Meet Local Bites

It’s not an identity crisis. It’s an identity evolution.

When I left my job to venture forth into the world of self-employment, my head reeled with a kazillion ideas. Three stood out from the pack; freelance writing, consulting services and a tangible food/wellness center. All involve writing (obviously) and education. But the latter also involves access to a commercial kitchen, hosting workshops and setting up retail of locally produced items. In my unicorn, fairy tale world, the first two eventually lead to (and help finance), the third. Right now the third is but a dream.

But what the hell do you name a business that embraces it all? Have you ever named a business? I thought it would be soooo much fun. It’s been nothing short of schizophrenic. I have five email accounts people. It’s time for a merge.

You have met Warm Turkey and Reality Wellness.  They describe my no-nonsense approach to improving mind, body and soul. But even my biggest fan thought Warm Turkey meant comfort food, you know, like a nice turkey sandwich? And Reality Wellness is cumbersome and  theoretical. Not very catchy.

Local Bites is the corny party-crasher that’s been hovering around my keg for some time, kinda like Flounder in Animal House. Persistance pays off. Where Reality Wellness was the tall, elegant lady with long shiny hair, Local Bites is the perky, short round gal with curls. Reality Wellness invites you to make eco-friendly improvements. Local Bites busts some chops. Reality Wellness was my girl crush. Local Bites is who I am.  

I think you’re getting the picture.

Mark Twain once described sound bites as “a minimum of sound to a maximum of sense.” I love that. It’s my new mantra. Local Bites gives you edible and conceptual pieces to chew on. Local Bites says bite me when it needs to. Yes, this is a name I will invite to sit down and play cards with me. As long as it lets me win sometimes.

Growing pleasures, people, not pains. Grow with me.

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4 thoughts on “Meet Local Bites

  1. aejohnson says:

    Thanks Pants! Oh, the marriage of the mails is already underway…they are eloping. It’s all very hush hush. You can contact me through the usual channels. Tin cans on a string.

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