There's not much to say. It didn't happen this year, 2020. I did take a four day weekend because I had not had a break since February. I worked through the pandemic. In this strange year, I'm an essential worker. What kind of self respecting pandemic needs a pastry chef?
I made the most of it. I did not sleep in the first two days, because my dog gently woke me five minutes after I normally get up. I was not aware that she could tell time. It's sweet that she takes care of me.
So what did I do while I was awake? I compiled an agent list and began querying my food novel. I finished reading a book. Gardened. Made sourdough focaccia. Turned the overload of tomatoes from my garden into a roasted tomato sauce. Baked an orange cake. Had a Zoom family dinner.
I swam with my husband. And since you can't swim laps in a round pool, we volleyed a beach ball. I perfected sidestroke. I did some enameling, and drove down a winding road through the hills to the post office. I worked on my sling throwing skills (a game that came from a book a friend is writing). Picked up a goat cheese pizza, since we never eat out anymore. I spray painted an old discolored and indestructible white plastic chair that came with the house. The fun part was that while each layer of paint dried, I went back in the pool.
Mostly, I took four days to slow down, to listen to the trees, the world and to myself. It's the shared pandemic experience I had missed, because in the weird wacky world of 2020, pastry chefs are essential.
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