If I were a normal human being, I would have slept late on my day off.
I am not.
I kept my body up until after midnight, shoving in supports of pillows and cold water to boost my shoulders into an upright position. On the plus side, I had on cute shoes, I was showered and I made it to the house of friends who fed me all things delicious.
On the slippery slope side, I woke up to the dark.
Sleep and making more than breaking even have become my abacus of success. I count minutes and pennies. If I can keep both above sea level, the day is a success.
I have no salads yet, no hot food, a baked goods selection that could resemble war time and professional attire that is an embarrassment to cooks everywhere. My son has not had any other vegetable except broccoli for the past two weeks–the last time I bought a 5 pound bag of it a Costco and threw it in the cart with 12 dozen eggs, 25 pounds of butter, turkeys, bottles of bleach, and a 6 pound bag of pistachios. But everything is labeled and dated in the refrigerator, there are paper towels at every sink station with in 20 feet of every food prep station, my rinse cycle is above 168 degrees for three minutes, I have mastered 2 minute frittatas in the oven to serve on a Saturday, and I serve the best scone in the neighborhood. From the deep down depths of my heart it never fails to make me happy when people like what they eat. That’s what makes it worth it.
The plan for the next few weeks:
close on Sundays
open for extended hours, at first just on Wednesdays and Thursdays for a Supper Club. One delicious menu that changes each night, one seating, plus take out.

Better socks.

Happy New Year xo