"Overdone and Undercooked" Newspaper Columns©

Back in the classroom we were told we would have a few weeks of the classroom before going into the kitchen and starting our knife skills.We were also told that we could go into the kitchen and get a cup of coffee.  On our break in the classroom before class.

One morning I was early so I went into the dining room to get a cup of coffee. But when I got there the large commercial coffee pot was empty.  I turned to leave when the Chef from the kitchen tour was right behind me. “Oh, excuse me,” I said.

He had a grin the size of Mississippi!  I’m Chef Brock and you? He said, as he reached out his hand to me.  I gulped.  Up close, he had sexy black stubble on his face.  Straight white teeth. Long black lashes with green eyes staring deep into mine with his Togue off his head.   But he was so full of energy, and I already a wreck, and full of no confidence – knowing that the attraction to each other was mutual.  I tried to sound intelligent but i think i stuttered something like, “I came in here for coffee.”

”Oh, coffee, huh.  Well, I’ll tell you what.  You tell me your name, and I will show you how to make the coffee.” This handsome Chef must have been close to 35 I think and here I was 57 old enough to be his momma. ‘I’m sorry.”  Then, i laughed awkwardly, ”My name is Jillie.”  He smiled again. We were both tall in a hallway that barely let two people stand side by side.  We were breathing the same air and I was losing oxygen fast.

Ok, this is what you do to get coffee.  He walked alongside of me and opened the cupboards  and pulled out coffee filters, coffee and measure spoons. His hands were scrubbed clean.  He chatted on about how to make the coffee .

All i could think about was this guy had to be 35 years or younger and he was firting with me??? ME?  He had a tattoo on the back of his neck that you could barely see covered with his Chef jacket.

I may have been married my whole life, but i stll knew what it was like to be flirted with and realized i wasn’t thinking of Foreclosure for the entire 15 minutes we spent together.

I left the room with a cup of coffee and no idea how to make it.

 

It had a horseshoe bar where patrons could sit on stools or be seated at tables. As we walked through the dining room in a line, I noticed a Chef wearing the tall white hat.  I later found out was called a Toque Blanche. It was early morning and the dining room only opened for lunch.  The Chef was sitting at one of the tables drinking coffee.  Marcus was behind me. I had on my suede jacket, a long skirt, knee-high leather boots, and my long blonde hair down.

The Chef and I looked right at each other.  And he gave me ”The Look.”  I am pretty sure most women know that “Look.”  So, it was surprisingly flattering to think I was getting that look …at my age?  So, at first, I thought it must be a young person in front of me.  But Marcus was behind me. I enjoyed people and was always flattered if a man walked by and gave me “The Look” but i was young then.

I had no idea who the Chef was and secretly just smiled at myself . Maybe he was looking at Marcus. SHUT UP.  He was looking at me. Back in the classroom after our morning tour, Chef Laura told us that today being Monday and our first day, we need all to be in cooking uniform by Friday.  No excuses. The school provides you with a uniform as part of your tuition. These are the items you will be expected to have:

The white Chef’s jacket should be long-sleeved, double-breasted, and worn with the sleeves cuffed. No further than the wrists unless told otherwise.  The double-breasted panel on the front is useful because it can quickly be reversed to hide stains.  In addition, your name will be embroidered on the jacket.

Marcus, such a nice guy didn’t deserve it and I could tell by the look on his face he wasn’t going to to take it ever again.  Chef Laura directed him to go to the back of the class where there was an empty seat.

Chef Laura told us in her now familiar booming baritone voice. ”Today you students wil be given a tour of the cafeteria, the kitchen and the dining room.  Pay attention as all of you will be working in these areas this quarter. A student was waving her hand up and Chef Laura told her that all questions will be asked during the tour.

“Chef Laura said everybody get up and follow me. Everyone gather your things and let’s go.  Chef, said and went to the door and wait in the hallway until we all gather then follow me.”

Marcus came up to me and whispered in my ear, “That Bitch.”  “You didn’t deserve that  Marcus I’m sorry. ”FUCK, man, I am not in grade school.  I hate this place allready. “Stay with me on this tour, okay.” I said.  He nodded yes.

Chef Laura started our tour in the cafeteria.  “You  all circle around, please.  In the cafeteria you will learn all the positions.  Including the cash register.  Also, we will do prep clean up and make sandwiches and salads for the student body.”

“Let us continue on, follow me, please. As she walked  she talked about our next visit to the School Kitchen.  “We will be working inside the kitchen. In the kitchen, there are sinks, cutting tables machines, several walk-in refrigerators, one for diary one for produce.  And this is where we would bring our knives.”

