The Lamination Chronicle

I should have named the blog that, though it's admittedly less Kosmic than the title I chose. Speaking of dharma, the Dalai Lama is in town this weekend, speaking publicly on Sunday. Am I going to hear his wisdom? ("Big hitter, the lama.") No. I'm getting a massage. So much for enlightenment.

More croissant compliments today, from Bossman as well as from some random guy who admired my lamination (his word, to one of the counter people, which means he must be in the food biz, because normal people don't think of lamination when they look at croissants). It's very strange, on so many levels: to know that I am making some of the finest croissants to be had in this hemisphere--or, hell, just in this city--and that I am making upwards of 3000 each week, by myself, but I must work extra jobs to make ends meet. There's something fundamentally wrong about that. Not for me, so much, because I can (perhaps should) do other, better-compensated work; I mean cosmically, really. Because being willing and able to do something like that, whether it's baking bread, or making croissants, or whatever, should be regarded as worthy and worthwhile. I'd argue that I bring more good to the world than many a zillion-dollar-a-year CEO, and I'd argue that my coworkers do likewise, and yet we're not the ones getting platinum parachutes even when we don't fire enough people to suit the shareholders. That is, it's not just me, it's also Phil and Johnnie who should be making a lot more.

Speaking of coworkers, yesterday Johnnie came out and tapped me on the shoulder, pointed across the bakery, then said, "Never mind." I was confused--until I looked down and saw a fudge rose on a cake scrap. (Johnnie knows of my love for the fudge frosting.) Then, at lunch time, I found a hunk of "lunch" sourdough bread, complete with butter, nestled next to my book and glasses, courtesy of Phil. (I've been helping him with his rolls a LOT lately.) And, really, I find it ironic that Artie--the person who least NEEDS help--is the one to whom NP has, de facto, been "assigned." Of course, that's partly because she's pretty useless except for greasing cake pans, arranging cookies in store pans, slicing and packaging rolls, putting liners in muffin pans and dropping muffin batter into the pans, and tasks like that. Bossman, Phil, and I are all swamped lately, especially me and Bossman.

Luckily, Bossman understands that I cannot afford to work at the bakery another day, that I need to earn the editing money. (My guess is that he feels slightly guilty for not paying me more.) And, really, I wouldn't care much if he didn't understand--or, rather, I'd be less willing to bust my ass for him if he didn't understand. I don't know what I'm going to do for the longer term, but i keep telling myself I don't need to deal with this problem until i get the divorce finalized, that I can't solve every problem at once.

My primary life motto is from Hunter Thompson: "When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro." I've lived by that motto for 40 years or so--consciously lived by it for more than 20 years. My secondary motto is from I don't remember whom, from the same quote-a-day calendar that offered up Hunter: "First this. Then that." And I decided that I needed to go to an assortment of medical professionals (which I've done, except for the mammogram, which I'll schedule soon), get results from various tests (for which I'm waiting), get a divorce, and THEN figure out what I'm going to do, job/life-wise.

Also: Larry, I love you, too, and I'm REALLY glad you played music last week. In public and with friends and such. You rock.