I have reached a new level of procrastination. I know, I know, everyone thinks I just do everything I say at the time I say it. Well yes, I eventually do (eventually is my new favorite word and you'll be seeing a lot of it) what I say...but not necessarily when I say it.
"Do or Do Not, There is No Try" - Yoda, is the way I live and maybe that is why I don't exactly go full steam ahead when doing something. The word try gives you the 'out' to fail.
A lot of thought goes into what I do and though it may seem that I am impetuous, in fact I'm not. It takes a while for me to make the commitment, but when I do its like a blur of activity and perhaps that gives the impression of impulsiveness.
But I am off on a tangent, as so often the case.
The morning is spectacular. Probably low 60's. Sun is absolutely blinding. The lake is still and the daily cacophony bird calls is the only sound I am surrounded by. My first thought upon awakening at 6:45 was "I'm going for a ride". Perfect morning for it. After all, this is why I am here in the first place.
I made my way downstairs to prepare my daily jolt of caffeine and to take care of Zia (walking and feeding). As I take the half & half out of the frig, I noted the package of ground beef on the second shelf. I'll have to do something with it today.
"Why not now?" asked the voice in my head.
As all thoughts of riding were put aside, but not too far aside, I went through my cabinets and frig and assembled on the counter, all the necessary ingredients (including freshly picked parsley) to make...meatballs.
Now, lest you think I make meatballs weekly, as does my Mom, I haven't made meatballs in...let’s see... forever. In fact I don't remember the last time I even considered making them. Further more, I would venture to say that when I bought the ground beef, the last thought on my mind was meatballs. It was probably more along the lines of hamburgers to grill. Yet, there I was at 7:15 a.m. on a Wednesday morning, elbow deep in ground beef forming little balls of delicious. I am convinced my neighbors think I've achieved a new plane of insanity...I mean...its not even Sunday.
It amazes me that I will go to many lengths to avoid doing something. I am sure I am not alone in that. But most will putter, do this and that. The gnawing thing in the back of your mind (which you shoved there) is there like a gnat that won't go away.
What is the big deal about missing a ride? Nothing really. Except until yesterday, I hadn't been on my bike in over 3 weeks and yesterday's ride was far from fun. In fact, I rode half my normal mileage and hated almost every minute of it. So instead of doing what I usually love, I would rather clean my shed this morning.
But I will....as SOON as I finish this.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
Peeling Back the Layers to my Heart
There is no better way to truly get acquainted with yourself than purposely isolating from everything and everyone you hold dear. In the state of removing yourself from the familiar, you happen upon a place that is somewhere between excruciating hell and the heaven you ultimately hope to find.
Not many people do this intentionally but there are those of us who are insane enough to try. The problem with getting to know who you really are is that as you struggle through the ups and multiple downs, you aren't fully aware that what you are really doing is resetting pieces of your heart that somewhere along the line became confused by ideals which no longer serve you. For most, attempts are abandoned midway and distractions which appear behind a variety of masks are eagerly embraced.
Unlike the setting of a broken limb, setting a broken heart or spirit is undeniably complicated. For one thing there isn't anything which physically protects the injury in order to aid in the healing process. All you have is the hope and faith that you will somehow find a reservoir of internal strength you didn't even know existed.
My journey to the halfway mark has been marred by expectations I've had where I thought that once the temporary set of circumstances which kept me here changed, I would once again be free to rejoin my friends and family back home. I decided long ago that because this was temporary, there was no point in me establishing a life when I knew I would be leaving eventually. The problem with eventually is that it does not define a time table, so the end result is a life half lived because of commitments unwilling to be made with the excuse of not wanting to disappoint or hurt others. That thought, tucked in the recesses of my brain, has acted like an invisible yet solid barrier to all I could consider committing to here. Even though, on close inspection, the circumstances are completely self imposed.
Until last week, I had not returned to the City for any considerable length of time. I finally got 'outta dodge' and back to a world and energy that I so loved and desperately longed for. The City has always been a beacon for me and the distance and exile have made the yearning sweeter still. The holy grail of a life well lived.
It is amazing that you can communicate with people twenty four hours a day by any electronic method and still break out into the widest smile when you see them them enter a room. While sitting in a popular midtown restaurant with people I love and dearly miss, I was surprised by a certain feeling. As I looked at the smiling faces around me I realized what I truly desired was not found in that place. You can be surrounded by everything familiar and everyone you love and still have a sense of loneliness which can be crushing. I loved the idea of sharing meals, and wine and most importantly the endless laughter and face splitting smiles. But, at the end, there was one thing which didn't make sense to me. Here I was, back where I longed to be, and somehow I felt I was missing something vital. There was a lack of contentment just shy of being absurd. I realized then that almost everything I wanted was not found in that there.
