This writing challenge might be the death of me. But as Scarlett O’Hara said, “as God as my witness”….you know the rest.

It’s 6:14 pm as I start this (edit: it’s 9pm as I am just about to publish) and I have been laboring all day over the subject of this post. I was going to pen early this morning, but between horse chores, Roux and work at the Factory, time slipped. And admittedly, the pressure of this challenge has my fingers poised and my brain numb. After so long without consistent writing, the subject becomes too much pressure.

And then I asked myself WHY this blog slipped a little (or a lot?). When did we stop writing? Track it back, and you’ll find that about 4 years ago, this thing veered off course. Our baby, our blog was given the boot for a newer, shinier baby. Enter, Shirt Factory.

Scott has encouraged me to write about our ownership for the last many years. But something felt so disingenuous, as if our writing here was a meager attempt to market our new baby. The truth is that it has become our life, at a price. And if we can’t write about our life on our own blog, what is the point?

On February 1st, 2018, we took “ownership” of the Factory. And after 4 years in the hospitality/restaurant industry (2 of the years abnormally spent dealing with the effects of Covid) – this is not for the faint of heart. There have been so many tears. So. Many. Tears. I have spent nights with a pit in my stomach, wondering how to make it through the next day in business. We have received harsh words from harsh critics, been compared unfairly to other local establishments, and made a million bad business decisions.

But when we step back after a busy bar night, or a successful Speakeasy, hear the hum of chatter between friends at Bourbon Club, see an Instagram post of a latte and lunch at the cafe, get a rave review after we hosted a baby or bridal shower, or fall over in exhaustion after the most epic and insanely crazy brunch – it’s the injection of endorphins to the vein that keeps us plugging along for another day. It’s the most incredible high when you please someone, give them something to look forward to, to enjoy.

In full disclosure: Scott and I started the process to sell the Shirt Factory this last year. We decided that our figurative baby had to give way to the literal baby that was coming, and we couldn’t imagine anything interfering with this perfect little human who was about to rock our world. And then life happened, and things shook out differently, and we found ourselves taking the helm – an opportunity for me to stay at home with Roux and manage the operations of the Factory with more flexibility than I would have while teaching.

Thank. God. We. Did.

For no other reason but the fact that we weren’t done. Right as our business was climbing leaps and bounds in early 2020, Covid shut us down and we lost the momentum. We got creative and resorted to all take-out to make ends meet. At the end of it, only three of us managed the entire operation every weekend: Scott at bar, Christopher (my brother) serving tables, and I manned the kitchen. It was exhausting, and we felt we just slipped quietly into the night. We faded away- no final bar nights, no fanfare, nothing. We were depleted. Selling seemed like a matter of survival, not as a means to correct the sleepless nights and make it all worth it.

Life works out in weird ways. And we have a love of the Factory now, post-Covid, that we haven’t felt in years. We have a team that inspires us every day, and we have a patronage that is steadfast and loyal. We are so incredibly blessed.

This might not always be the case, and we know that inevitably the Shirt Factory will be our past and not our present. But tonight we are toasting to 4 years of small business ownership and the countless number of friends that we have made as a result. Scott and I have grown stronger in our marriage as a result of our ownership and we are so proud of the work that we’ve done.

Cheers to 4 years, friends.