Culinary School: A Grande Finale

And so it seems I’ve finished my third term at the Midwest Culinary Institute. And now I’m sitting at home feeling a tinge of whiplash.

It’s funny the way time moves. You don’t notice when it’s happening but all of a sudden you look across the room. The chair you have always known has changed neighborhoods three times since you bought in the thrift store, virtually weaseled it out of someone’s hands who didn’t know it was a vintage Eames.

All the junk that bothers you, that’s not put in its place—the shoes hastily thrown in the corner. The mail that got dropped from the table. The empty coffee cups on the sink. Suddenly you let yourself realize that it’s the stuff that you’ve built your life around. And then suddenly it’s not junk anymore.

All the hurried decisions, the hasty directions. You pick up on a whim. You decide to see it through. You throw caution to the wind. The people around you make concessions. They concede to pick up on your whim. They concede to see it through with you.

And then you look around again. And when you chose to really look, you see that everyone else is doing the same thing. They’re just waiting. Waiting to jump the next hurdle. Waiting to be inspired. Waiting to be surprised.

Someone once told me that you should be able to pack everything you love into your car. I’m wondering if they were wrong. I’m wondering if you should be able to pack everything you love into your week.

Tagged as: cincinnati state, Culinary School, midwest culinary institute