For the first time in my life I really understood the phrase "Home is Where the Heart is."
I am back in Vermont now and the pressure is off as to whether or not I am here temporarily. It doesn't much matter. As long as I let go of the idea of protecting my heart from unseen hiccups in the the road, I will no longer view this as an unwelcome detour but as part of the journey which would lead me somewhere I've always wanted to be. And that somewhere is where I am now. At peace with myself.
Not many people do this intentionally but there are those of us who are insane enough to try. The problem with getting to know who you really are is that as you struggle through the ups and multiple downs, you aren't fully aware that what you are really doing is resetting pieces of your heart that somewhere along the line became confused by ideals which no longer serve you. For most, attempts are abandoned midway and distractions which appear behind a variety of masks are eagerly embraced.
Unlike the setting of a broken limb, setting a broken heart or spirit is undeniably complicated. For one thing there isn't anything which physically protects the injury in order to aid in the healing process. All you have is the hope and faith that you will somehow find a reservoir of internal strength you didn't even know existed.
My journey to the halfway mark has been marred by expectations I've had where I thought that once the temporary set of circumstances which kept me here changed, I would once again be free to rejoin my friends and family back home. I decided long ago that because this was temporary, there was no point in me establishing a life when I knew I would be leaving eventually. The problem with eventually is that it does not define a time table, so the end result is a life half lived because of commitments unwilling to be made with the excuse of not wanting to disappoint or hurt others. That thought, tucked in the recesses of my brain, has acted like an invisible yet solid barrier to all I could consider committing to here. Even though, on close inspection, the circumstances are completely self imposed.
Until last week, I had not returned to the City for any considerable length of time. I finally got 'outta dodge' and back to a world and energy that I so loved and desperately longed for. The City has always been a beacon for me and the distance and exile have made the yearning sweeter still. The holy grail of a life well lived.
It is amazing that you can communicate with people twenty four hours a day by any electronic method and still break out into the widest smile when you see them them enter a room. While sitting in a popular midtown restaurant with people I love and dearly miss, I was surprised by a certain feeling. As I looked at the smiling faces around me I realized what I truly desired was not found in that place. You can be surrounded by everything familiar and everyone you love and still have a sense of loneliness which can be crushing. I loved the idea of sharing meals, and wine and most importantly the endless laughter and face splitting smiles. But, at the end, there was one thing which didn't make sense to me. Here I was, back where I longed to be, and somehow I felt I was missing something vital. There was a lack of contentment just shy of being absurd. I realized then that almost everything I wanted was not found in that there.
For the first time in my life I really understood the phrase "Home is Where the Heart is."
I am back in Vermont now and the pressure is off as to whether or not I am here temporarily. It doesn't much matter. As long as I let go of the idea of protecting my heart from unseen hiccups in the the road, I will no longer view this as an unwelcome detour but as part of the journey which would lead me somewhere I've always wanted to be. And that somewhere is where I am now. At peace with myself.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
I'll Take My Life with Pulp Please
After the first full night's sleep in many days I awakened to a blinding sun and bird calls riding on a breeze. I no longer have the need to set an alarm and fully appreciate the luxury of waking up when my body is ready. Usually a very early riser, this morning my body was telling me to catch up on much needed sleep.
I went down and puttered around the kitchen preparing breakfast. With the ritual of coffee making behind me, my eyes caught sight of three oranges on the counter which I bought the other day in order to make a fennel and orange salad. The fennel is long gone and as I stared at these oranges I noted that if not consumed soon would certainly wind up in the trash.
Orange juice. Of course. Why not? I mean, how country can you get?
I went in search of a hand juicer I knew I had, you know, one like your grandmother probably used and found it in the far depths of my small appliance drawer. I thus proceeded to 'make' orange juice. 'Making' orange juice is a misnomer because what you really do is extract the liquid from the fruit. The one I have is set on a strainer in order to capture the pulp. As I twisted my way through two oranges the volume of pulp increased. There, I had juice. Really sweet juice, but I also had these little bits of orange that are usually discarded.
It took me a second, but I realized that 'hey, I like the pulp.' I wasn't going to toss it. So back in went into my glass joining the crushed ice and liquid.
