The Long and the Short of the Days Before Christmas.

When I was a little girl growing up in southern California, the short but warm sunny days before Christmas were met from sunrise to sunset with anticipation of the big day to come. My mom worked, so that meant my brothers and I did pretty much whatever we wanted. Thank goodness the only electronic distractions were the TV and radio, so most of our time was spent outdoors playing in our city neighborhood, running in-and-out, in-and-out, in-and-out of the apartment all day.

Of course our Christmas tree was already up, glorious, yet barren underneath, except for a few small packages that had arrived from a stray distant relative. The challenge was to shake and shake and shake the one Christmas present under the tree with a tag with my name on it! This developed into trying to unwrap and rewrap it stealthily - no one would know.

But wait! I LOVED getting Christmas cards in the mail! Maybe one would have a $5 bill in it! I'm pretty sure $5 couldn't even buy a Barbie doll back then, but it could now. (Merry Christmas China!) I enjoyed the long-life versatility of Christmas cards: I would cut up last years cards to make into whatever 7-year-old masterpiece I could with scissors, tape, glue and crayons. The current years cards would be hung next to each other to admire and pick the best one of the bunch, updating my selection if a bigger, brighter, more glittered treasure arrived that day.

Today, at least in our house, the Christmas card is all but waiting for the nail in the coffin. Except for a few hold-outs and those 'yearly letters' that I love to hate (NJBoy likes them). They're always from people whose grade-schooler Madison DaVinci won an award this year for their presentation on String Theory. When my kid was that age their science project featured Michaelangelo, Leonardo, and Donetelo but they were Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and they lived in a sewer.

Plus I'm jealous because they all have paying jobs.

Most of the Christmas cards we receive are from businesses like insurance companies, real estate agents, etc. I'm no better. The last cards I sent were NJBoys' and my first Christmas as newly-weds. We'd been up in New Jersey for Thanksgiving and went to New York City for my first visit. The MoMA gift shop had amazing cards and I couldn't pass up the black and white photograph of a striped tabby cat standing on his hind legs to rub his whiskers on the stick-arm of a dirty melting snowman. In black and white the snowman was kind of gray. We loved it. I had my address book with me, so we passed the hours our long drive home by filling out our cards. It was a valuable distraction with NJBoy and I coming up with fun and clever things to write inside the cards, then toning it down a bit.

Since I'm the Highest Level Officer at GalloLea Organics, I've made an executive decision that GalloLea Organics will NOT participate in the Business Christmas Card sending. No, Christmas cards should not be from businesses and agents thereof, but from friends and family. And this is only my opinion, and it's certainly colored by my marketing and advertising background- to see it as one more 'marketing tool'. One that I've helped out with my own clients! (insert shame). But if you're reading this, and you've done business with us, then THANK YOU and HAPPY HOLIDAYS and may your New Year be MOST PROSPEROUS! And if you are reading this and you're friend or family, don't bother looking in the mailbox for a card from SoCalGal and NJBoy either. We missed that opportunity on our last 12 hour drive home from Thanksgiving.

Maybe next year.

My favorite Christmas card this year! Made for us by Lisa (the Mighty Quinn)

GalloLea Organics: In The Beginning Before the Beginning

SoCal Artist Gal relocates to Asheville, North Carolina, via 15 year stop-over in Atlanta, Georgia. New Jersey Boy transfers to Asheville, NC by way of 10 year derailment in Spruce Pine, NC. Both flying their own separate coops in search of better jobs and more rewarding lifestyles.

They both land in Asheville the same week, each setting up their own nests in the same little neighborhood unbeknownst to the other. A few days later, late in the evening on a long June day NJBoy is out on his bike, not too far from home. SoCalGal is also out, wandering the streets with map in hand, looking for a hilly walking route. It begins to rain, her map dissolves into blurry lines and she waves down the nearest cyclist (NJBoy) to assist with directions home. Unfortunately for her, he has just moved to the neighborhood and is of little help directing her home. But they chat, turns out she too has a bicycle and so the new transplants exchange e-mail and she eventually finds her way home.

Fast-forward three years. SoCalGal and NJBoy ride their bicycles up to a high-point of the Blue Ridge Parkway, say their vows before friends and family, and ride back down on a tandem bike to start their new life together, employed in the still thriving economy of spring 2008.

Super-fast-forward to spring 2009, the economy has crashed and burned, and both our SoCalGal and NJBoy are unemployed and searching for new financial meaning in life. Thus is born GalloLea Organics and the Pizza Kit.

Any Italian NJBoy worth his salt and his pasta is going to have his signature recipes and our NJBoy is no exception. NJBoy has his grandmother's 'gravy' recipe, so he tweaks it slightly to use it for pizza. The quick rise whole wheat crust takes them a year to develop and (I really can't stress this enough) a LOT of pizza eating, to get to the final recipe for the GalloLea Pizza Kit.

And here, readers, is where my blog begins. I'll fill you in on the agony and the ecstasy of starting and building a food business in a trashed economy, the exploits of our duo as they continue to learn, one day at a time, how to make a living and not kill each other by the end of each 25 hour day.