Carbonara Dreams

Seems I can’t get it together to do much blogging now that I’m back in the kitchen. Working nights means I have the luxury of sleeping in every morning, and I’ve been taking full advantage of it. Each night, while enjoying a cold hoppy beverage, I prepare dutiful lists of projects to accomplish the next morning, only to find myself waking up at noon and barely making it out the door with pants on. And the dreams – endless hours of making pasta while I sleep. The worst dream is the one where I show up at work late, don’t do any prep, and the orders start flying in. Only I have no mise en place! No tomatoes, no garlic, nothing. I run about madly while the tickets pile up and I contemplate just dashing out the door and never returning. I wake up in a cold sweat, locate my pants, and rush to work full of guilt for slacking off so badly in my sleep. Although my job is completely free of take-home stress I can’t seem to stop manufacturing my own.

Update on my left hand – still a claw, my ring finger now gets stuck in a bent position and I have to use my other hand to flip it back to straight. Ouch! The 22 year old guys I work with on the line don’t seem to have this problem. My only consolation is that based on our conversations I suspect I have a much richer inner life, and I don’t waste nearly as much time running out to the dining room to verify a rumor of “hot chick on table 8.”