As a woman, I've probably been conditioned (maybe by images in society) to want a perfectly clean life. Nice home, nice car. Perfect guy who brings home flowers and takes me dancing. The model of what we all deep down inside are supposed to expect. Guys on the other hand, are bombarded with photos and ads of wreck less abandon. They get to have the pulp. Its OK for them to experience the bits and pieces that don't make it perfect.
We are supposed to strain it.
But I like pulp. It makes the juice sweeter. I didn't like what the clear liquid in the glass was telling me. Have I always taken the best parts out in order to leave behind the flavor but not experience the substance? That must the case because in the past few weeks I've been experiencing a lot of pulp. The controlled of part of me wants to make this perfect for my comfort zone. But in this case, I can't and I know it. Yet I'm unwilling to discard the bits that don't fit in with my image of perfect.
I have no desire to extract the undesirable pieces out of my life. They are the things that make it rich. Otherwise there would be no depth to anything I do. I do not want to experience just the pretty and unblemished, there is no point in that. The pulp is what makes my life interesting to me. The more I don't discard it, the more I realize that my life is meant to be lived in the multi dimensional world I actually exist in, instead of some cleaned up version that can only be a facade to how I want to live.
I went down and puttered around the kitchen preparing breakfast. With the ritual of coffee making behind me, my eyes caught sight of three oranges on the counter which I bought the other day in order to make a fennel and orange salad. The fennel is long gone and as I stared at these oranges I noted that if not consumed soon would certainly wind up in the trash.
Orange juice. Of course. Why not? I mean, how country can you get?
I went in search of a hand juicer I knew I had, you know, one like your grandmother probably used and found it in the far depths of my small appliance drawer. I thus proceeded to 'make' orange juice. 'Making' orange juice is a misnomer because what you really do is extract the liquid from the fruit. The one I have is set on a strainer in order to capture the pulp. As I twisted my way through two oranges the volume of pulp increased. There, I had juice. Really sweet juice, but I also had these little bits of orange that are usually discarded.
It took me a second, but I realized that 'hey, I like the pulp.' I wasn't going to toss it. So back in went into my glass joining the crushed ice and liquid.
As a woman, I've probably been conditioned (maybe by images in society) to want a perfectly clean life. Nice home, nice car. Perfect guy who brings home flowers and takes me dancing. The model of what we all deep down inside are supposed to expect. Guys on the other hand, are bombarded with photos and ads of wreck less abandon. They get to have the pulp. Its OK for them to experience the bits and pieces that don't make it perfect.
We are supposed to strain it.
But I like pulp. It makes the juice sweeter. I didn't like what the clear liquid in the glass was telling me. Have I always taken the best parts out in order to leave behind the flavor but not experience the substance? That must the case because in the past few weeks I've been experiencing a lot of pulp. The controlled of part of me wants to make this perfect for my comfort zone. But in this case, I can't and I know it. Yet I'm unwilling to discard the bits that don't fit in with my image of perfect.
I have no desire to extract the undesirable pieces out of my life. They are the things that make it rich. Otherwise there would be no depth to anything I do. I do not want to experience just the pretty and unblemished, there is no point in that. The pulp is what makes my life interesting to me. The more I don't discard it, the more I realize that my life is meant to be lived in the multi dimensional world I actually exist in, instead of some cleaned up version that can only be a facade to how I want to live.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
More Focus Please
Life has taken on an interesting dynamic of late. For many years I had an idea of my future simply from understanding where I was at any given moment. It would stand to reason that if a path was followed in a particular way, then the outcome would most likely be what I thought it would be.
But in the past six months, there has been no understanding of where I was at any given moment. Those who know me well can attest to the fact that my mind has changed with every passing day. The joke has been, 'Well, today is (insert day) we'll see where you are tomorrow". The implication was that I could not or would not focus on one thing.
For me, it wasn't the idea that I had no focus but more the idea that every choice led to a path I wanted desperately to walk and so I tried each one on for size. Its like being a kid in a candy store. So much. So much choice. How could I possibly choose just one? Its been fun. Its been exciting and its been very exhausting. I've had to let go of the person who held a rigid view of what must be done in favor of the person who allowed things to unfold in due time. It is far easier said than done, but so far an extremely rewarding experience.
I've been berating myself for having such a complete and total lack of commitment to anything. But I understand that it is a necessary approach. When I was younger, it was far easier to walk away from something that didn't speak to some higher part of myself (though I didn't know it at the time) and yet, I as grew older, that very same attribute became a cause for concern. Did I walk away because there was something better out there or, more importantly, because it did not speak to my core?
