Affirmed

A quality horse, Affirmed. He won the Triple Crown in 1978. I’ll bet you didn’t know that I have a sweet spot for horse racing. That’s right. Every year I do my best to see the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness, and the Belmont Stakes. I slept through the Derby this year (I was exhausted, so sue me!), but it was DVRed and I watched it the following day. Sans commercials. And I’m very good at avoiding any information that might act as a spoiler. I did not know who won the race when I turned it on last Sunday. I do know I was rooting for Gary Stevens, who came out of retirement this year at age 50 to sit a horse. I know, I know. You have no idea who the dude is. Have you seen the movie Seabiscuit? Mr. Stevens played George “The Iceman” Woolf, the legendary jockey who filled in for Red Pollard following Pollard’s disastrous injury and rose Seabiscuit to victory against War Admiral. I always look forward to Mr. Stevens’ analysis at each of the Triple Crown races every year. I was a little put out when he wasn’t in the box last weekend. Imagine my surprise when I find out the man’s not in the box because he’s in silks. Woot! (Yes, I just “wooted”… deal.) I rooted for Mr. Stevens, but it’s a good thing I didn’t bet on Oxbow. His seat wasn’t quite as fast as I’d hoped. I’ll admit, the other horse I would’ve bet on was the winner… Orb.

Affirmed was a fantastic horse, but that’s not what I was talking about when I brought up the subject.

I went to work like a good girl today and everything was going along swimmingly, then someone in management decided to rain on my parade. People, I’m the head of a committee, and have been since I was voluntold to join said committee three years ago. I take this position very seriously. Our only real event of the year is this Wednesday and it’s a HUGE to-do. HUGE! Without going into the finer details that really don’t matter, Little Mary Sunshine decided to irritate the hell out of me and get in my way. No one tiptoed through the tulips… no, of course not. My tulips were trampled. Let’s just say I felt affirmed in my decision to quit my job. There are things I am not going to miss! Alright, let’s be honest. I’m going to miss about six people and nothing else. Good news! I can still visit the friends without working there. Whew!

Anyway, I wasn’t looking for affirmation of my decision, but I got it nonetheless. Cool beans.

Brian, Ally, Mom, Dad, and I went to dinner last night to honor Mom. I know Julie and Ethan could’ve called it when it came to the restaurant of choice–my mom is a very predictable woman. Mexican food. So it was off to Carlos Miguel’s. We had a fun time over good eats. We discussed the FA soccer tournament and Wigan’s victory over Man City, the March Madness tournament, underdogs in sport, and my job. (How those relate, I don’t know.) My brother thought I was quitting my job immediately. No, no, no, no, no! By the first week of July. All of a sudden, I realized my last day of work should be July 3… that way I’m free by July 4. For my friends abroad, that’s Independence Day here in the States. Clearly, they haven’t beaten my sense of humor to death as yet. <grin> I figure if I was willing to give notice on April Fool’s Day following my fifth anniversary, I should be able to coordinate my departure with Independence Day, right?

Nooooo! I hate season finales!

After dinner, we had a dessert that I prepared yesterday afternoon. Oh. My. Gosh. Strawberries Romanoff. Essentially a liquored up strawberries and cream. Goodness gracious me, oh my. I’m pretty sure people would liken it to less than G-rated activities (but this is a G-rated blog most days, occasionally PG, so we’ll leave it to your imaginations). It’s that good. (You should’ve known food stuffs would be off the table for only so long… it’s what I love to do and how I relax. The reprieve is over.)

Alright, my lovelies… it’s off to sleep for me. To dream–well, if I dreamed–of a better job and apple dumplings. Don’t ask, just accept that my mind moves in weird and mysterious ways.

Happy Mother’s Day to *My* Mama!

I’m the oldest of four children. My folks were married six years before I came along. For all of my life I’ve been told I was prayed into existence because my mom couldn’t get pregnant. By the time my mom was my age, she’d been married seventeen years (this Thursday, to be exact) and had four kids… I was eleven and my sibs were eight, six, and four (because their birthdays are all in November).

