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Musings on natural gifts...1
I was born with the pastry gene.
I inherited it from my mother, who claimed that her mother had it in full measure, and could make a pie crust so light it would float out of your hands. This so intimidated my mother that she never created homemade pies--only store or frozen pies.
Now, I didn't wear red for about 30 years, because my mother was so beautiful in red, and her hair such a dark brown, I didn't think color could do anything for me at all. I hid in pastels until an experimental weekend, where I wore a fuchsia suit and was told I looked stunning, even when I felt like crap.
Lesson learned--I was a Winter like my mother, despite my comparatively lighter hair and stormy eyes. It does not automatically follow that my Mom has the pastry gene but never tried to fly on her own. But I suspect it is possible.
To continue. There are frustrations with the pastry gene for me. I specialize in two things--cookies (especially unusual holiday ones) and scones. People really enjoy them, and it's a gift I can save money for and make with joy. The past few years, I haven't done as many as I used to, because a) I lived somewhere with a gas oven, and they just aren't good for pastry, and b) my hands hurt when I used utensils, so I avoided cooking.
Then my sweetie got me a Kitchen-Aid for Christmas. I see possible pastry binges in my future. But there's a catch--I can make these dainties for friends, but I cannot eat them myself. I hoped that it would only be a temporary thing--we get my condition under control, I can eat refined carbs again, if in moderation. But it turns out refined carbs feed the disease...and the disease will lay in wait until a cure is found. It's not the end of the world, but it's hard to experiment with new recipes when you can't taste things.
I am seeking a career I can do to replace the RMT biz, since it doesn't look like I can keep it up. I love writing fiction, cooking, massage therapy (fixing sick people) and Xeriscaping. Three of those need hands, you'll notice...at least writing is possible with only voice, if harder in some ways. The the search begins for something I love enough to train for a few years, and do 20-30 hours a week, because there's no guarantee I can work a 40 hour week again.
And of course, I need to save 10 hours for writing. Natural gifts must be used--it adds order and balance to the universe.
This musing is K's fault--I gave![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
silona scones for her birthday, and he'd never had them before. Now, I think I've created a scones monster...
I inherited it from my mother, who claimed that her mother had it in full measure, and could make a pie crust so light it would float out of your hands. This so intimidated my mother that she never created homemade pies--only store or frozen pies.
Now, I didn't wear red for about 30 years, because my mother was so beautiful in red, and her hair such a dark brown, I didn't think color could do anything for me at all. I hid in pastels until an experimental weekend, where I wore a fuchsia suit and was told I looked stunning, even when I felt like crap.
Lesson learned--I was a Winter like my mother, despite my comparatively lighter hair and stormy eyes. It does not automatically follow that my Mom has the pastry gene but never tried to fly on her own. But I suspect it is possible.
To continue. There are frustrations with the pastry gene for me. I specialize in two things--cookies (especially unusual holiday ones) and scones. People really enjoy them, and it's a gift I can save money for and make with joy. The past few years, I haven't done as many as I used to, because a) I lived somewhere with a gas oven, and they just aren't good for pastry, and b) my hands hurt when I used utensils, so I avoided cooking.
Then my sweetie got me a Kitchen-Aid for Christmas. I see possible pastry binges in my future. But there's a catch--I can make these dainties for friends, but I cannot eat them myself. I hoped that it would only be a temporary thing--we get my condition under control, I can eat refined carbs again, if in moderation. But it turns out refined carbs feed the disease...and the disease will lay in wait until a cure is found. It's not the end of the world, but it's hard to experiment with new recipes when you can't taste things.
I am seeking a career I can do to replace the RMT biz, since it doesn't look like I can keep it up. I love writing fiction, cooking, massage therapy (fixing sick people) and Xeriscaping. Three of those need hands, you'll notice...at least writing is possible with only voice, if harder in some ways. The the search begins for something I love enough to train for a few years, and do 20-30 hours a week, because there's no guarantee I can work a 40 hour week again.
And of course, I need to save 10 hours for writing. Natural gifts must be used--it adds order and balance to the universe.
This musing is K's fault--I gave
silona scones for her birthday, and he'd never had them before. Now, I think I've created a scones monster...