Don’t Call It A Comeback

…just call it the second fermentation in my bubbly bottle of life.

This blog holds me accountable to several life pursuits so that I stop saying “I should…” and start saying “I do…” and “I am…” It’s entirely selfish. I’m NOT a chef. I know very little (currently) about the infinite world of food. I’m not interested in being the next Julie or Julia. I’m not concerned with revealing secrets about the culinary underwhatever. I like to observe and write, so that’s what I’m doing.

Consider yourself warned.

So why am I writing this blog and how is food involved? And how is this my comeback? And why the hell should you care?

Like every other person who has, does, or will breathe, my personal and professional course has ebbed and flowed in very predictable and utterly surprising ways. Relationships have launched, careers have broken up…same as everyone.

But the one thing that has been a constant for me through the good times and the bad has been food. Food has played a creepy, stalker-yet-savior-like role in my life.

No, I don’t, nor have I ever, had an eating disorder in either direction. I was one of the few dedicated dancers in my peer group who ate for fuel, occasionally for fun, but never too much or too little. My porridge was just right.

Food has been my fertilizer and cement. A cup of tea was the bridge for my mother and me to stand on when tackling some very heavy issues during her challenged, inspiring life; Bison French Onion Dip and Lay’s Classic Potato Chips were our confetti when celebrating silly, giggly time together. My first sip of coffee is always the gun shot that starts the race of my day. The conversation, creation, and selling of food has aided in my financial and emotional recovery the past two years.

My actions (some deliberate, some unintentional) continue to trip and propel me. What seems glaringly obvious to me at this moment is that, like on so many occasions in the past, I do best when I pay attention to the signs that are showing up in order to make my next move make sense. And, well, food appears to be my access to a next step to something interesting, something I could be proud of sharing and developing, whatever that might be.

So why the hell should you care? That’s up to you. Maybe you’re a voyeur. Or bored. Or have a relationship with food similar to mine. I’ve witnessed some interesting stuff around the art and science of food, the humility and ego that it breeds within the population who provide it, and also have come to realize that food presents itself in a myriad of ways physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. So maybe that works for you.

What I do know is that I’m a tad nervous about this journey, excited by the thrill, nauseous about the “What ifs…”

I think I should eat something.


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6 thoughts on “Don’t Call It A Comeback

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