My mom was perfectly suited to raising a houseful of kids. She’s the second oldest of seven. And she has six brothers. Is it any wonder that when broken arm #8 occurred, she calmly finished what she was doing before packing up and leaving work to go see how my brother was doing? (For the record, my brother Ethan has broken both of his arms twice; Brian has broken one arm twice, one arm once, and one plaster cast; and I am responsible for one broken arm.)

My mom was the official scorekeeper for the boys’ Little League teams every year. She was a Den Mother in Boy Scouts and a troop leader in Girl Scouts. She was the president of the booster club for choir and created and produced the football programs for something like eight years for our high school. She packed our lunches until we hit high school. She took us to school and picked us up every day. She took us to piano lessons every Wednesday for years. And I do mean YEARS.

She taught me to read a map. At one time or another, she relinquished the front seat to each of us to handle the navigation on road trips. She meticulously planned our road trips, finding the crazy, out-of-the-way locations that made our trips truly memorable. She’s the reason I see travel as a full contact sport.

She taught me to cook. I’m most possibly getting ready to change careers and head to culinary school. I owe a good portion of this decision to her. She taught me to fear nothing in the kitchen. And it’s her roast beef, mashed potatoes, and gravy that I want for my birthday dinner every year. It’s her apple cake that I have made for years, wowing those who taste it for the first time. She made me breakfast until I hit high school (I took zero period which means class started at 6:50 a.m. … she may love me, but she wasn’t getting up that early!). She cooked dinner for the family every night and instituted Taco Tuesday when we were spread out… all the chicks came home to roost for tacos, chicken enchiladas, and chilis and cheese every Tuesday night.

She hates to read, but loves movies based on literary classics. She can’t spell worth a darn and readily admits it when I proofread something for her or when Ethan reads through our family’s Christmas Memories Book (we’re on book three because my folks will celebrate their 43rd anniversary next week… each book encompasses 20 years of family Christmases). She cheers loudly for USC and the Dodgers–like mother, like daughter.

You may want to argue that you have a fantastic mom, but there’s no convincing me she’s better than mine.

This was the very first ball game I ever attended… Dad took this photo of Mom and me in July of 1981. We’re both wearing tops she sewed. She’s got a pen in her hand because she’s keeping score. The lighting was perfect and it’s my favorite picture of Mom and me. She’s explaining somethinerother about what’s happening on the baseball diamond. And here you see the start of a love affair… me and the Dodgers. (In fact, I’m wearing a Dodgers sweatshirt right now that I threw on at five o’clock this morning when I woke up cold.) She and Dad are somewhat to blame for my undying love for the guys who wear Dodger blue.

It Is Finished

Nope, I haven’t quit yet. Neither have I made a final decision. “Then what is finished?” you query.

I finished telling everyone (a.k.a. the important people in my life) that I’m quitting my job and what options I’m looking into. The overwhelming responses have ranged from, “Go for it! It’s about time you got outta there!” to the more demure, “I think this is a good thing for you, you need a change.” What can I say? I have fantastic family and friends. They’re supportive. Three people have expressed concerns… one coworker, one friend, and my pops. Refocusing on Pasadena as opposed to Dallas and Pasadena and telling them I’d be picking up a full-time job in my industry has alleviated some of their concerns, though. After all, those concerns involved picking up additional debt (not working and taking on college loans), not having health insurance (something that was never an option for me for obvious reasons), and splitting locations and moving more than once… all valid concerns. There are a couple other concerns still out there, and I’m not brushing them off. They’re all worth serious consideration.

