What other job lets me wear no shoes,
crawl on furniture and get paid?
Sometimes I try to justify my job. Sometimes I make fun of it.
Sometimes I just smile and puzzle at what led me to be on a plane flying to Maine to meet my work/home at the age of almost 50 to live with and cook for people I did not know a year ago, (except one of course).
And sometimes I feel guilty that I have a job that I enjoy, that pays me well enough to live debt free and dream of the new MacBook Pro. I know enough about the world to know that very few get to live in that reality.
It’s as if my mind enjoys ruminating, chewing on what I do, why I do it and how I could do it better. Most people do this right? Maybe, I don’t live in anybody else’s head but it seems a great deal of my mental energy is spent speculating on matters related to living and working on a 7 million dollar yacht, living with people who are not my family (that’s a good thing) and creating meals people enjoy. How did I end up here? How did I get such good?
I often attempt to justify doing a job that can be said to have limited redeeming value. It’s not about saving the world, helping persons in need or providing a service no one else can – I mean I cook, I clean, I cook, I clean. Sometimes I feel guilty about doing something that I love; the guilt passes quickly, if not me who?
Right now, I’m awed that I get paid to travel around and take care of people – perfect job for a traveling hound codependent. Who ever said codependency is bad thing?
“My life in France by Julia Child” was my audio book de jour as I whipped up dinner. The book’s focus is on her memories of moving to France with her husband who was in the State Department, her discovery of cooking a la francaise and the development of her two initial mastery works. What a personality and what commitment. Her reminisces are a delightful and immensely encouraging. She admits to her continual practice that was certainly not always perfect. She also empathetically states that a cook should NEVER apologize for her efforts even if she realizes it’s less than her best. This I try to remember as I know I’m harder on myself than anyone else ever would be. On the edges of her story are political developments – McCarthyism (frightening) and cultural phenomenon – TV (perhaps more frightening?). What stoo d at the center of the oeuvre is her relationship with Paul Child her husband of so many years. It was truly a partnership of like minds and like loves. What a gift. I have a few DVDs of hers on reserve at my library. Do you know she could debone a chicken leaving it completely intact in less than 12 minutes? Now that’s something to see.
This date will live in infamy in my mind as this is the day when I launched into my new career. On 11 Nov 06, I received a phone call from a hither to stranger, Captain Robb Shannon. Little did I know that phone call would transform my existence as I knew it. Twenty four hours after hearing his voice for the first time, I would join Captain Robb Shannon on an adventure to Mexico. From the first day, after running into an anchor, getting sea sick and riding off into the Pacific Ocean life has never been the same. Change is scary but in a series of impulsive moments I took the plunge and I’m living on the water. I dreamed about it before but never imagined it would come to fruition. It’s not a perfect life, no life is, but it is stunning.