I'm a zombie.
A zombie who bakes.
A quick run-down of every shift, shall we?
8pm: Arrive.
8-2am: Fight the goddamn pastry sheeter, laminating dough with butter. (Danish dough first, then croissant dough.)
2am-4am: Cut, fill and shape pastry/croissants, place in proofing box, proof.
4am-OHCHRISTIT'SALMOST6: Fill, bake, glaze and ice pastry, cool, wrap for delivery. Load my tiny car to the brim, go peeling out off to the cafe.
6:15-6:30am: Drive to cafe, swear at totes of pastry cascading around the back of my car. Haul pastry totes into cafe while morning girls watch.
7am: Go home, remove clothing, trailing Pig Pen like cloud of flour all the way to the shower.
7-7:30am: Stand in shower and make paste with all the flour on my body. Scrub, begin to feel the physical exertion of the evening.
7:30am-till some asshole calls: Sleep.
Then I dick around for a few hours, and nap till about 7pm.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Friday-Monday, people! I am SORE. My body no likey the lifty of the heavy.
I am totally panicked about having to do all this alone. I am not ready. I admitted as much to my boss last night, and he said, "It's ok. I'll train you until you're ready. I can tell you're the right person for this job."
It made me feel good, until the back pain started. (Leaning over a table rolling croissants=back evil.)
I'm off to taste wedding cake. (Just what I want to do--more pastry.)
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Sleep....
Can I mention how much 'fun' it is to totally re-do your sleep schedule? I have 2 days (one, now) to switch myself from getting up at 9am and going to bed between 11-2 to.....well, the opposite of that. Most nights I'm going to be getting done with work at 6-7am....It's great. I mean, really. Jet lag at home rocks.
So what have I been doing this long night, waiting to go pick up T?
Watching videos on the internet and alternately laughing and/or crying.
Such as:
"If more people had a duck...." Love it.
Baby kitten tummies get me every time.
Anyway.....it's been this and bad infomercials all night. Hooray.
So what have I been doing this long night, waiting to go pick up T?
Watching videos on the internet and alternately laughing and/or crying.
Such as:
"If more people had a duck...." Love it.
Baby kitten tummies get me every time.
Anyway.....it's been this and bad infomercials all night. Hooray.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Heavy Lifting
So last night was my first night at the bakery. I got the call at 4pm that I needed to be there at 8pm. I went home in the wee hours of the morning.
I'm working with two dudes. I can dig it. I'm not sure if they can...it was sort of hilarious.
It would seem that 12 people have started in my position, and all of them have quit after one day. They were very concerned that I wouldn't be coming back--lots of "If you want to come back on Friday...." "If, after that, you still want to work here..."
Uhm....I'm good. I can lift 75 pounds of dough. I can fight with the goddamn pastry sheeter. (PAIN IN THE ASS!) For all of you that don't know what a pastry sheeter is, it's like a giant pasta machine, only rather than rolling pasta it rolls pastry. It's huge, it's noisy, this specific one breaks on a regular basis. (6 times while I was there.) I can measure, I can cut, I can mix, I can do origami, I can freeze and proof and fill and bake. It's fine.
The manager person told me that it's obvious that I have baking talent, that it shows that I am not clueless, and that this is a good thing.
So I go back on Friday. Hopefully I get more sleep.
When I got home this morning, I had flour all over my body. My face, my hair, my skin, my clothes...I dusted about 1/4 cup out of my bra when I got in the shower.
My car, which has black upholstery, has a white butt-print in it.
Anyway.....it's ok. I think it will be fine after I get my sleep schedule readjusted.
I'm working with two dudes. I can dig it. I'm not sure if they can...it was sort of hilarious.
It would seem that 12 people have started in my position, and all of them have quit after one day. They were very concerned that I wouldn't be coming back--lots of "If you want to come back on Friday...." "If, after that, you still want to work here..."
Uhm....I'm good. I can lift 75 pounds of dough. I can fight with the goddamn pastry sheeter. (PAIN IN THE ASS!) For all of you that don't know what a pastry sheeter is, it's like a giant pasta machine, only rather than rolling pasta it rolls pastry. It's huge, it's noisy, this specific one breaks on a regular basis. (6 times while I was there.) I can measure, I can cut, I can mix, I can do origami, I can freeze and proof and fill and bake. It's fine.
The manager person told me that it's obvious that I have baking talent, that it shows that I am not clueless, and that this is a good thing.
So I go back on Friday. Hopefully I get more sleep.
When I got home this morning, I had flour all over my body. My face, my hair, my skin, my clothes...I dusted about 1/4 cup out of my bra when I got in the shower.
My car, which has black upholstery, has a white butt-print in it.
Anyway.....it's ok. I think it will be fine after I get my sleep schedule readjusted.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Fruition
So...
You know how I keep talking about going to school, to finally see through my vision and long term goal of becoming a pastry chef?
You know how there is a much better (in all ways) option than culinary arts school, but that I felt like my chances of attaining that option were slim to less than none?
I, well, I kinda sorta did it.
I got a pastry apprenticeship. I start ASAP.
