The title of this post kind of seems like something out of that movie “Babe”.
Okay, great way to start off. Let’s see, where was I.
Ah yes. So things are moving. I feel like I talk about this a lot. This state of moving. Recently I was reading my sister-in-law’s post about her baby figuring out how to crawl, and how frustrating it is when you can’t go where your body wants to go. That’s understandable for a human being. Especially when you face plant into your own spit up. (I mean, we’ve all been there, right?)
But as I was saying, since the last time I mentioned it, I was going to be transitioning into my new role as a cook at the pastry shop. Sometimes you put the cart before the horse in the midst of exciting transition (and beer).
We are still working things out. It is hard to know how these things will work. How to staff, what your food costs and overhead might look like. You have to weigh out your options. Some, much heavier than others.
I am though, very much excited. I love that I can hash things out without fear of someone lashing back. I love feeling confident. I love feeling like I was built for something. Even when the moving gets slow, it’s still progress. Am I right?
Yes. I think so too.
Also, I’ll be flying to Atlanta, Georgia later this week to hang with my dad for a big Spring shindig he’s throwing. I am in charge of the menu and most of the cooking as he claims I cook “the second best gumbo in Portland”. And while that’s 70-80% true, I’m not gonna bother refuting it either.
It’s been a while since I’ve been to Atlanta. Since before I was married, which makes it sound so much more dramatic. Like, “all those years ago…”
But really, about 4 1/2-5 years, give or take. I have sentimental feelings for Georgia. I lived there for a year. I’ve never cooked in that capacity for Southerners though. I’m a little nervous. I think I can pull it off though. Given the right amount of good bourbon and pork, anything is possible.
Thank you, though. For keeping up with me. And following me (not creepily, though).
It means a lot to have folks read things that I write from time to time, though I know you have plenty of options.
I will end with a conversation from the movie “Babe”, because now I can’t stop seeing it in my head. It is between the farmer’s mean cat and Babe, the pig:
Cat: Alright, for your own sake, I’ll be blunt. Why do the Bosses keep ducks? To eat them. So why do the Bosses keep a pig? The fact is animals that don’t seem to have a purpose really do have a purpose. The Bosses have to eat. It’s probably the most noble purpose of all, when you come to think about it.
Babe: They eat pigs?
Cat: Pork, they call it – or bacon. They only call them pigs when they’re alive.
Babe: But, uh, I’m a sheep pig.
Cat: [giggles] The Boss’s husband’s just playing a little game with you. Believe me, sooner or later, every pig gets eaten. That’s the way the world works. Oh, I haven’t upset you, have I?
ps. y’all know they don’t eat Babe, right? Okay. Cool. Just making sure we’re all on the same page.