As I try new experiences to see how they fit, I am finding that there are elements of each that truly speak to who I am. I love discovering that about me. I've not walked away from much, mainly just in my head because I have an issue with people who fall through on their commitments. If I commit to something, I do it. If it doesn't work, for any number of reasons, then I find a way to extricate myself without it being a problem for another. This works pretty well, except of course in a relationship, that one is far more difficult, but not impossible.
There is so much more I want to do and experience but I am becoming aware that the reason for the lack of commitment to any one thing is because there is a lack of focus to any one thing. My biggest concern has been whether or not something or someone is right for me because I don’t want to make a mistake. But I am learning that there are no mistakes. There is no right or wrong therefore it doesn't really matter. There is only how I feel about something and that lets me know whether or not I want to focus on it.
The one constant in my life, regardless of the many things I've been involved with, is my writing. That has been my driver. That is where my heart is. Everything else I do, I do because I love the idea of meeting new people, having completely different and foreign experiences and knowing that each one of them is allowing me to have a better understanding of how I relate to my world. I’ve come away from these experiences knowing myself a little bit better. This allows me to be comfortable with who I am and will eventually lead to a more focused path where I can put most of my energy in continuing to create a life I am truly enjoying.
But in the past six months, there has been no understanding of where I was at any given moment. Those who know me well can attest to the fact that my mind has changed with every passing day. The joke has been, 'Well, today is (insert day) we'll see where you are tomorrow". The implication was that I could not or would not focus on one thing.
For me, it wasn't the idea that I had no focus but more the idea that every choice led to a path I wanted desperately to walk and so I tried each one on for size. Its like being a kid in a candy store. So much. So much choice. How could I possibly choose just one? Its been fun. Its been exciting and its been very exhausting. I've had to let go of the person who held a rigid view of what must be done in favor of the person who allowed things to unfold in due time. It is far easier said than done, but so far an extremely rewarding experience.
I've been berating myself for having such a complete and total lack of commitment to anything. But I understand that it is a necessary approach. When I was younger, it was far easier to walk away from something that didn't speak to some higher part of myself (though I didn't know it at the time) and yet, I as grew older, that very same attribute became a cause for concern. Did I walk away because there was something better out there or, more importantly, because it did not speak to my core?
As I try new experiences to see how they fit, I am finding that there are elements of each that truly speak to who I am. I love discovering that about me. I've not walked away from much, mainly just in my head because I have an issue with people who fall through on their commitments. If I commit to something, I do it. If it doesn't work, for any number of reasons, then I find a way to extricate myself without it being a problem for another. This works pretty well, except of course in a relationship, that one is far more difficult, but not impossible.
There is so much more I want to do and experience but I am becoming aware that the reason for the lack of commitment to any one thing is because there is a lack of focus to any one thing. My biggest concern has been whether or not something or someone is right for me because I don’t want to make a mistake. But I am learning that there are no mistakes. There is no right or wrong therefore it doesn't really matter. There is only how I feel about something and that lets me know whether or not I want to focus on it.
The one constant in my life, regardless of the many things I've been involved with, is my writing. That has been my driver. That is where my heart is. Everything else I do, I do because I love the idea of meeting new people, having completely different and foreign experiences and knowing that each one of them is allowing me to have a better understanding of how I relate to my world. I’ve come away from these experiences knowing myself a little bit better. This allows me to be comfortable with who I am and will eventually lead to a more focused path where I can put most of my energy in continuing to create a life I am truly enjoying.
Monday, July 7, 2008
The Chipmucks Are Running Amuck
My mornings here begin pretty much the same as most mornings will when you have a routine.
I walk my dog, a 4lb 13oz Yorkie named Zia, whom I love to pieces. Being a ratter by breed, Zia preference for the outdoors is less a call of nature than the possiblity of chasing chipmunks into New Hampshire. For a number of reasons, I don't let her out without being secured by a leash. Following her instincts she could disappear for hours on a quest for her holy grail.
Chipmunk stew.
Zia is 9 now, but as a pup, I learned very quickly that you do not leave a tiny dog unattended outside in Vermont. The summer she was 2, she vanished into the foliage for over 3 hours (undoubtedly to chase a chipmunk) just as I was about to head back home to NYC. Heart racing over the fact that I'd lost her, I choked back tears at the thought that I might have to abandon her to the woods, or worst yet, her fate on Rte 100.