When I started taking a more focused look at Pasadena, I sent an email to a friend of mine who used to be a Bodily Injury (BI) Supervisor when I was a Non-Injury Supervisor. I asked her what the going rate is for a BI adjuster (which we both currently are since we were both laid off from our management positions) with experience. Way-ull… it’s niiice. And significantly more than the pay here in Colorado. I’d be able to put rent on top of my existing monthly obligations and still pay down the remainder of my debt–while going to school! Plus I’d still be growing my 401K and have the safety of health insurance in the event my body nose dives during the 21-month course of study. I’d have no personal life Monday through Friday for 21 months, but I’d have health insurance! Silver linings, right?

Anyway, Debbie and I tried–again–to take each other to lupper (lunch/supper) at Tucanos. <sigh> Third time’s the charm? We walked in and were told they weren’t accepting walk-ins until 9:00 p.m. Um, we walked in at 3:00 p.m. I checked their signage… nothing about not taking walk-ins. When I got home I checked their website. Nope. Nothing there either. So, I sent an email to the manager to let him/her know we didn’t appreciate having our birthday plans foiled. We ended up going for hamburgers at Five Guys and then Glacier for dessert. Gelato, to be exact. I chose a scoop of brown sugar cinnamon (think snickerdoodle ice cream with no snickerdoodle cookies in it… sooo good!) and a scoop of stracciatella (a.k.a. Italian chocolate chip ice cream). Mmmm. The only fruity flavor that interested me was lemon poppy, but I’ve had it before and didn’t think it would go with the brown sugar cinnamon gelato. Man, I love homemade ice cream and gelato.

I also got to see my friend Sarah when I went over to the clubhouse to have them test my keycard. Turns out it was wigging out due to the butt cold weather we had. 7° F to be exact. Like I said, butt cold. I’m planning to hit the gym tomorrow. And I plan to go Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday before work if I can. I also plan to resume upon returning from California on Sunday. (I did mention I’m flying to California on Wednesday night, right? Adri’s commencement? That whole thing? If I didn’t–oops!) I told her what is going on… her response? “We’ve got to get together many times before you leave?” Again… supportive friends. Whether or not I go to culinary school, it’s really nice to be so loved on by the wonderful people in my life.

Top this day off with chores around the house and a pedicure and it’s been a pretty darn good day.

Brass Tacks

Speaking of which, let’s get down to them… the brass tacks, that is.

I spoke with a rep from Le Cordon Bleu in Dallas, a scheduled appointment, this evening. Funny enough, three minutes after we rang off, a rep from Pasadena called. The latter call wasn’t scheduled, but between both calls, I learned a lot.

First, the way they run their schedules means I can have a full-time job. And that means I can have full benefits–401K, health insurance, the works. Woohoo! They have block schedules:

• Monday through Friday, 6:00 a.m. – 10:00 a.m.
• Monday through Friday, 10:00 a.m. – 2:00 p.m.
• Monday through Friday, 2:00 p.m. – 6:00 p.m.
• Monday through Friday, 6:00 p.m. – 10:00 p.m.

And classes start every six weeks. Ms. Pasadena thought I should start May 20. Uh… no. They have sessions starting July 8, August 19, and September 30. Classes go back-to-back-to-back-to-back. Students get three weeks off at Christmas, three weeks off in the spring (near Easter, I think), and three weeks off in the summer. It’s a breakneck pace for twenty-one straight months. Aye-yi-yi.

Ms. Pasadena also had housing to offer… yup, the Pasadena campus has dorms. Of a sort. Apartments, really. Ms. Dallas doesn’t have that to offer. They’re sending me the financial aid packet and such. I did think it was funny that Ms. Pasadena has made it her personal quest to win me over from Ms. Dallas. Nope, not making that up. She actually said so. That’s fine, though. To the highest bidder goes the spoils, right?

Squirrel Moment:

Dr. Watson: “Let me guess, whoever hired Sutter Risk Management is our new suspect. If we identify whoever hired them, we’ll find Wallace’s killer.”

Sherlock: “I’ve already identified him. His name is… Made… Up.”