Next, she toured the washing room, which later, we all called the Dish Pit that held a large dishwashing machine and all of the pots, pans, dishes.  Our last stop was the dining room.  We would learn to be a waitstaff, set tables, be a hostess, work the cash register and deliver food.

The dining room has an open concept so that the patrons could see us cooking and preparing.

 

First day of Culinary School!

0n our first day of culinary school, we were to meet in a classroom.  There were about 25 students all in our street clothes.  The room had long tables lined up together in rows and chairs sat behind.  A screen was in the front of the room and one wall had windows to the hallway.

As we all found a seat, we met our first instructor.  A woman Chef who stood at the front of the room.  She wore checker pants, a Chef jacket and big black clogs with rubber soles.  She later said in case a knife fell on your foot or you slip on grease. She did not wear a smile or makeup and had her hands clasped behind her back.

As we all settled in, she stood up front and began to introduce herself.  She had just told us her name and to call her Chef Laura.  When the closed door opened.  It was my friend Travis from math class.  Chef Laura lit into Travis. “Why was he late?  That he should never be late again.  As student’s we first need to know that we are all a team and we count on each other!

She didn’t stop there.  Travis stood in the doorway while Chef Laura lectured him in a tone of meanness and aggression that seemed over the top.  However after meeting many Chef’s her attitude was like them all.

Mean.

Travis , such a nice guy, didn’t deserve it, and I could tell by the look on his face he wasn’t going to take it ever again.

December 29

RE: Notice of Intent to Withdraw

This is my timely written letter of objection to the Notice of Intent to Withdraw from my current representation of my attorney dated December 22.

According to the state rules of professional conduct, the date of withdrawal is 10 days after service of notice including three days for mailing and must be sent certified mail.

I received an e-mail on December 22 and three letters-none of them certified; withdrawal of representation was given with less than 10 days’ notice with last day of representation, January lst.

I was not given reasonable notice-especially during the Christmas/New Year holidays. I was not allowed enough time for employment of other counsel.

Even the Westside Legal Assistance and Neighbor Legal Clinic closed for the holidays.  Both re-open January 3 as do most law offices on holiday vacation. Furthermore, per the Rules of Professional Conduct no papers were surrendered, which as the client I am entitled to.

My attorney was on holiday starting December 20 until January 3 and unavailable and unwilling to explain these matters to the extent reasonably necessary to permit myself to make informed decisions on a brief discussion held months ago.

We agreed to continue representation until the end of the case.

Like Paul Bunyan, the giant lumber jack and we together sawed back and forth at herculean speed (at least 18 minutes) and by gawd that saw chewed through maybe a good inch!

We plopped down on the wet ground to brainstorm.  We came up with a new plan.

Paige would lasso the top of the tree.   And i would give it a good kick on the bottom.  And we would yell TIMBER!

”TIMBER”

It fell down!

We both looked at each other in disbelief!!

But then we tried to pick it up!  It was way more substantial than the axe.

Now what?

I grabbed the big blue tarp and threw it across the driveway.  ”If we can roll that sucker over here on top of the tarp, then we can drag it up to the house,” I yelled over the toppled Christmas tree.

And pull it we did!

And a considerable amount of time of stopping to rest.

Then we would get cold and start back upheaving the tree and then get too hot again and start back upheaving the tree.

Earlier than expected, we hit the front door of the house!

Refreshed and energized by our triumph to have made it to the door!

“Your know how Dad loved that little blue-green pine tree.  Shaped like a Christmas tree at the end of the driveway.”  I said to Paige, who was lying on the couch, reading a textbook.  “He would always run his hand through it to smell the pine.  You know, we, I mean, I can, we can…

Paige sat up.  She slammed the textbook shut.  She turned to look at me, wearing a big grin on her face.  We didn’t have to say a thing.

We gathered up our outdoor clothes: Rain jacket, rubber boots, grabbed gloves, and headed out to the barn to find an ax.

We did find it with all the other tools that were stuck-fast in the wall.  “Whoa, Mom, way to get your anger out!” exclaimed Paige, when she saw all the tools stuck in the wall.

We rummaged through the tools and found rope, ax, a long saw with handles on both ends and a tarp.  We started down the driveway loaded with gear.

“Wow.  It is way bigger than I remember,” I said.  ‘And wide,” Paige said.  It was tall maybe 6 feet  9 inches (I have no idea really) I had never really looked at it this close before.  I could not quite get my fingers to touch around the width of the trunk.