Out of desperation I rattled a box of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish (her favorite treat at the time) up an down my road. That did the trick. It turned out she was just a few yards away but because of her coloring she blended with her surroundings. She was so engrossed in the smells found in the woods that I ceased to exist. (She now has a bell on her harness so that if I can't see her, at least I can hear where she is).
Chipmunks run around my property like tiny blurs streaking across the patio. They will come up to my sliding doors and stand on the top step and squeak. Zia goes berserk. She will stand there for hours and bark out of frustration that she cannot get at her prize on the other side of the screen door, a mere foot away.
This morning I wondered whether I was protecting the chipmunks or her. I don't relish seeing chipmunk guts on my pavers, and though it is her instinct to try, I don't believe for one minute she'd ever actually catch one. I am really protecting her and that can only be done if I take away her ability to do what she was born to do.
How many times do we not allow someone to follow their instinct in the name of protection? We do that with children so that they will learn enough to function without us. But what about as adults? How often do we ask, or demand that someone not be who they are? Are we protecting them or the relationship?
When we are involved with someone who is vastly different from who we are, we have a tendency to try to change them in order to have them fit with how we live thereby 'protecting' our existence. Most of the time it isn't even obvious, but since we think our way is better, it stands to reason that we will subtly and sometimes unknowingly try to influence the behavior of another. It is usually reinforced, not by what we 'allow' them to do (because we are so understanding), but what we suggest they 'don't'.
The true courage of love is our ability to allow a person to be who and what they are without judgement. Our need to protect ourselves cannot be a part of it. Only when we allow another their mistakes can we be free to make the decision as to whether or not a relationship can grow. Unlike a 4lb dog, emotionally or spiritually tethering someone for our own purposes will destroy their core.
The chipmunks in our lives appear continuously and in varied ways. Only the individual can determine whether they are worth chasing.
I walk my dog, a 4lb 13oz Yorkie named Zia, whom I love to pieces. Being a ratter by breed, Zia preference for the outdoors is less a call of nature than the possiblity of chasing chipmunks into New Hampshire. For a number of reasons, I don't let her out without being secured by a leash. Following her instincts she could disappear for hours on a quest for her holy grail.
Chipmunk stew.
Zia is 9 now, but as a pup, I learned very quickly that you do not leave a tiny dog unattended outside in Vermont. The summer she was 2, she vanished into the foliage for over 3 hours (undoubtedly to chase a chipmunk) just as I was about to head back home to NYC. Heart racing over the fact that I'd lost her, I choked back tears at the thought that I might have to abandon her to the woods, or worst yet, her fate on Rte 100.
Out of desperation I rattled a box of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish (her favorite treat at the time) up an down my road. That did the trick. It turned out she was just a few yards away but because of her coloring she blended with her surroundings. She was so engrossed in the smells found in the woods that I ceased to exist. (She now has a bell on her harness so that if I can't see her, at least I can hear where she is).
Chipmunks run around my property like tiny blurs streaking across the patio. They will come up to my sliding doors and stand on the top step and squeak. Zia goes berserk. She will stand there for hours and bark out of frustration that she cannot get at her prize on the other side of the screen door, a mere foot away.
This morning I wondered whether I was protecting the chipmunks or her. I don't relish seeing chipmunk guts on my pavers, and though it is her instinct to try, I don't believe for one minute she'd ever actually catch one. I am really protecting her and that can only be done if I take away her ability to do what she was born to do.
How many times do we not allow someone to follow their instinct in the name of protection? We do that with children so that they will learn enough to function without us. But what about as adults? How often do we ask, or demand that someone not be who they are? Are we protecting them or the relationship?
When we are involved with someone who is vastly different from who we are, we have a tendency to try to change them in order to have them fit with how we live thereby 'protecting' our existence. Most of the time it isn't even obvious, but since we think our way is better, it stands to reason that we will subtly and sometimes unknowingly try to influence the behavior of another. It is usually reinforced, not by what we 'allow' them to do (because we are so understanding), but what we suggest they 'don't'.
The true courage of love is our ability to allow a person to be who and what they are without judgement. Our need to protect ourselves cannot be a part of it. Only when we allow another their mistakes can we be free to make the decision as to whether or not a relationship can grow. Unlike a 4lb dog, emotionally or spiritually tethering someone for our own purposes will destroy their core.
The chipmunks in our lives appear continuously and in varied ways. Only the individual can determine whether they are worth chasing.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
A Twist in the Road
I never thought to use this blog to make announcements about what is really going on in my life. As I continue on my journey, both spiritual and otherwise, the decisions that are being required of me seem to have an outcome far different than that which I anticipated.
