If you were hoping to talk to me about a project or you were looking for a freelancer, feel free to get in touch. I’d be happy to recommend someone.

When I started Red Bird Editorial back in 2007, I had no idea how I’d make it work. At first I relied on the kindness of former employers who assigned me stories and helped connect me with more work. Over the years I was able to keep those relationships, branch out, build my business and work for some amazing and fantastic people.

Lots has changed since that day in January when I sat at my kitchen counter and thought: So I did this. Now what? Since then I’ve acquired a husband, a new last name, a new BFF and an office that’s not also the kitchen and living room.

But these last six months or so, I’ve been feeling like it’s time for a change. This is my last week as a freelancer. Next week I begin my job as integrated marketing/communications specialist for Engaged Health Solutions.

I always thought that if I ever went back to a full-time job it would be because I had to, and that I’d feel I was giving something up. But I am so excited about the company I’ll be working for and the work itself that I don’t feel like that at all. I’ll miss hanging with Bucket, of course, and it’s a little bittersweet to be moving on because I will really, really miss some of the work I’ve been doing. But the overall emotion is excitement.

I started blogging here to share news of my freelance projects, and stories of life as a self-employed crazy dog lady. I veered off at times, but all of these things—Mexican adventures, politics, bits about my family—shaped my work life.

As I move on to new things, the blog is moving on too. I’ve got no real plan for how to populate the new space, but I have really enjoyed writing here and hope to keep it up over here.

In work news, I’m looking to make some changes and will share news when there’s news to share. For now, here’s an update on some projects. The April issue of Mindful Metropolis is out and I’m so happy about the response to about my story about Aspire CoffeeWorks. It’s rare that people you write about express so much enthusiasm for the final product and it’s been great to get their feedback. I also wrote a piece about a great, totally free, energy efficiency program for Cook County business owners. It’s stimulus money funded so get on it now!!

And, two teachers from yogaview and another from Yoga Bear’s Healing Yoga Project are entered in Yoga Journal’s cover model search. So this week is about finding the balance between promoting and annoying as I remind fans to vote often. Later this week, watch for a new piece from me on EcoSalon as well.

Also, I’m feeling really lucky right now. Today started with a scare when Bucket got out of the yard. I’m so, so thankful that our friend Tony who had stayed here with us this weekend, has fast feet, quick wits and is loved by Bucket. He found her in the playground across the street and after minimal yelling she came right to him. Relief doesn’t begin to cover how I felt. We’ve had Miss Bucket for less than a year but she’s become a huge part of my life.

I’m a firm believer that when one needs grown-up lady clothing, one should head to Banana Republic and seek out he gayest man one can find. Today, that man was Howard; Howard with the lovely eyes and false (but really lovely) eyelashes.

2. If You Write About Abortion, People Go Bananas

My latest story for EcoSalon has made more anti-choice people mad. Against my better judgment I entered into an argument about semantics. Whatever, it was more entertaining than Monday night TV. Interestingly, no one sent me nastygrams in reaction to my story about how Yoga Bear is bringing free classes to cancer patients or to the one about what makes an awesome animal shelter volunteer.

3. Trader Joe’s Has the Best Frozen Items

I know I was on the cooking track for a while there, and I’m still trying. But I have to give a quick shout to my all time super favorite TJ item—Paneer Tikka Masala. I know it’s full of sodium. I don’t care at all. I have to stop myself from eating them two at a time.

4. Only Gross Things Come Out of the Dog

Sorry for putting this after the food thing … I’m really second-guessing my decision to feed Bucket tomatoes. My smart friend who knows about gardens and stuff suggested that it would neutralize her pee and stop it from killing all of the grass. But while I was with Howard, she pooped all over the house.

I think lady soldiers should hold in them a great control over their feelings and responsibleness. They should be “protected” first before going to “war”.

and (excerpted from a longer comment):

As a female vet and Soldier, there’s reasons you cannot get pregnant while you’re in a combat area of operations…And in edition to leaving base, that is for accountability reasons, ESPECIALLY in areas considered to be hostile or potentially dangerous. Who wrote this??

Well, I did. And then I went ahead and put it on the internet and opened myself up to criticism from people who have lousy grammar, who are confused about how a lady soldier might get pregnant and who definitely don’t like me. But that’s sorta the fun of it.

