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I always thought that at 50 things would look a little more glamorous.
You know, flowing linen dresses, sipping herbal tea, doing sunrise yoga on a deck overlooking the ocean.
Maybe developing a mysterious hobby, like pottery.
Or learning Italian so I could dramatically say things like “Basta!” while tossing fresh basil over a simmering sauce.
Instead…
I turned 50, quit my job, and now I spend my mornings trying to keep a sourdough starter alive while counting crochet stitches that I will absolutely lose track of anyway.
And you know what? I’m actually kind of loving it.
The Job Exit
People always expect a dramatic story.
“Did you slam your laptop shut?”
“Did you tell someone off?”
“Did you stand up and shout ‘I’M DONE HERE?”
No.
I saved a Word document.
Closed a few tabs.
Did more than I should have.
It was less a Hollywood exit scene and more midwestern goodbye.
But even without the dramatics, it was huge.
Because for the first time in a long time, the next step was up to me.
The Crochet Dream
Crochet has always been my safe place.
Some people meditate.
Some people jog.
I count loops while muttering under my breath and occasionally threatening inanimate fiber.
There’s something magical about making something cozy out of literal string.
And now I want to make that my actual, real life job.
Will I become a crochet mogul?
Will I at least remember where I put my stitch markers?
Unclear.
But I’m showing up with my hook, a plan, and a possibly unhealthy emotional attachment to my yarn stash.
Meanwhile, in the Kitchen…
I also decided to start baking bread because apparently, my brain said:
“You’re starting over. Let’s make this harder.”
Bread baking is humbling. (even if using a bread machine)
You can follow every instruction.
Measure every gram.
Watch many YouTube videos and your bread will still come out looking like a deflated beach ball.
But when it works?
There is no power like holding a fresh loaf you made with your own hands. It puts a smile on my face. I just have to remember to talk to the bread as it is kneading; this is a very important step.
Where This Blog Fits In
This is where I share:
• The chaos
• The triumphs
• The bread failures that look like prehistoric fossils, especially sourdough
• The crochet projects that turn out way bigger or smaller than intended
• The joy (and occasional panic) of rebuilding life from scratch
If you’re here because you’re also 50+ and rebuilding… pull up a chair.
If you’re here because you crochet… I hope you brought snacks.
If you’re here because you saw the word bread… I respect your priorities.
We’re doing this together.
Stitch by stitch.
Rise by rise.
Life, re-stitching itself in real time.