Awesome. I kid you not… I am a fan of most things Sherlock Holmes. The movies with Robert Downey, Jr. and Jude Law; the BBC series with a man who is my current celebrity crush, Benedict Cumberbatch (and who arguably has the BEST name in all of Hollywood!); and Elementary with the first Mr. Angelina Jolie (Jonny Lee Miller) and Lucy Liu. The dialogue is always entertaining.

Okay… now back to our regularly scheduled program.

Ironically, I’ve had an incredibly productive week at work. Nope, not recanting on my decision to quit. Doesn’t mean I can’t see the humor, though. Yesterday, I told the girls  I lunch with on Wednesdays. They now know that we’re on borrowed time. And that I won’t be here in October for the Girls’ Night Out that I instigated… boo. I suggested we all attend the Straight No Chaser concert together. Unless I can figure something out (which I probably can), that is.

So the funniest thing about both calls is that both ladies tried to talk me into visiting their campus. I think they see that as the best possible sales pitch. I hate to spoil the fun, but I’m thirty-seven years old. I lived on campus at USC. The University of Spoiled Children, Stupid Coaches, South Central–I’ve heard them all. Yes, the University of Southern California. Not the University of South Carolina. I am a Trojan, not a Gamecock. Don’t make me sing the fight song. I will! But I’m not going to be swayed by shiny kitchen appliances. I expect it to be fantastic. And I don’t need to tour of the town. Firstly, I’ve been to Pasadena and South Pas many times. And between Madame GPS and family, I can make my way around Dallas just fine, thank you very much.

As I was writing this post, Julie (the sister) emailed me to get an update. She’s all up to speed because we’ve been shooting emails back and forth for the past hour or so. She asked if Pasadena has something over Dallas. I told her the housing situation is actually a plus. And so are the job opportunities. Los Angeles is a much larger pond than Dallas. The pay scale is also higher. As such, job potential is exponentially better in L.A. So Pasadena is a big plus. Her response? “And you’ll be closer to all of us. Or should I just say Henrik and Claire?” True dat. The munchkins are most certainly a big draw. What kind of aunt would I be if I didn’t want to go play with the nephew and niece on a lovely Saturday or Sunday?

So I’ve decided I need to drag my butt into the clubhouse and get my keycard rekeyed so I can start hitting the gym again. I need to be as regular as possible with this. After all, if I move out of state, I won’t exactly be next to my free gym anymore. Oh dear, I think we found a con. Hmmm.

So there you have it… we’re still in the fact finding stage. Now to check out job possibilities in SoCal.

Moving Forward

First things first… I hate the Gnats. And I really hate when the Gnats are beating my Dodgers. But it’s only the third inning… a lot can happen.

I talked to my baby brother today because I didn’t want him left off the family grapevine. He thinks culinary school is a fantastic idea. It was pretty funny because we were both on our cell phones while driving so we kept talking over each other. He did ask if I could snag some management courses as that’s the area he sees as lacking in the restaurant industry. When I told him I could take online courses after I finish the degree program, he was very encouraged. He also told me he has seen a pastry chef cry when a head chef chewed her out… but then he said I had far more backbone than she does. Why thank you, brother dear. I’ll take that as a compliment.

I also sent an email out last night to my best girls (minus two I forgot–shhh! don’t tell!) and my two aunts. If you heard very loud cheering around 10:00 p.m. MT last night, that was my aunt. Her response was hilarious… I’ll paraphrase: Do it! Quit now! Get out of there! It’ll kill you! (Bear in mind we work for the same company.) In all seriousness, she was very excited. A few of the girls have chimed in and they’ve all been positive thus far. My favorite response was the one I received from Joanne this morning, “YAY! Finally you are doing it! I’m praying for a great job for you with a cute, tall, single, Christian, never married guy who owns the joint and whom you can marry, have kiddos with, and live happily ever after!” And I can pretty much guarantee she’s praying exactly that. I love her. She’s hilarious! She and Chris both say the most outrageous things. They’re never boring!

