new job

Oh my. So, the slow pace of the last 9 months of life came to a...I would say "halt," because that seems the natural word choice, but that would be wrong. Because it hasn't come to a halt, but to an absolute kaleidoscope of activity. I can't even fit it all in one post. But stay tuned! Posts coming soon: family visits me in the Great State of Oregon (hence my internet absence), some really cool diy projects I crammed in before my first day of work, some late birthday coolness (I know, I know, that was weeks ago! I'm milking my birthday for all it's worth!), & the last art class. Those are all subject to change, btw. Just one of the perks of being the author:).

But, job. There is a place called Willamette Valley Fruit Co. (here's a link to their site) a few miles from where we live that I've been in love with since moving here. It is the sweetest little place filled with chalkboard art, ceramic egg cartons, mason jars, prettily packaged jars of jam, marionberry pie, tons of twine, burlap, & just oozing of localness. They have a harvest festival in the fall, (remember this post from last October?) an Easter egg hunt, & all sorts of cute little events in between. People stop by for coffee & a slice of their famous pie & leave feeling as though the world hasn't gone as much to pot as we all thought. They are defined by their pies, which they sell all over the state & West Coast. And get this: the lovely lady we live with started this pie company. (?!)  Also, Dar sells his blackberries there in the summer where they are made into pies, frozen for retail, or otherwise processed. I can give you a small lecture on the varieties of blackberries alone & the lineage of the marionberry, so named because it was developed right here in Marion County.
So, anyway, along with all of those personal connections, I felt an immediate attachment, because as anyone from the Dotterer lineage knows, Dotterers love pie. My uncle used to say that the only thing he liked better than pie was pie with ice cream. I have many fond memories of my dad eating his favorite, peach custard. There was a way to eat a peach custard pie: first, you dipped out all the cinnamon-dusted peach chunks from their firm custardy bed. Then you scraped the custard off & enjoyed it solo. Lastly was the now bare crust which you only ate because you had to. Although, if you were my younger brother, it usually made its way under the table. I speak the truth.

But, I applied for a job there in December & kind of gave up on it when months passed & I didn't hear from them. Until a few weeks ago. And now I am officially an employee & get to work in a berry pie environment & arrange cute jars of lemon curd & make breves (which is only a latte made with cream instead of milk). It is divine. Oh, & it's part time. More divine.