Be careful what you wish for . . .

June 27, 2012

It's the day after my birthday, about 10 am. The dog that was barking incessantly (not mine) has stopped, but that annoying sound has been replaced by a few yard machines chewing on their breakfast. I'm not sure which is worse.

I've had my coffee and have still not eaten anything, but I just plain can't figure out what I want to eat. I know, I know, I'm supposed to eat breakfast right away. Life gets in the way sometimes. Ugh.

My birthday was pretty much great, even though Jeremy is at the boat beavering away on the mast. Oh, wait. That's a bad image. He's VARNISHING the mast, not chewing it to bits. Still, he called to sing to me. Julian woke up and sang to me. I went to my writing group, which I love. I had a reflexology appointment, where Teresa greeted me with flowers and a hug and an amazing session. My good friend Lauren made dinner for me and the kids. 

And then, right before I went to bed, I got an email from my new clients, letting me know they've found someone else.

Okay, Nica. This is what you wanted. You didn't want to drive 40 minutes each way, remember? You enjoyed the work, yes, but you weren't sure at all you wanted to be in that world. Remember? You hated the fact that you needed to leave the house before the kids woke up. That you have no culinary training and therefore were kind of an "imposter" (even though I told them this up front). Remember? THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED.

So why did I feel so sad on reading this email? It's not like she said, "Your cooking is terrible and we can't bear the thought of eating another one of your garbage meals." It's not like she said, "Don't bother asking for a recommendation because we won't give you one." She said that they were trying out someone else, someone more available than I am, someone who might even be able to follow them to Florida when they go there in the winter. She signed the email with a very nice "Thank you for your help - past and future." This is not an email from someone who never wants to see (or eat my creations) again. (unless she's just way over polite - always possible.)

People on Facebook have been more than kind. Responses to my post about this have run the gamut of "morons" to "I didn't like you working for them anyway" to "can we have lunch next week" to "this opens up something amazing for you - wonder what it will be?" A couple of people have pointed out that really, we all want to be wanted - and this might be the real reason for my sadness.

I think they're right.

And I think, too, that it's time for me to stop trying to analyze this, deal with the fact that that was a pretty heady experience (I mean, really - they are advertising with the Culinary Institute of America and they raved about MY food), and look on the bright side.

1) I don't have to worry about my kids being alone for a few hours each day.

2) I can focus on cooking for people who really need me.

3) I have time to write! Write write write!

4) Oh crud. I can mow the lawn.

Hope your day is filled with perfect.