I talked on the phone with Marilyn (my honorary grandmother) today. She called my dad last weekend and asked how her granddaughter was doing.

Um, why do the Gnats’ jerseys read, GIGANTES? I’ve been watching the game since the start of the second inning and would appreciate a ‘splanation. Just sayin’…

Anyway, I told Marilyn about my plan. I have never heard such an excited 83-year-old! She’s been convinced for quite some time that there’s a husband out there in a culinary school just waiting for me to arrive. No, I’m not joking. Now she’s praying about this in earnest. I think she and Joanne should meet. I’m hoping I can get out to see her and Jim before I go to culinary school–if I go–because I won’t be able to once I get started. And I just can’t fathom not seeing them for two years. That’s unacceptable.

Okay. I’m back. I know you’ve been wondering about my whereabouts for the past hour and a half. Jackie read my posts and called. This was a short conversation, an hour and twenty minutes. No tears. We both got caught up and we both know what we’re praying for each other. She’s priceless. In the best way. And she had a business idea that has such merit I’m keeping it to myself. I don’t want anyone to steal the idea in case it becomes a reality.

I can’t remember the last time I was looking at the clock on a Sunday night, knowing I have to get up and go to work in the morning, and not feeling the panic rise. I’m actually relaxed. There’s such a relief in knowing that no matter what comes to pass, by the first week of July, I will be quitting. Whether it’s to take another job or to head to culinary school, I’m quitting. There’s a freedom in this knowledge.

With that, I’ll leave you all with wishes for a lovely evening!

P.S. Church was FANTASTIC today! Fan-tas-tic. Really good.

Armed with a Plan

Yes, I started today with a plan:

1. Go to the Chef’s Catalog warehouse sale.
2. Go to the fabric store to get something that’ll work for a lightweight jacket and trim for a dress my fantabulous mother is sewing for me.
3. Send an email to my out-of-state sibs regarding the present upheaval in my life.
4. Take a nap.

I set my alarm for 6:45 a.m. and was out the door by seven o’clock. My parents and I have been to this sale three times now. It’s a blast! We head to Starbucks and grab hot chocolate for Dad and I and coffee for Mom. Then it’s off to the store. The first year we went around 11:00 a.m. Bad idea. They’re already pretty picked over. Last year we went around 8:30 a.m. Better. This year we were in line by 7:45 a.m. The doors open at eight o’clock. People cheered. It was hilarious! I picked up KitchenAid’s 12-cup food processor. It’s not their newest model, but the one I got is still the top-rated. I bought it for $90.00. It was originally over $200.00. And it had never been opened so I’m excited! I also picked up a couple odds and ends and was out the door for $98.00 even.

We dropped off my dad and then Mom and I headed to the fabric store since she needed some stuff as well. The fabric for my dress is white with coral-colored roses. I found a lovely reddish brown crepe that’ll be used for the trim and jacket. Browns are tricky for my skin tone, so I held it up for Mom to judge. She thought it was fantastic! When I held it up to my neck, my cheeks bloomed with all this pink. When I took it away, the pink left. I’m telling you, coral is a great color for blondes! And the reddish brown could be argued as a dark coral. (Have I lost all the men in the room yet?)

I did send the email to my sister Julie, my brother Ethan, and my sister-in-law Adrianna. It read:

Hi guys,

I’ve decided I’m quitting my job. One might argue this isn’t the best time based on the still lagging economy and job shortages, but after four years of being told I’m not good enough at what I do (even though I lead the pack in many of my stats), receiving compliments that are followed by all the ways I can improve, and being worked beyond what I’m capable, I’m beyond burnt out. When you leave work and just want to cry, you know it’s time to get out–AND I’M NOT A CRIER! That said, I haven’t yet quit my job… I won’t do that without a plan.

I’ve looked at a couple of different opportunities here in town and all will require a pay cut–some worse than others. That’s fine. I’ve worked my tail off the past two years and paid off all but two bills. My monthly requirements are actually quite low so that’s doable. But when I look at these options I get major butterflies in my stomach. And while this may sound weird, God talks to me through my stomach. He has for years.

