This post was not supposed to read this way. It was something else entirely….fun light yummy deliciousness.
And then life happened and I found out that I lost my job on Tuesday. To clarify I didn’t misplace it, but the charity I work/ed* for ran out of money and just plain old can’t afford me anymore. I’m good at what I do; unfortunately I am not a successful fundraiser. I’d seen this coming at me for months, but it still managed to surprise me. I thrive on change, but like to “ostrich” and just stay comfortable.
So, the timing ain’t good. I can’t see when it would ever be good really. There’s this wedding thing happening.
However, one thing I loved about where I work/ed, was that I developed a very healthy dose of perspective. I am enormously blessed* to have an incredibly supportive set of friends and family. We are lucky enough to live at home with the boy’s parents, which is a huge worry that we don’t have to deal with. And I’m happy to live in a country where we are socialist enough to give people security nets in the form of employment insurance.
So that baking story. I tried to replicate an AMAZING pie that my talented friend Carolina made for New Year’s (and yes I’m still thinking about it) and it failed miserably. It was supposed to have a light as air, crunchy and sweet meringue pie shell, filled with chocolate mousse and topped with Chantilly whipped cream (which I learned is a fancy name for whipped cream that has vanilla added and sweetened). It was called a Chocolate Angel Pie.
And the shells turned out disastrously.
So when faced with a baking disaster, I whipped up a trifle. We were heading to dinner at a friend’s place and I played on her addiction to all things mint and chocolate and improvised on an Eton’s mess. I threw together layers of crumbled meringue, Chantilly cream, strawberries and raspberries and a layer of leftover brownies that I soaked in crème de menthe. It was really yummy and was a delightful surprise ending to my failed pies. We ate it up gladly.
So here’s my poor metaphor. Life is like a trifle. You make plans, and things get messed up, and then something wonderful emerges from the wreck.
I know its clichéd, but I’m ready for the next adventure. I swing between terrified and excited. I have a few leads I’m hunting down and am so grateful for a chance to perhaps figure out some bigger stuff I’ve been wrestling with. I truly believe things happen in a natural unfolding, and life has been very kind to me so far, especially when I listen to my gut and just go for it.
Last week I was feeling blue one night and was walking along worried about what came next. Then I caught myself impulsively jumping in a puddle* and started grinning wide. I have big red boots. How can I NOT jump in puddles? They make such a lovely splash.
I was filled with complete joy at the sheer silliness. And moments like that let me know I’m going to be just fine.
* my last day is Monday the 23rd
*in a strictly non bearded old dude, but rather the universe is love, hippity dippity sort of way
* yes this was in public. And yes I’m 30 And no, miraculously I didn’t catch any poor unsuspecting fool in the spray. This time anyways, I’m pretty sure I’ve pissed the boy of royally by doing that to him at least once.