While in the midst of yet another fitful night of sleep, my thoughts bouncing around in my head like an Arkanoid ball on acid, I had a few I'd like to share. If only to get them out so I can make sense of them.
First off, getting back to my parents. What parents don't want to eagerly take their child off to visit colleges and help them make a choice on a fine institution of learning? Mine. I wanted to go to the Culinary Institute of America in New Hyde Park, NY, and was accepted to my utter elation and surprise. When the weekend came for me to go visit the school, my Dad had "something come up" and couldn't take me. Somehow later I found out that my Mom had gotten his ear and told him not to take me. An enabler she is, but only if it suits her needs. She never supported my cause or ambition when I auditioned for, and made the Crossmen in 1996, thus making me practice harder and raising all the money myself. (she was ecstatic when I busted my knee and had to leave tour early, though not saying it in so many words).
It still hurts, knowing I wanted be a chef since I was 16, and being told to "give it time and see if that's really what you want to do", "you have no idea how hard those hours are with no holidays or weekends off". And on and on. I went and did the Manhattan/cubicle rat thing for a while, and temped at every place imaginable only to be completely miserable and empty.
I met and married Glenn and suddenly I had to cook for someone. I remembered that I had a passion for it and thus went looking at culinary schools, to finish what I never got to start nearly a decade earlier. I never went to culinary school, although I was accepted to 6 different schools in the NYC Metro area, as it was just too expensive and too much stress on a new marriage. Instead I found work anywhere I could in the hospitality/food service industry. I learned a lot from a lot of great people, and some life lessons from a few misogynistic douche bags that felt women had no place in "back of the house" work unless it meant getting chased around a desk or fucked stupid in the walk-in. I had no interest in either scenario, so I moved on from those places only to find a better environment, and people to learn from. (Still mostly men, as the women in a chef's position can be more of an unholy ass munch than the men).
My Mom made it decidedly easy for me to hold off on having a baby, if only for the way she held me back from so many things I wanted to do in life. Remind me to tell you all about California someday.
I really feel deep down that Glenn isn't in a rush to have kids either. He lost his father at age 11, and never really had a father figure around to teach him all the big boy things. Glenn is a mans man, and I do not, by any stretch, mean to imply otherwise. I also think that he's comfortable with his life the way it is and is okay with no offspring. Hooray for more Border Collies.
WHOA, LOOK... A BUNNY!
I need to practice my mellophone sometime before next weekend and get the warm-up book and Opener under my fingers and somewhat memorized, I just can't seem to motivate myself. I learn faster and memorize easier at ensemble anyway. Some things never change.
On that note, boned stuffed duck in a pastry crust is my task this weekend that I am going to thoroughly enjoy. Did I mention this was about tangents?