I was also thinking about two conversations with you, Julie. About eight years ago, you were out to Colorado to visit and asked if I’d ever considered culinary school. And you had reasons. I never had, other than the boot camps run by the CIA, but you got me to thinking about it. Then you asked me again when we were driving to dinner at Super Mex last month. I actually thought it was really odd that you’d bring it up eight years later. Especially when to all the world it looked like I was in a stable job that I just didn’t care for much, but wouldn’t leave for at least another year.

So I pulled up Le Cordon Bleu online. I started looking at what the options are and they’ve enlarged their program since I was last on there… they now have an actual associates degree in pastry/baking, after which I can choose to take their management courses online if I want. The latter provides a certification as well. What’s interesting is that they now have a campus in Dallas. Where we have family. And where I would be a short drive from more family, and good friends because Jason, Esther, and their kids now live on the west side of Houston. I can also split the program and do half in Dallas and half in Pasadena, including the externship. The L.A. Times test kitchen pulls from the Le Cordon Bleu externship program, so that would be an option–an extremely enticing option for yours truly. Nerding out in the kitchen and then parlaying it into a writing situation is right up my alley.

I sent a request to speak with reps from both campuses and spoke briefly with the rep in Dallas. We have an appointment Thursday night to go over everything in greater detail, but she confirmed I can split the program between two campuses and would still get cuisine courses, something I wanted in there somewhere. The associates degree is an 84-week program. You can bust it out in a year and a half if you commit to going straight through, or you can take a quarter off, like for summer break.

The interesting thing is that I have zero butterflies when I consider this option. My stomach is as still as can be. I announced to Mom and Dad on Wednesday that they needed to start praying for a new job for me and to put me on the Sunday school prayer list and Mom’s prayer time at CBS [where my mom works]. Then I told them about this idea last night. Mom’s on board. Dad’s hesitant. But it helped when I told him I still had to get a lot of ducks in a row before I’d go this direction.

So… if you could pray for guidance as I figure out where to go and what to do, that would be greatly appreciated! I’ve decided three months is the cut off. And no, I won’t make it until I’m vested next March (but I checked and I’m about 90% vested at this point, so the loss isn’t severe). I’m too stressed… I’m getting migraines from work stress; my blood pressure is still high when it isn’t controlled by medication, from stress; and I’m depressed more often than I’m not. So it’s time for some changes. And I’m single… if I screw up, it’s only me in the balance and not a spouse and kids.

Thanks,

Beth

I’ve already received two replies:

Julie: Exciting. Don’t think too much. Just do it. I believe you are an AMAZING cook.

Adri: Thank you for sharing. I love the plan and will pray for continued confidence and faith to step out into something new. I just take exception to giving Julie all the credit for the idea. 

Do I have great family or what? As I said in the email to the sibs, my mom is on board and my pops is hesitant. He’s coming around, though. We had a looong conversation today and discussed the potential for a restaurant downtown that serves breakfast on Saturdays only; lunch that is dine in or to go consisting of sandwiches, soups, and salads; and then dinner consisting of well made comfortish food. For example… I have a killer meatloaf recipe that has to be frozen (don’t ask, just go with it). So you make it today and freeze it. Tomorrow, you cook it for the dinner run as you make and freeze a new batch. Then on day three, you serve leftover meatloaf in sandwiches, fresh meatloaf for dinner, and then make the new batch. Wash, rinse, repeat. I’d also make my braised turkey every Sunday night with all the trimmings and prepare enough turkey to have leftovers for turkey sandwiches all week long. Sandwiches with cranberry mayo, cheddar cheese, bacon, and whole grain bread. Trust me, they’re good. Really good. But, if I had a restaurant, I’d be known for some killer desserts… homemade ice creams, my mama’s apple cake, peach cake, my drunken apple pie, and my cheesecake, amongst whatever else I learn to make, right?

