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Wanted: Corporate Backers.

In light of my current inability to find employment, I've decided to skip the whole freaking process and go into business for myself. And, I'm thinking what the grand ol' city of Citrus Fruit needs is a coffeehouse. I AM aware that a coffeehouse has been tried before and is no longer in business, but this is because it was handled all wrong. No one moves into a relatively poor neighborhood where no one goes and does well (unless it's NYC, in which case, this could and has worked because it's suddenly "hip".) Citrus Fruit needs to appeal to both the art-sy & the professional types....i.e, it needs to be cool enough for the creative people & within easy walking distance of the law offices. I'm thinking Main Street, for sure.

To be continued....

Heeheehee, I'm making gold by posting essentially meaningless things to the web---I could be a real blogger!!! And if I do it just right, maybe I could have a movie made about me (Julie & Julia, anyone?) So. Basically I mixed a little Bisquick and water together to make a roll-able mix, which I proceeded to roll out on a somewhat clean and floured counter. This I coated with a sumptuous mix of melted butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon, which I had previously stirred together in a measuring cup and extensively sampled for flavor control..... When the brown sugaryness was spread thickly and evenly over the pastry, I rolled it up pinwheel-style and sawed it into neat slices, which I placed in a tray and baked until the dough turned a pale golden brown and the cinnamon scent wafted (don'tcha love that word, "wafted"?) through the house, calling loved ones and...other people...from their distant corners to steal fresh cinnamony buns from me.

There! My very first experimental food blog. biggrin

Yes, I know that I have very little to do. Although actually there ARE things I should be doing at this point, and will get in trouble if I don't do soon.

Ciao!

"We've made our choices and unfortunately you aren't the one we picked." Ouch. And, like a dimwit, I said, "Thanks for calling to let me know." Like, "Thanks for letting me know that you didn't want me, thanks for breaking my heart, thanks for kicking me to the curb and laughing about it..." Oh, well, theoretically "there are other jobs" (theoretically, I've yet to see this, but, you know, theoretically....) So. Back to scoping the classifieds, I suppose. Luckily--I didn't really really really undefined want that job anyway-it sounded kind of boring. Unluckily-it means I have to find another job interview to go to (and I really don't like those much.)

Shouldn't have gone ahead with the haircut. Should have stayed in my fearful, timid, reluctant, unsure, frightened, cowardly frame of mind, and kept my hair intact. NOW it's a daily pain in the--well, it's a daily pain, that's all. There's something to be said I guess for being brave and trying new things, but, at this time, the things I have to say about it aren't very pleasant. Oh, well, given about six years I suppose it could grow back...