Running at least an hour behind on my morning reading today. How can you jank your neck on a treadmill?? Oy. Regardless, that’s what I did, and I broke down last night and did something I rarely do: I took a narc. The Percocet put me out bigtime, and I didn’t regain consciousness until I heard Rousseau sneeze on the floor beside the bed at 7:00.

*Yaawwwn*

So anyway, to the wisdom. One of my many articles over coffee was about how the Five Guys burger franchise got off the ground. Founder Jerry Murrell said:

Customers initially gawked [in 1986] at the $2.19 price ($4.59 today, adjusted for inflation), but once they tasted the burgers they eventually came around.

 

“Some people said, ‘I’m not paying that much for a hamburger.’ And then we’d say, ‘OK, don’t pay for it, just take it then.’ And you know, in the 25 years we’ve done that, every single customer’s come back and paid it plus a big tip. And they became customers of ours,” Murrell says. “I think people will pay a little extra for food if it’s worth it.”

That really struck me, and I’ll tell you why.

It will come as no surprise to anyone that I have been thinking more and more lately of my *next* career. As many of you know, I’m leaning towards baking in order to supplement my pension when retirement comes. That, and maybe getting on with a university somewhere to supervise student teachers, or work in an office part time…anything but give studio lessons, pal. With regard to baking, I asked myself, “Do I believe in what I’m doing enough to give it away in order to sell it?”

I cover my cakes in buttercream made with real butter. I make my royal icing by hand, and will painstakingly decorate each homemade sugar cookie with it myself. The prices will reflect this formula, for sure. And if someone doesn’t want to pay, say, a dollar and a half for one of my cookies, do I have the confidence to say, “OK, just take it then”? Truth is, as much as folks may not want to believe it, in order to be a success, you have to be in business for more than just money. Scratch that. You don’t have to, but if you’re not, a crucial element is missing, and your customers will undoubtedly, at some point, sense it.

Therefore, your level of passion and the quality of your product — and, quite likely, the success of your endeavor — are inextricably linked. That’s a big bite to chew, because it involves great risk, far beyond the standard dangers of starting your own business. The Five Guys people believed in their product so completely, they were willing to step in front of a proverbial speeding train for it. Will I have that kind of courage? I hope so.

Interesting food for thought on a Sunday morning. And speaking of food, breakfast is ready. Come on over and I’ll give it to you for free.

Today, she rests.

It’s been a good week, though. From Monday morning’s Meg meet-up, through the Akron odyssey with Rousseau, the Thriller’s birthday and accompanying feast preparations, spending some awesome family time with Mavis and my nephew, and preparing for my final project for the first cake decorating course — it’s been quite the busy few days. But today I do other things, like get ready for you-know-what.

I’m teaching a course this fall (music theory) in conjunction with a local university, whereby high school students can earn college credit. But the planning and record-keeping are pretty demanding — something I’m not entirely used to. Ha. So the planning begins today, but not in too much earnest. Why? Because season one of West Wing arrived yesterday, and sometime this afternoon, there will be dozing on the couch and watching television. Yay! A calm before the storm.

But for now, I drink some tea and get back to eating somewhat better than I have been. Too many celebrations make a fussy Fink.

Have a great day — we all know what tomorrow is.

Today is Rousseau’s appointment with the eye specialist in Akron, so this afternoon around 2:30, we will pack him in the car and take off. It really shouldn’t be a nervy time, as we’ll likely get some answers. I guess I’m slightly worried about what the answers might be.

Lots going on today and tomorrow, sheebus. And I still haven’t ordered music for school. Here we go again…

Akron today, and a visit from our nephew from Florida in the morning. Tomorrow is also the Thriller’s birthday! He wants it low-key, but we will see what kind of fuss we can kick up anyway. Still trying to figure out how to get 61 candles in a pineapple upside-down cake.

