Mood: Sarcastic, and not very creative.
In August I decided to become a master chef. August is when it started and August is when it ended. I made a delicious dish in which had to take a piece of completely edible raw chicken, took a meat tenderizer mallet and pounded it down. Took it from normal to grotesque with each pound. I almost gave up the dish, in fact, because the chicken was so disgusting. Because of my amateur cooking knowledge, I continued to follow the recipe. Next I took the flat animal and dipped it in basil and flour and egg whites and cooked it on 450 degrees for 35 minutes. I was having boys over for dinner so I was very concerned about my dish. I kept an eye on the oven for the entire 30 minutes and miraculously the end result was an amazingly flavorful, perfectly textured, delicious meal.
As I was speaking with a friend yesterday I kept seeing the meat tenderizer mallet and I felt like that chicken. I was the cook and the meal. I was being pounded and prodded and pulled in every direction until I appeared completely unnecessary. I have yet to reach the part where I douse myself in flower and basil and cook until perfection. But I am looking forward to when the timer in this part of my life goes off and I begin to enjoy the final product.