One Girl, 10 Knives and a Dream

The last three weeks have been a tornado of emotions. After much back and forth, nervous anticipation and a bout of stress-induced acne, I got the word:

Yes, I’m going to culinary school.

On Thursday, I paid my tuition and ordered my kitchen-safe 1990’s raver flashback shoes.


I was buoyant the rest of the week and over the weekend – I could barely sit still at work. I told everyone I saw.

Monday morning, I began to realize the implications of what I’ve done. These next 22 weeks will not be easy. There will be six hours of daily cooking, four hours each day at my regular job, homework and I will somehow have to fit in yoga. There’s a lot of moving parts – clothing for these three distinct daily activities, questions about when I will have time eat and fears regarding my required daily sleep allotment.

Finances will be tight. I will probably have to cancel my house-cleaning service (when will I have time to clean), should most likely cancel my lawn service (I don’t even own a lawn mower) and it would help to cancel cable (can I live on Netflix alone?).

Can I do this? Am I too old for this? I don’t know…but I want to try.

This blog has always been about my random thoughts. I’d like to start using it to chronicle my experience as a culinary school student. School starts in 13 days. Stay tuned.


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