But first, a rare treat: kaffee klatsch in Mansfield with RtB fiend Meg. Haven’t seen her in many moons, so this will be great. Then it’s off to various retail outlets, and back home to get the men in the car and jet to Akron.

Then I shall rest. I hope.

Off to Mornday! Have a goody.

*insert circus music*

What IS IT with me? I have got to get my collective crap together.

After last night’s minor debacle in the parking lot following cake decorating class, I came home to a lovely, clean workspace. It was 8:30 p.m., and I had a plan. HAD. I was going to begin research for Dinner Theatre programming (I’ve done nothing and RtB fiend Greg is waiting to start set design). What did I do instead? Started working on an arrangement for my vocal jazz ensemble that I won’t even think of using until January. What the…?

Focus, Fink. Focus.

It’s like I don’t what to do next, in spite of having a list. What good’s a list if it all looks like a research paper written in Sanskrit? I am going kookoo. Case in point: I just got an email from the new superintendent of my school district. Nice guy. He asked me if I was the one who could give him a username and password to get into the website to edit his page. So I immediately fire up the website admin panel, and…WAIT. I’m still writing this morning’s blog post. Why don’t I finish that first, THEN give Mr. B. his login credentials?

I have the attention span of a paper clip, that’s why. Absolutely no self-discipline. Chaos. Mayhem.

All right, I’m good now. Go do the login for the super, email it to him, then get started. Right. Got it.

Now what was I going to do today again……….?

Yep, I confess. Yesterday, I had a full-blown, super deluxe, stage 5 nuclear meltdown. Complete control rod failure.

What does this entail, you ask? Oh, nothing much, other than dumping out drawers, frantically pawing books off the shelves onto the floor, sweeping the surface of the desk with my arm, and flinging across the room two full pails of pens, pencils, flash drives, Post-It Notes and markers. Office Tornado. Parlor Cyclone. Massteria.

The Thriller, downstairs in his office, thought I was using Rousseau as a bowling ball. (Truth is, poor Rousseau was cowering under the dining room table.)

Why did I do this, you ask? Well…I couldn’t find something.

I know, I know. That’s ridiculous. Tear apart your parlor because you can’t find a piece of paper or whatever it was that went missing. It’s nuts, and a major character flaw. I used to clear my dresser in this fashion when I got mad. Jewelry box, framed photos, loose change, alarm clock, lamp…schlinnnnng!…away it all went. Actually, it was somewhat therapeutic, in a completely Outer Limits, beyond-screwed-up way. I’ll stop short of suggesting you try it.

After cleaning off the desk, picking up 3,000 papers, and putting the books back

Anyway, the Thriller takes these occasional tirades as a cry for help, and once again, he came to my rescue. He suggested — as he did four years ago around this time (dear God, I’m a hoarder) — a cleansing of the room. You know, kind of a demolition and rebuilding project. And since the demolition had already taken place, he was well on his way. So I decided, halfway during the cleanup phase, to photo-chronicle the transformation.

He went to Wally and bought one of those Rubbermaid stacked-up drawer units, so I wouldn’t have to smash all my office supplies in one desk drawer and two little cubbies in the hutch. Then he brought up an oak desk (no easy task) from his office and put it in the corner so I’d have a little more storage and a place for my printer that wasn’t the top of my space heater. He brought order to my chaos, calmly and happily, without once threatening to Baker Act me.

And then there was peace.

He’s a good egg.

He was so inspired by his magic trick in my parlor, he went down to his office and committed the same neatness crime in his own space.

And now that the transformation has taken place, all is in order and I am calm. There’s the whole issue of not getting ANYTHING on the list done yesterday, but hey, there’s always today and tomorrow and tomorrow, right?

Welp, we’re off to the veterinary opthalmologist in Akron today. (Apparently, there is such a thing.) Gotta get Pup’s eye taken care of. Then it’s back in time for cake decorating class. I must admit I’m really starting to like this “act like you’re retired” thing…

Have a great day!

TantrumFink