What got me here? Well, for starters the many decisions that I've made to this point. The most interesting thing I've found is that my choices to end or initiate events in my life, are taking on a life of their own.
The quickest way between 2 points is not necessarily a straight line. Sometime the detour takes you so far off course that you begin to believe you've lost your way. But here is the underlying truth. The adventure can only begin when you've veered off your course.
The past year has been a year of endings for me and with each one, there has been zero remorse. Some confusion...OK, a lot of confusion (left brain syndrome at work) but zero remorse.
One of those endings occurred on Thursday, July 3rd. I closed on the sale of my beloved bookstore. I thought I'd have mixed feelings about it given that I built it from my heart but the truth is...as with every relationship...if it cannot grow, it will die.
I chose to let it go because I knew that I could not take it to the next level in order for it to flourish to its full potential. It is now in the hands of a fabulous couple who will love it and nurture it as I have since inception. Again, because of who has chosen to committ themselves, I can, as any proud parent would, let it go because it was time.
Zero remorse.
This leads to the next chapter of my life which is still being written. A friend who owns the pub I frequent (not much else to do around here) was concerned that now I would have way too much time on my hands. She asked me if I would consider bartending one night a week. I know NOTHING about the bar biz except which stool to sit on when ordering my beer so the idea that I would be suited to do this was ridiculous. I was urged to give it a shot...I look at it as keeping me off the streets one night a week.
Since I am a very social person and love the idea of being around people and the party atmosphere I thought...Well, Why not? It might be fun.
So last night was training day one. I got the beer bottles opened pretty quickly. I still can't pour a draft beer without 4" of foam...but that is not bad given that it was 6" the first time. Maybe by the end of tonight I'll get it down the perferable 3/4". Time will tell.
It was a lot of fun. It was INSANELY hard work. Hey you guys...tip your barkeeps well, because you have NO idea what goes on behind the bar to make it function seamlessly. I was probably more in the way than helpful at the beginning of the evening..but that did change as the night progressed. To say I was overwhelmed would be the understatement of the year. This is trial by fire...there is no other way. As in my old career, you can only learn as you do and the mistakes are the most valuable lessons.
So here I find myself, with a completely unexpected turn in the road which I have taken just to see where it leads. Sometimes its best to leave the GPS at home.
What got me here? Well, for starters the many decisions that I've made to this point. The most interesting thing I've found is that my choices to end or initiate events in my life, are taking on a life of their own.
The quickest way between 2 points is not necessarily a straight line. Sometime the detour takes you so far off course that you begin to believe you've lost your way. But here is the underlying truth. The adventure can only begin when you've veered off your course.
The past year has been a year of endings for me and with each one, there has been zero remorse. Some confusion...OK, a lot of confusion (left brain syndrome at work) but zero remorse.
One of those endings occurred on Thursday, July 3rd. I closed on the sale of my beloved bookstore. I thought I'd have mixed feelings about it given that I built it from my heart but the truth is...as with every relationship...if it cannot grow, it will die.
I chose to let it go because I knew that I could not take it to the next level in order for it to flourish to its full potential. It is now in the hands of a fabulous couple who will love it and nurture it as I have since inception. Again, because of who has chosen to committ themselves, I can, as any proud parent would, let it go because it was time.
Zero remorse.
This leads to the next chapter of my life which is still being written. A friend who owns the pub I frequent (not much else to do around here) was concerned that now I would have way too much time on my hands. She asked me if I would consider bartending one night a week. I know NOTHING about the bar biz except which stool to sit on when ordering my beer so the idea that I would be suited to do this was ridiculous. I was urged to give it a shot...I look at it as keeping me off the streets one night a week.
Since I am a very social person and love the idea of being around people and the party atmosphere I thought...Well, Why not? It might be fun.
So last night was training day one. I got the beer bottles opened pretty quickly. I still can't pour a draft beer without 4" of foam...but that is not bad given that it was 6" the first time. Maybe by the end of tonight I'll get it down the perferable 3/4". Time will tell.
It was a lot of fun. It was INSANELY hard work. Hey you guys...tip your barkeeps well, because you have NO idea what goes on behind the bar to make it function seamlessly. I was probably more in the way than helpful at the beginning of the evening..but that did change as the night progressed. To say I was overwhelmed would be the understatement of the year. This is trial by fire...there is no other way. As in my old career, you can only learn as you do and the mistakes are the most valuable lessons.
So here I find myself, with a completely unexpected turn in the road which I have taken just to see where it leads. Sometimes its best to leave the GPS at home.
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