Tools and I have an understanding. I don’t want to be a handyman. The reason I bring this up is that Paige just handed me the ax.  I had no more held an ax than used an ax.  And the ax was heavy!

But I had enough antagonism for both of us!!  My first try and the ax stuck in the tree.  Paige grabbed it and I grabbed her waist and we pulled.  The ax stayed.

We fell.  Paige on top of me and whacked me in the chin with her head.  We could not stop laughing. Now we have dirt on our face and in our hair and it is lightly snowing.

Yay! A white Christmas, maybe.  I was doubled over with cramps from laughing so hard.

“Screw the ax! Let’s try that saw.” I said. With the ax still in the tree we grabbed the two handles saw.

 

My daughter Paige is home from College for Christmas.  Our first new life:  Christmas without a father, without a husband.  I feel as if my heart has a hole in it so embarrassed that Paige’s father was no longer family.

After decades of Christmas day’s together.  I love all the holidays, but Christmas is the only day everyone is confined in the house because they want to be.  The warm feel and familiarity of tradition.  Same ornaments, same special breakfast, same holiday movie.

The same mess in the clean house of ribbons, wrapping paper, empty boxes scattered around and under the tree.  The family is all safe, warm, full, and best of all…together.

This Christmas Paige and I are both living on Financial Aid.

Together we decided it is best to have No Presents and No Christmas tree.

Studying law in college, Paige is inundated with studies and homework no time for Christmas anyway, she said.

Paige and I sat silently in the living room on this cold, bitter Christmas Eve Day.  My gray mood had turned black.  No Tree.  No Presents. No  Christmas. I shook my head.  I did not know what to do.

And then I had an Idea!

“Goodbye.”

I left the coffee shop just shaking.  Now I felt tired, aching tired, so deeply tired it was hard to find enough oxygen to lean against the coffee shop outside wall.

Biting my lip and clenching my fists at Cecilia.

Congratulation Cecilia.  Ta-da! In less than 10 minutes you have made me feel small and invisible. Was it not enough that Nick threw my life away?

Now my supposed best friend? Kicked dirt in my face.  I had never seen the green on her face before.  I always congratulated her or praised her but now looking back when I would be excited there never was a nice response.

Except for just a change of subject.  Whenever a suggestion or something you thought was nice. She would shrug her shoulders, tilt her head and say, “Nah.”

Worst then betrayal is abandonment.  You never forget the pain. You never loose sight of why? You never really trust or forgive again.  It changes you in a way no other emotion can.

Losing your innocence your naivety your desire to believe. It turns it all into dust.

No more solid ground.

Tiny little specks of what once was is now stuck in your hair, your mouth, your nose.  You never breathe the same; aways something caught in your throat…it is the leftover.

The leftover of love that has died.

An unseemingly and untimely death to only you as the other players watch, laugh, smirk, at your ignorance.  Smug in their knowledge of deceit they hang around you like shadows.

Pop up unexpected and stay as long as they want.

And then gone again only to leave you cold, alone, and shaken.

Abandonment is the cruelest thing you can do to another human being.

I never saw Cecilia again.

 

“I am the same age as you are.  Are you ready to go into a senior citizen home?  You have a trust fund Cecilia. Are you telling me that you will not help me financially to save the house?  The house is all I got.  What part of I have no education and bad credit are you not hearing?  Where am I going to live?  I have to save the house just to survive in the coming years.”

I can hear the hysteria in my voice, as I spread my hands and arms away from my body, with furrow brow. I might add.  Cecilia didn’t react.  Silence betwen us. My face is hot and my ears are pounding as my blood pressure rises.

With a deep breath. Gently I say, “You know I will pay you back after the house sells.”

“It is causing you so much stress Jillie just dump it and move on with your life.” She said boorishly.

I raise my head in disbelief. ”Cecilia is this your way of saying your not going to help me?”  Great.  Just great. Talking to her was like spitting in the ocean.  My words meant nothing to her, as I guess our friendship, didn’t either. I know if it was reversed I would help my friend in need and talk not just brush me off.

“It is what it is.” She said looking down at her tea and dunking and redunking her tea bag over and over until I stopped her.  I leaned back in my sit and shook my head.  “So, now I understand when I told you Nick had left. And I don’t even know, if you know that you smiled, when I said the attorney is leaving.  Who smiles at someone’s pain?

“I never realized before Cecilia how jealous you were of me?  But I do now.  I also know that you are a Fairweather friend.”

She refused to look at me.

My anger was spreading like cheat grass.

Cecilia was cheapter than table salt.