I'm terrified, I'm excited, I'm nervous, I'm thrilled to no end. Mostly I'm scared that I'll fuck it up somehow, and my life's dream will be dashed and I will forever have no one but myself to blame.
You know how I keep talking about going to school, to finally see through my vision and long term goal of becoming a pastry chef?
You know how there is a much better (in all ways) option than culinary arts school, but that I felt like my chances of attaining that option were slim to less than none?
I, well, I kinda sorta did it.
I got a pastry apprenticeship. I start ASAP.
I'm terrified, I'm excited, I'm nervous, I'm thrilled to no end. Mostly I'm scared that I'll fuck it up somehow, and my life's dream will be dashed and I will forever have no one but myself to blame.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Love
I've been thinking a lot lately about weddings, and love.
Not just because I'm getting married and Valentines day is right around the corner, bullshit holiday that it is.
No, I've been thinking about Prop. 8. About how religion hates them the gay for the most part.
About how the Catholics have made me feel like a complete piece of shit for not being one of 'them' during my pre-wedding stuff with T, but that they are still willing to grit their teeth and marry us...because I am a woman and T is a man.
I cannot imagine the pain, the rage I would feel if someone, any one--especially a government told me that I could not be granted marriage to T. Just feeling unaccepted, frowned upon and generally not approved of by T's church has been painful enough, but to be told that our love was unnatural, unworthy, illegal? I simply cannot imagine.
Everyone reading this--imagine it. Take your spouse, your lover, and the feelings you have for them and think about what it would be like to be told that those feelings were wrong, illegal, and immoral. To be told that your government would throw up road blocks and red tape in every way possible to keep your love hidden.
Love, between consenting adults, cannot be wrong. Hearts don't lie. Families are made, partners are found.
Love is the only holy thing I need in my life. To strip someone of that ability to love and be loved is a crime.
The first same-sex couple that was married in San Fransisco were two women named Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon. They had been together for almost 60 years when they wed. Think about that! 60 YEARS.
Del passed away shortly after her marriage--but she died a wife. She died before Ken Starr and the state of California decided that those 60 years didn't count. Which very well may have been a blessing, as sad and horrible a thing that is to say.
I can only hope that T and I will be together, as in love as we are today, in 60 years. That all of us who are married, will be married, will be that happy and in love. Mrs. Martin and Lyon should be an inspiration to everyone with love in their hearts.
Not just because I'm getting married and Valentines day is right around the corner, bullshit holiday that it is.
No, I've been thinking about Prop. 8. About how religion hates them the gay for the most part.
About how the Catholics have made me feel like a complete piece of shit for not being one of 'them' during my pre-wedding stuff with T, but that they are still willing to grit their teeth and marry us...because I am a woman and T is a man.
I cannot imagine the pain, the rage I would feel if someone, any one--especially a government told me that I could not be granted marriage to T. Just feeling unaccepted, frowned upon and generally not approved of by T's church has been painful enough, but to be told that our love was unnatural, unworthy, illegal? I simply cannot imagine.
Everyone reading this--imagine it. Take your spouse, your lover, and the feelings you have for them and think about what it would be like to be told that those feelings were wrong, illegal, and immoral. To be told that your government would throw up road blocks and red tape in every way possible to keep your love hidden.
Love, between consenting adults, cannot be wrong. Hearts don't lie. Families are made, partners are found.
Love is the only holy thing I need in my life. To strip someone of that ability to love and be loved is a crime.
The first same-sex couple that was married in San Fransisco were two women named Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon. They had been together for almost 60 years when they wed. Think about that! 60 YEARS.
Del passed away shortly after her marriage--but she died a wife. She died before Ken Starr and the state of California decided that those 60 years didn't count. Which very well may have been a blessing, as sad and horrible a thing that is to say.
I can only hope that T and I will be together, as in love as we are today, in 60 years. That all of us who are married, will be married, will be that happy and in love. Mrs. Martin and Lyon should be an inspiration to everyone with love in their hearts.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Twilight
Today was my first 'day' at my new job.
......Yeah.
The cafe/bakery/whatever I will be working in here isn't open yet, so I have to travel an hour each way to be trained at the location that is open in a town south of here.
This means, in reality, that I am commuting 2 hours total to be trained to work in a restaurant that I won't be working in. If that makes sense. Nothing will be in the same places, there's different storage methods, different menu items.
Doesn't make a ton of sense to me, but whatever.
So I got up this morning at the CRACK, and had T drive me down to work (T got off of work when I woke up, so rather than sleep he drove me because he likes my being alive and my night blindness makes death a real possibility)where I walked in and realized several things:
1)My boss has no sense of humor.
2)My boss isn't a really nice person.
3)My boss thinks I'm a moron, and apparently didn't read my resume when she hired me.
4)#3 is possible because the other employees (whom I have met, there are plenty I have not) are very young, very immature and very....less than smart.
After my boss 'trained' me my saying things like 'This is a cold case! It keeps things cold! This is a coffee maker! It makes coffee!' and then said I smelled and had me sign a personality quiz that basically held me to my word about being a nice person, she left me with a nice girl who has worked her way up to the coveted position of weekday opener.
