Desperate Measures

I left three messages for the recruiter calling about an admissions adviser position with Western Culinary Institute and then stopped calling because I worried that I was sounding desperate and pathetic. Which I probably was because I sort of am. But calls about jobs get my hopes up. And of course with all the time between my voicemails, I've convinced myself that the job is perfect for me. Really any job sounds wonderful so my perspective may be a little off but seriously, a cooking school? I could have lunch at their test kitchen everyday and entertain the visiting professors from Le Cordon Bleu's french headquarters and inherit somone's Le Creusset cast iron cookware when they have to move overseas, and you know, learn all kinds of cool cooking sorts of things. So really, perfect.

So tonight I sewed myself a sweater dress out of a thrifted men's sweater that's been sitting around for a while. I look much thinner in person, you'll have to take my word on it and our camera seems to be jammed between lens open and lens shut and refuses to take pictures. (Finn may or may not have been playing with it when this jamming occurred.) So the pictures aren't great because James used the video camera instead. But you know, you get the idea. I feel ready to take on a ski lodge or a fishing trip if I can get over the neck being so dang itchy.