaha.....

Ha ha

Excuse me, I'm laughing so hard. **snorts** Hahahaha

OMG.

Okay.

So, last week the American Academy of Pediatrics and the American Congress of Obstetrics and Gynecologists released a joint opinion on the use of water births in hospitals and birth centers. This has caused a wave of subsequent opinions all over the internet, starting from MD's and ending with first time pregnant moms. I read through the entire thing, and this is the basic gist of it:

"Water birth has not been proven either way to be safer or more dangerous for mothers or babies and has a list of potential complications, therefore should just not be practiced anywhere unless it is under very specific medical supervision"

"come again?"

Okay, I mean, that sounds bad, right? If something can't be proven as safe, why go forward with it at all, especially when considering the health and well being of the mom and baby?

Let me just put some stuff in perspective for you:

risks of water birth  according to this opinion:

• Higher risk of maternal and neonatal infections, particularly with ruptured membranes; 
• Difficulties in neonatal thermoregulation; 
• Umbilical cord avulsion and umbilical cord rupture while the newborn infant is lifted or maneuvered through and From the underwater pool at delivery, which leads to serious hemorrhage and shock; 
• Respiratory distress and hyponatremia that results from tub-water aspiration (drowning or near drowning); 
• Seizures and perinatal asphyxia

Yikes. That is quite the laundry list of potential complications from giving birth in the water. I can understand a person's concern after reading that.

So why is it still my opinion that water births are safe, effective, and should be offered to every pregnant mama as a choice for her birth plan?

Because childbirth itself is a risk. There is no 100% safe way to deliver a baby. Period. Water births are elective, and they have a list of complications just like any other elective during childbirth, such as epidurals and pitocin. Case in point:

risks of an epidural 

• Seizures
• Anaphylaxis
• Neurologic injury
• Persistent paresthesias and limited motor weakness
• Neurologic injury
• Cauda Equina Syndrome (nerve cell damage)
• Spinal Hematoma
• Spinal Abscess
• Hypotension
• Cardiac arres
• Accidental subdural injection
• Not to mention, epidurals essentially paralyze the mom from the waist down, which introduces a whole host of other potential complications from not being able to move around freely and choose a birthing position that is most effective. It reduces them to giving birth on their backs, which is the least effective and most difficult way to birth. Also, you are injecting something DIRECTLY INTO YOUR SPINE. WHYYYYY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!

"guh head and just jam 'er right in. It's just my spine. No big."

Risk of Pitocin 

• Anaphylactic reaction
• Nausea
• Postpartum hemorrhage
• Vomiting
• Cardiac arrhythmia
• Premature ventricular contractions
• Fatal afibrinogenemia (blood not clotting)
• Pelvic hematoma  
• Bradycardia (extremely low heart rate)
• Premature ventricular contractions and other arrhythmias
• Permanent CNS or brain damage
• Fetal death
• Low Apgar scores at five minutes
• Neonatal jaundice
• Neonatal retinal hemorrhage
• Contractions also come harder and faster, putting stress on the fetus and rushing the labor, and the end result is ultimately a cesarean because of risk to the baby.

Risks of normal vaginal delivery:

• Premature rupture of membranes
• Umbilical cord prolapse
• Umbilical cord compression
• Amniotic fluid embolism
• Pre-Eclampsia
• Postpartum hemorrhage
• Still birth
• Vaginal tearing 

Since cesarean sections are not always elective, I won't list the dangers associated with them here, but I will say that US rates are currently at 38.2%, which is ASTOUNDINGLY high. Are they safer than vaginal birth? Most of the time, no. Yet, we are still doing them at an alarmingly high rate. Not allowing a mother to make her own birth choices, move around during labor, and choose a position that feels the best and is most effective is the most dangerous thing an OB can do, in my opinion. Letting pride and ego get in the way of safe birth options is far more dangerous than a water birth. Despite these dangers, it still happens to thousands of women all over the country and most people don't even blink an eye. But when they "put themselves and their babies at risk" by choosing a water birth, everyone clutches their pearls and says a quick prayer that those poor babies don't drown.

"Heavens!! Someone call the CPA!!"

Unfortunately, this opinion has given internet trolls more fuel for their arguments against water birth. "It's dirty", they say, "It's unnatural", they say, "mothers who choose them are narcissistic, uneducated, selfish, and gross." they say and say and say. I don't know where these people are getting their opinions, but they are certainly not evidence based. My own water birth was amazing. I labored both in the tub and on my back on the bed, and ultimately I chose the tub and you couldn't get me out of there if you paid me. I used no drugs during my labor, and being in the water helped significantly. When I was on my back (and even on all fours) on the bed, the pain I felt was significantly increased. When Rowan came out, there was no "grossness", the water was crystal clear. I didn't choose that birth because I'm a narcissist (though I'll openly admit I am, haha!), I chose it because I knew that was the best option for myself and for my kid. Does that mean every water birth is as amazing and complication free as mine? Not by a long shot. It only takes one google search to find multitudes of women who have had great water births, and some that ended not so great. Most of the "not so great ones", however, don't blame the water for their complications and I'd bet money you'd see the comment "It would have happened in the hospital too" on 98% of them. As for the unnatural comment (this was a real facebook comment, saying that because apes didn't give birth in the water, so shouldn't we...), please tell me what IS natural about epidurals, OB/GYNs, IV's, scales, vitamin shots, and vaccines? All of those are unnatural and we still do them at almost every birth. 

