Wrapping up... or just unfolding?

I’ve been told a lot of things.

I was told, before leaving Dublin, I should ‘sum up my carbohydrate stay in Ireland’. This came from my ma. I was also told, “Liz. Rap up the bread blog. I need closure.” This came from the mouth of a Bostonian, who went a little crazy upon the return to America, land of ignorance and potato chips. She revised her demand, “Wrap. But feel free to rap too.”

So I thought about summing up. And I’ve never been good at math. And it’s absolutely impossible to recount the carbohydrates I devoured in 5 months. But when you put it all together… it’s there… on my hips… and that’s about as ‘summed up’ as I can take.

So I then began thinking about rapping. And that thought quickly ended. I began with another thought, wrapping.

Tomorrow I have to go to work to wrap up cookies for the Cornell Commencement ceremony for the Architecture Department.

I realized something yesterday at work. At my work, there’s this big walk-in fridge, and there’s a big number 3 on the front of it. I don’t know what the 3 means. Maybe that’s how many bodies can fit inside. Or how many times my boss has yelled at me to put my shoes back on. But inside, is a metal shelving unit fully stocked with bread.

All sorts. Rye with seeds. Rye without seeds. Wheat without gluten. Multi-grain without calories… it’s a lot of variety. Which is one thing I have noticed about this glorious country I have lived in all my life. We have anything we could possibly want, in about 14 different flavors and colors.

And I just realized, this special number 3 fridge, is open to employees who are over-worked, under-fed, and in-between logical brain synapses. Because they have been assorting 2,400 forks into little baskets with napkins between them. Because for some reason, ALL of the Cornell students wanted to eat this weekend.
They’re so greedy sometimes.

As you can tell, I am very pleased to be back in the working world. But back to the wrapping. I always think I need to wrap things up. I tend to have strings, fibers, loose ends… and that’s when I realized, I don’t have any strings anymore.

Yesterday I was being introduced to a new work colleague, and my boss said, “This is Liz, you know, the vegetarian I told you about that doesn’t eat vegetables?” I told her, “I’m eating meat again. And I realized I really like tomatoes. Isn’t that neat?” I don’t think she believed me. “Sure, next you’re going to say you liked the Guinness, right?”

So yeah. I’m a walking contradiction. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Life moves pretty fast, you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it (Oh Liz and her Ferris Bueller quotes…).

I’m making a dinner for some very dear friends and family tomorrow night. I’m making the infamous bruschetta with a nice summer salad. I’m already nervous. I burned my dinner (toast) this evening; toasters are so much more EFFICIENT on this side of the pond!

I don’t want to be disappointing, and I don’t want to concoct food that is unfit for human consumption, but I think, even if that happens, I can find a really, really, REALLY interesting and creative way to write about it here. So that’s what I’m going to do. I’ll cook, and report back on the disaster level.

So have a little faith. We survived during the bread famine (lent period spent in Ireland), we can get through anything, even Liz’s clumsy and often detrimental effect on kitchen appliances.

And if not, I’ll go back to wrapping cookies.