My work for EcoSalon has been rewarding—for as many people as there are who hate what I have to say, there seem to be more who appreciate it. The first piece I wrote is still on the site’s Most Debated list, and I think that’s awesome.

I stand behind the reporting I did for both of these stories (somehow the story about Jane Russell didn’t piss anyone off) and I’m okay with the criticism. Sometimes I will fight back—see my response to the gazillion page Leviticus lovin’ letter about my Chick-fil-A story—and other times I won’t. It depends on my mood, how much time I have and how annoyed I am by the comment.

My friend Sam (who wrote a response letter to the chicken story that was nothing short of genius) and I were talking, okay we were tweeting—whatever, about this issue the other night while he was mid-@ fight with a total hate-spewer who wrote something along the lines of:

I don’t even know how you can tweet from so far up some left wingers ass

Sam and I took that opportunity to imagine what it might be like to tweet from inside of an ass, and we created the short-lived but fun #asstweets.

I guess what I have learned from my new adventures in blogging elsewhere is this: Into each life (or tweet or blog post) a little ass must fall.

If I call to request an interview with you for a publication that everyone in your industry reads, why do you not call back? This is infuriating. I am not writing an expose, this is a trade mag, people. Free press. CALL ME.

This one is on behalf of a few of my ladies braving the mad, bad world of online dating. Men: Why do you show up for dates drunk? Being nervous is not a good enough answer. If you have a problem with alcohol, maybe state one of your interests as: excessive drinking. Someone may want to date you anyway.

Finally, my mom sent me this NYT story about a House Republican bill that would cut funding for poison control centers. Not only does this save next to nothing, it will increase pricey ER visits. This is just dumb.

Last night I made what’s known around the house as: one of Libby’s weird stir-fries. I don’t know why it never occurred to me to include chickpeas in a stir-fry, or, for that matter, why it took me 34 years to come up with the idea of a peanut butter and cucumber sandwich—delicious open-faced and toasted!—but it didn’t occur to me until last night.

Here’s what happened: I sautéed some garlic and green onion in grapeseed oil, added the chickpeas (I’m going to have to work on my method as they were less crispy than I’d like), and at the last minute added broccoli and sugar snap peas. Then I threw in some Thai peanut sauce and served it up over brown rice. If I do say so myself, it kicked ass.

In work news, things are good. Yesterday I interviewed two people, wrote an article and a blog post about Jane Russell. I also got back to yoga and spin class this week.

In Bucket news, girl has spring fever and is bringing nudging to a new level. I wish she was a better communicator because there are a few things that would make both of our lives better if she understood them:

Dinner is at 6:30. I am allowed to move from my desk after 3pm without her freaking out and thinking I’m going to feed her.

The UPS truck is not coming to kill us, neither are the dogs that walk by.

Poop is not for eating. I cannot stress this enough.

Photo: Jude Doyland

Last week shook me to my core and made all of these projects, that I do care deeply about, seem meaningless. My aunt and my best friend’s dad—who, after 30 years of friendship definitely gets family status—both passed away very suddenly. In Noridgewock, Maine, my aunt Diane’s two daughters and my uncle Larry are taking care of each other with support from a large community of friends and family—a community that has lost one of the kindest people I have met. And in Chicago, a family I consider my own gathered (loudly, lovingly and with a jug band) to say goodbye to a father and husband who loved them every second of every day. What Diane and Peter have in common is this: an overwhelming number of people turned out to say goodbye and show support for the families.

So today, I’m looking at my to-do list with a heavy heart, rather than with the excitement I’d anticipated. But I’m happy for the reminder that I am part of a family—blood and chosen—filed with so much love.

More good news: I have been invited to be a guest blogger on CUREToday, CURE magazine’s blog. I’ll be writing about Yoga Bear’s Healing Yoga Project, something I am really passionate about. I’ll pass on the link when it’s up. In other Yoga Bear news, we’ve done some tweaking on the site and our fearless leader Halle created this super cool map of free yoga classes across the country.

I’m also continuing my work for iVolunteer. My next blog post covers Oscar-nominated documentaries. And print, I still love you! I have some magazine stories in the works, too. Coming soon: a piece about a coffee partnership empowering people with developmental disabilities and another about a new green Chicago Charter Public School.