"No babies here!! Look away!!"

Every woman has the right (and I would go so far as to say obligation) to research all the possible options for giving birth, and weigh the risks and benefits of each one. Water birth is not for everyone, some women are skeezed out by it and that is totally ok. If they decide an elective cesarean is right for them and their baby, despite massive evidence against it, that is their right and they should be freely allowed to exercise that choice. If they want to have a natural child birth out of the water, more power to them. My problem with this opinion that has been released, is that it states water birth should not be practiced because of the risks associated with it. This is madness. If we really needed to cease all practices that posed a risk, we really should just stop having babies.

We have a website!

My goals this week were to pick up some store fixtures, finally pick a name, and get a website going.

DONE, DONE, AND DONE.

I picked up some naked mannequins at City Liquidators, and browsed the other stuff they had to get an idea of how much money I'm going to need for everything.

Hint: It's a lot. But not as much as I was thinking.

"Hey, whitey, ever hear of sunscreen?"

nyuck nyuck nyuck

Also, I finally, after many MANY MANY name deliberations, have settled on a name:

Wonder Skates!

The basic theme idea is a comic book inspired theme. I don't want it to be too over the top, to where it looks like a joke, but the store will be bright and fun.

Now that I have a name, I also have a website AND a facebook page.

Check 'er out: www.wonderskates.com or www.facebook.com/wonderskatespdx OR BOTH.

In which I follow a dream.

I'm not going to heavily advertise this, simply because I'm a coward and don't want to listen to negativity, but I have made a pretty big decision for my life recently and I do want to document the process from start to finish.

I have decided to start my own business.

As of right now, there are currently FIVE roller derby leagues in the Portland-Vancouver area. There is a league in Salem, and a few in southern Oregon. Our state is PREGNANT with roller derby right now, and only growing bigger. And what are our options when it comes to buying gear and derby apparel? Not much locally. We can buy anything online, and for a pretty good price, or we can go to a roller rink pro shop. There are a few disadvantages to this though:

1. Ordering online sucks because you have to wait. First world problem, I know, but when you're excited and want to start using your new skates right away, or you REALLY need that helmet, nobody wants to wait 7-10 business days to get them. Not to mention, returns are a HASSLE and you had better hope it's what you want so you don't have to deal with.

2. Pro shops typically have limited hours of operation. Usually only during open skate times. Their selection is also pretty limited, and they employee high schoolers that aren't typically well educated in getting someone what they need.

"Knee pads? Yeah we have those I guess. You can also just, like, wrap them in an ace bandage or something, I dunno. Sorry, I'm kinda busy right now."

Enter me!!

My plan is to open up a skate shop that caters to the roller skating community of Portland and Vancouver. I'm not talking about a skateboarding shop that also happens to carry some derby stuff but really just skateboarding stuff... I'm talking about a shop that carries roller skates, gear, apparel, and accessories JUST for derby, speed skating, dance, jam, art, what have you. Fuck, even if you just like to roller skate around town for fun, you'll get what you need at my place. I'm also going to have stuff that caters to counter culture peeps. So lots of alternative clothes, makeup, jewelry, etc.This way, even if you don't need derby stuff, you can still come down because I'm likely going to have something you want.

"I personally don't do anything remotely active or athletic, but I still find everything I could ever want and need at Apex"

Oh, and I'm going to carry derby branded athletic wear, like Pivot Star and Derby Skinz. That's right, you'll now be able to get your Francey Pants and sparkly booty shorts LOCAL.

Mmmmmm. Francey.

Eventually, I want to have a skate and gear rental program, so those who are new to skating can try stuff out for a small weekly fee before they commit to buying. I'm hoping this will also encourage them to come back to me when they're ready to purchase.

"Hey Cierra, this all sounds real swell, but what is your next step?"

I'm glad you asked, Jimmy.

I have already started scouting out potential locations. I plan to stay in the North Portland area to keep the rent down and so my commute isn't horrible. I've seen some stuff I like and gotten a pretty good idea of what I'm looking for. I also learned what an NNN lease is. I feel like an expert already. My next step is to finish my kickass business plan and start working on finding a lender. I'm going to need around 20K to hit the ground running. So for now, I'm saving my pennies and getting all my ducks in a row. My next big step is to approach a bank with a proposal for an SBA loan.

Stay tuned, more exciting badassery to come!!!