Don’t get me wrong… I’m not set on owning any eating establishment. I’m not set against it either, though. A test kitchen appeals to me on many levels and is easier to cope with concerning my lovely back conundrums.

Well, after talking briefly with the rep from Le Cordon Bleu’s Dallas campus and emailing the sibs, I slept for three hours. Glory be, it was needed. I truly haven’t slept well for a few weeks now. The stress has even invaded my sleep. Is it any wonder my coping skills are at a minimum? Aye-yi-yi. I will admit to being a little shocked at the rapid, vehement responses from Julie and Adri. Being sleep deprived and overly emotional, I got teary when I logged into my email and saw both. I do love my sisters.

All that to say, it’s been a fabulous Saturday. And I’ve been smiling, just as I promised I would. I still need more sleep and I still have details to iron out, but I’m leaning more and more toward this new direction in my life. With no butterflies… and I wasn’t being facetious. The Lord really does talk to me through my stomach!

I closed out today with a healthy dinner of almond-crusted baked chicken, broiled asparagus, and spinach salad. You got it… homemade. And yes, I’d put this dish on my restaurant menu for dinner. If I someday have a restaurant. So if you’re a person of faith, please offer up a prayer every now and again… for wisdom and guidance as I proceed forward. And for the confidence to follow His will wherever it may lead. I’ll take all the prayers I can get, for where two or more are gathered in His name, He is there.

P.S. The migraine was gone when I awoke this morning. Amen! Hallelujah!

“It’s a helluva a day at sea, Sir!”

So whenever I hear the phrase, “helluva a day,” I always think of this line from one of the funnier B-rate movies of all time, Overboard. And it hasn’t been a helluva a day. It’s been a helluva a week. So bad, in fact, that I decided on Wednesday that I’m quitting my job. Nope, I haven’t recanted. Nor have I turned in my notice. However, I’m actively seeking employment elsewhere as of now. The straw that broke the camel’s back finally fell. And I’m done.

There was that blissful moment during my drive home when I was complaining to the Lord and I had a revelation. I’ve worked my ass off over the last two years to pay down a ton of personal debt. I was planning to work my ass off for the next year to pay off every last cent to my name… but I don’t have to. Instead, I can take a pay cut and take longer to pay it off because my monthly financial obligations are actually quite low. My work has paid off in that regard. So I’m not worried about chasing down the same paycheck I’m currently bringing home.

Further, I’ve decided to put some serious thought into whether or not I can chuck it all and go to culinary school right now. I have a couple of ideas and sent a request for contact to Le Cordon Bleu, my culinary school of choice. I’m interested in their associate degree for baking and pastry. However, I’d still like to take cuisine courses and I’m not sure how to swing that. I’m also interested in using multiple campuses, but we’ll see. I already have a loose plan regarding culinary school, but I need more information to see if it’s feasible.

Anyway, the week just went downhill from Wednesday, capped off by today’s misadventure. I awoke with a headache that progressed to a migraine as the day went by. If I hadn’t had three meetings today that I needed to attend, I would’ve gone home. But no… I had to be responsible. At least I had PT scheduled after work. And you know it’s bad when Scott presses a place on your jaw and asks, “Is that as tender as it feels?” Uh… yeah. It is. He didn’t use needles because today is Friday and he wouldn’t be able to fix anything if I had an adverse reaction to being stabbed. Instead he used his thumbs and pressed the hell out of the muscles in my shoulders, neck, jaw, and face trying to get everything to release. I’m about 25% better. Thankfully, I don’t have to cook dinner this evening… leftover homemade cream of chicken soup and biscuits. And all the painkillers in my arsenal. And let’s not forget the hot pad and my rocking chair. For the moment, I’m cuddled under the covers in my pajamas with only my blue light on.

Speaking of dinner… it’s warmed and ready for me. Next time we talk, I promise to be smiling!