today I am making notes and planning my first ‘coaching’ class thingy. and I’m doing some catering. and I’m making puff pastry.
And really, I’m having the best day. Up early after a long sleep, a good run, 5 minutes of meditation (that’s about how long i can tolerate sitting on the bathroom floor waiting for a miracle but instead thinking about fennel soup). then i had a long shower in the dark.
so i have this idea for the first class thingy, and i briefly run it past my husband.
I say: “It’s a 5-day class. Imagine you’re in a small town and too embarrassed to go to AA. Where else can you get anonymous one-on-one help? Imagine that you can’t even tell your doctor that you want to quit drinking. You can’t even tell your husband.”
My husband shrugs. Then we agree that he’s not an alcoholic and I go back to rolling out butter between two sheets of parchment paper for the puff pastry.
oh and it’s 33C at 12:30 pm. Look it up. that’s hot. and it’s not even the hottest part of the day yet.