A little history about me: I’m a lot like many of you. I work a nine-to-five job, live in a nice older home that needs a little work, drive an older, but still serviceable car, do the shopping, cooking, laundry, yard work. My husband was “asked” to retire early this year after more than 35 years on the job. Not a big financial hardship; we own what we have and we have enough. Owning your stuff is a fortunate thing, but it also breeds some discontent on my part. Where’s the drive, the desire, the need to go out and get more? I’ve worked full-time for over 30 years, plus part-time in college, and done what was expected: paid bills, saved money, started retirement funds. What I never found was something I wanted to do with a passion.
About two years ago, I purchased a three-pack of spiral notebooks. I needed one for a college Spanish course. The other two have been used for a variety notes, scribblings, drawings and doodles. There are a few magazine and newspaper articles pasted on random pages, and Post-It notes that flutter every time I open a notebook. These two notebooks, along with my collection of food magazines, cookbooks, recipe files, and two plastic milk crates filled with hanging files, are the Notes for My Next Life.
I don’t want to merely “go into the food business.” I want to jump on it, shake it up, rattle its cage, hold on for dear life and never let go. I’ve written my business plan, saved my money and worked in the industry, for money and as a volunteer, since college. I know the statistics: the failure rate for food businesses is ridiculous, and there are so many kids coming out of culinary school, toques on and diplomas in hand, looking to kick a middle-aged woman out of the way in the rush to the stove. But I can kick back and put up a good fight, too.
That’s the minimal outline, the basic plan. My next entries will concentrate on how I’m getting to my goal financially and how and where I’ve receive my culinary practice.