This girl just turned 21, loves the Twilight series, her boyfriend, and, apparently, text messaging.
She also found out that I will be 27 next month and said, "All the girls from the new store are old! Like, one is almost 30!"
Sigh.
Then her friend/coworker showed up and the two of them stood there and texted and laughed and didn't do anything while I did everything, which, while a good way to be trained, wasn't my favorite. Then I was informed that I would not be receiving tips for my work that day, drank a cup of coffee and lamented the fact that I CANNOT SMOKE while working.
Finally, when my shift was over, T picked me up and I came home and took an amazing and super intense nap.
I'm not feeling worse about the job....but not any better, either.
......Yeah.
The cafe/bakery/whatever I will be working in here isn't open yet, so I have to travel an hour each way to be trained at the location that is open in a town south of here.
This means, in reality, that I am commuting 2 hours total to be trained to work in a restaurant that I won't be working in. If that makes sense. Nothing will be in the same places, there's different storage methods, different menu items.
Doesn't make a ton of sense to me, but whatever.
So I got up this morning at the CRACK, and had T drive me down to work (T got off of work when I woke up, so rather than sleep he drove me because he likes my being alive and my night blindness makes death a real possibility)where I walked in and realized several things:
1)My boss has no sense of humor.
2)My boss isn't a really nice person.
3)My boss thinks I'm a moron, and apparently didn't read my resume when she hired me.
4)#3 is possible because the other employees (whom I have met, there are plenty I have not) are very young, very immature and very....less than smart.
After my boss 'trained' me my saying things like 'This is a cold case! It keeps things cold! This is a coffee maker! It makes coffee!' and then said I smelled and had me sign a personality quiz that basically held me to my word about being a nice person, she left me with a nice girl who has worked her way up to the coveted position of weekday opener.
This girl just turned 21, loves the Twilight series, her boyfriend, and, apparently, text messaging.
She also found out that I will be 27 next month and said, "All the girls from the new store are old! Like, one is almost 30!"
Sigh.
Then her friend/coworker showed up and the two of them stood there and texted and laughed and didn't do anything while I did everything, which, while a good way to be trained, wasn't my favorite. Then I was informed that I would not be receiving tips for my work that day, drank a cup of coffee and lamented the fact that I CANNOT SMOKE while working.
Finally, when my shift was over, T picked me up and I came home and took an amazing and super intense nap.
I'm not feeling worse about the job....but not any better, either.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
At All Things....
I suck.
I have no real reason to be blogging--sure, some funny/interesting/I'm entertained so of course you are too stuff happened, but I have no real drive to share it.
I went to my HOA meeting today and watched old people sling mud and name call for 6 hours. (I left early.) I got a lot of knitting done, at least.
I fell victim to what knitters refer to as 'stash enhancement', where you make several mistakes that all lead down the same slippery slope.
1)Go into a yarn store with no real mission in mind--browsing. Danger.
2)Have debit/credit card on person while browsing.
3)Do not bring logical person (i.e. Husband, etc) along to be the voice of reason.
1+2+3=I have a years worth of yarn at my house (at least), more came in the mail today, I bought some yesterday AND I spent $more than I would like to admit today.
NO MORE YARN. NO! No more yarn for me. Period. I have to be down to 1 (!!) skein of sock yarn before I purchase more. SO THERE. (Any bets on how long this lasts before I cave? I mean, really.)
I took part in a Ravelry swap, and my package arrived today. Getting things in the mail is nice.
I'm going to use that as an opportunity to let miss Circe know that her package will be mailed this Monday, hopefully. So long as I don't wander into any yarn stores on my way to the post orifice everything should be ok.
Also, go here. Then go here.
You now have enough time wasting ability to last you forever. You're welcome.
I have no real reason to be blogging--sure, some funny/interesting/I'm entertained so of course you are too stuff happened, but I have no real drive to share it.
I went to my HOA meeting today and watched old people sling mud and name call for 6 hours. (I left early.) I got a lot of knitting done, at least.
I fell victim to what knitters refer to as 'stash enhancement', where you make several mistakes that all lead down the same slippery slope.
1)Go into a yarn store with no real mission in mind--browsing. Danger.
2)Have debit/credit card on person while browsing.
3)Do not bring logical person (i.e. Husband, etc) along to be the voice of reason.
1+2+3=I have a years worth of yarn at my house (at least), more came in the mail today, I bought some yesterday AND I spent $more than I would like to admit today.
NO MORE YARN. NO! No more yarn for me. Period. I have to be down to 1 (!!) skein of sock yarn before I purchase more. SO THERE. (Any bets on how long this lasts before I cave? I mean, really.)
I took part in a Ravelry swap, and my package arrived today. Getting things in the mail is nice.
I'm going to use that as an opportunity to let miss Circe know that her package will be mailed this Monday, hopefully. So long as I don't wander into any yarn stores on my way to the post orifice everything should be ok.
Also, go here. Then go here.
You now have enough time wasting ability to last you forever. You're welcome.
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