It's about time!! Decades of time!

So what can I say about the last two years that you have not already thought of, experienced, cried about, felt, or otherwise just took in and let go. We all have. Something everyone in the world has in common. 

The good news here is that with all that extra time on my hands I actually finished my memoir. YES, it's true: I wrote my life's story and am now inserting the recipes to finish it off. My memoir has to have recipes, right? Food has been my life since I was a wee one and this will tell it all. The good, the bad and the tasty.

Anyone who really knows me, knows I have a ton of stories to tell. With the help of my amazing writers group headed up by the fabulous Clifford Henderson, I have learned to find my voice on paper. 

I tell my story in decades from my creation to my retirement. That's a ton of decades! 

It has been amazing for me to revisit my past. The memories that float to the surface when I begin to write what I think I remember suddenly they are brighter and more real than I remember. And details emerge I had forgotten. It's fun, sad, exciting, heart wrenching, rewarding and work. Work that I have enjoyed so much I can't quit writing. Hence, this blog. 

I thought it might be fun to publish some teasers on this page. Tell me what you think!

My story begins in the 1950s suburbs of San Francisco. Where my mother designed our new house in the Mills Estates from ten open model homes. We bought a corner lot with lots of room for a big yard. Mom picked a three bedroom, two bathroom model with a separate dining room, living room and kitchen. No open floor plans in those days. 

We had a cat named Puss-puss and a dog named Junior. I saw kittens being born for the first time at that house. 

My mom had a ships bell she nailed to the fence and when she wanted me home from somewhere in the neighborhood she would grab that leather rope and swing that little clapper until the four surrounding blocks could hear that brass bell ring. I would come running. 

Life seemed idyllic. It was not.

My parents were of the belief that children did not need to know grownup business so I was kept in the dark about anything "grownup". Children are not stupid though and I eventually saw the problem. It came in the form of a bottle.  Many bottles. Drinking was a way of life for my parents, and it caught up to them. 

In response to this disruption of the seemingly perfect life, I ran away and lived with the hippies in the Haight-Ashbury. The year was 1967. In hindsight, I was very brave. I lived on the streets, took drugs, had lots of sex, panhandled for money and did what I had to to survive at only sixteen years old.

I was left an orphan at seventeen. I lived with my half brother for a while but found a hippy paradise in Santa Cruz in 1970. 

I traveled, lived in a commune, traveled some more, went to college for awhile, and finally landed a job in a natural foods bakery. This is where my passion was awakened. It took a few years but I finally realized I had found my way. I pursued this as my career. 

The 80s brought my son, french pastries, restaurant work, opening my own bakery and the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake which flattened the bakery. I was growing up fast. 

My next step was teaching. I loved it. I found a new passion. Eighteen years teaching in the Culinary Department of Cabrillo College and I left there to teach at a professional culinary college. 

I met so many of my mentors in the industry. I walked among them. I was in awe of my new life and career. I found my dream job. 

Life is full of ups and downs. I had them all. Tons of fun and adventure but lots of problems and dangers too. I hope my story is full of inspirations and insights. Happiness in the face of disorder. Finding love when life gives you crap. It's a common story really.