I used to only have two distinct jobs during the year and they only overlapped on the outer fringes of their existences. First is the job I hold at a sorority as a cook and the second takes place during the summer at the Farmer's Market. Now I wear this third hat, published (almost officially) author.
As I have mentioned, my three parts never collided like they have the past two weeks. When I wake, I am cook extraordinaire. Afternoon rolls around, and between batches of bread for the market, I try to plot a few lines for my next book. Then it's back to sling in' hash for the college girls. I go home and become farmer chick, checking up on my garden, picking the ripe tomatoes and peas, and exterminating some noxious weed or offending insect that dares cross my path. My nights are illuminated by the glow of my computer screen, researching, writing, and editing. Editing. Editing...
And though I know the market life is about to wind down, ready to hibernate until next spring, I feel grateful I've been able to balance it thus far. I guess it's a good thing I don't have much of a social life or children - the dogs take care of themselves.
Please excuse me, there is a hungry girl/baking timer/confusing sentence/errant weed calling my name.
Beans
My market stall
My poor neglected dog
