Visualize this!

So...for a while there I was trying to teach pre-K.  I ran away from that in January and am much the better for it. The long, sordid story will probably come out in bits and pieces here.  Meanwhile, I am basically a kept woman, the antithesis of what I was raised to be, which is probably why it bugs me so damn much.

I have no idea what to do next. The thought of getting back on the rejection hamster wheel that was applying to lawyer jobs is terrifying.  The thought of trying to write professionally--hopping onto another such wheel--is about equally scary.  I have had so damn much I've wanted to say that the idea of coming back here to type in this little box got overwhelming.  But one has to start somewhere.

I have been trying to make (readying finger quotes) a vision board--Lord knows I have mountains of magazines to mine.  Some of the little scraps of paper I've been hanging onto for years.  It is bound to be somewhat vague as far as certain Life Goals, because I really don't know what I want exactly. Of course there will be various enouragements re kicking butt and taking names, but nothing so specific as a picture of, say, a briefcase.  I'm not about to put a picture of a baby on there because of the harsh reality that it might not work out that way.  There will be cats, however. Of that I am certain.

So I've been going through my piles and piles of magazines.  As gifts from my mother and grandmother, I am subscribed to Southern Living, Better Homes & Gardens, Bon Appetit, and O[prah's mag].  Mom also passes along the occasional Real Simple, Garden & Gun (which can be great despite its frightening title), and Every Day with Rachael Ray, which is SO! very! busy!, and full of exclamation points!!!, but which also discusses food I might actually eat, as opposed to BA, which is full of things like fish sauce (not only no, but Hell No).  BA and O have both been full of pseudoscience lately (white sugar bad! juice fast good!), but BA recently redeemed itself partway, by putting Mel Brooks on its back page.

Anyway, one of the volumes advised checking the reliability of one's oven thermostat, because they are notoriously screwy, and since I had to bake for church today anyway, I put the oven thermometer in there and checked it after 6 minutes, which is when the oven beeps to tell me, ostensibly, that it is fully pre-heated and ready to accept cargo. In reality, it was over 200 degrees short of 350.  So if you are like me, and turn on the oven when you start baking, only to fret about wasted heat as your creation takes forever to come together:  I wouldn't fret quite so much.  Which is good advice for life, really, and just the kind of thing one might affix to a piece of posterboard.