The Museum Job

Greetings from Cancun. Chris and I left for the tropical destination last Saturday and tomorrow we will make the trek back to Canada. First stop Toronto, and then a final flight into Calgary on Monday evening. Our vacation came at just the right time: To kick the fall off and to officially (and appropriately I might add) say goodbye to the summer.

I haven’t written in a while because a) I was waiting to get some news on some potential job change and b) when the news came and then went again, I was able to duck under the cover of a trip to Mexico in order to put thought into the outcome and consequences of what happened in the span of a week. Today I’m feeling somewhat at ease about the entire thing, but last week at this time, I wasn’t feeling so hot.

I interviewed with a museum. They were looking for a special events coordinator and so, on a whim I applied for the job and never put any stock into hearing a response. As fate would have it, I heard the next day and interviewed a week later. I came out of the interview feeling like things had gone alright, but the overwhelming feeling of me getting the job wasn’t there, so I chalked it up to good interviewing experience and kept pushing forward. I waited an entire week and by the next Friday, I got a call from the man in interviewed with and he said that they really liked me, and were really happy with what they saw (insert huge ego boost here!) He was leaving on vacation and couldn’t make a decision before his departure, but he wanted me to know that he was really excited by my personality and in his mind, I was top of the list. He also cautioned that they were looking for a person who would handle the workload as well as have absolute dedication to the position. I quickly assured him that I too was also looking for both those things and would give the 200% necessary for the job. We ended the phone conversation on a positive note and I was assured that he would be getting back to me once he returned from vacation.

Not more than two hours later he called me back and said that he wanted to give me the job. I nearly jumped through the phone with sheer delight and told him I would be standing by for the job offer. I waited and waited and waited. In the span of a week, I spoke with his right hand lady twice who assured me that the paperwork was coming, it had just gotten caught up in HR and I continued to wait. Monday turned into Thursday and I was getting concerned about the no show on the job offer. Secondly, I was concerned about the fact that on the Saturday I was hoping a plane to Mexico and quitting my old job via email just didn’t seem fair.

I carried my cell phone with me everywhere with the hope that I might hear something. And the call finally appeared on Friday morning, last week. The man I interviewed with, who was on vacation somewhere in the United States, called to tell me that my job offer was being pulled and the soonest that he could look to officially hire me again wouldn’t be until at least the end of October, maybe even into November. He went on to say that the museum was currently under a hiring freeze, but given his workload he had been given special permission to hire someone, which was revoked by one of his colleagues. He apologized profusely and said that we would be in touch, that the job position was closed and he was sorry he was being so cryptic etc. etc.

See, it’s a good thing I have been in Mexico for the last week.

I understand that he was in a position that wasn’t easy. Shit, I wouldn’t want to hire someone and then tell him or her that the HR paperwork was never coming. Further to this, given the state of the economy, it comes as no surprise to me that the museum is under a hiring freeze. My biggest question still remains, Now what? I keep getting told that everything happens for a reason, and I’m sure it does, but right now, I’m not feeling so much love for that phrase. I know it’s meant as a sign of hope and encouragement, but it’s not really helping. When I first got the job interview I was super ecstatic that I was even considered, and when I got the job, I was even more thrilled that I was hired. I was looking forward to moving to a company that had work for me to do. I was looking forward to being able to get up in the morning and state that my being at work was making a difference. I was really looking forward to working with people who were connected to the arts and who were involved in the community. I know that in two or three months time that might be the case, but until then, what do I do? My current work situation has turned from bad to ugly and although September started 4 days ago, I have little faith that my current work situation is going to turn around, as everyone within the walls of my office continues to assure me. There are too many factors and variables to work against the notion that the month of September is going to change that.

I take courage in the fact that he stated that they have found their candidate and they job posting is closed. I take solace in the fact that it wasn’t me or my skills but rather a condition of the economy and forces beyond my control. I will keep in touch with the museum and continue to look at the situation, as much as necessary. I’m too much of a realist to put any stock into the end of October, beginning of November. In my experience, November can easily turn into April. I am blessed to have people who are in my corner though, and for that I am extremely grateful. R. from work is on a Calgary wide hunt for something else for me, and I don’t think she will ever know how grateful I am to her for that.

At the end of it all, I feel like maybe I am coming out on top. At least that’s what a week in Mexico has told me. I will enroll in a fall class on event planning (incase the museum actually comes through) and I now have the ability to put all efforts towards getting my gallery up and running for the 2nd of October. I can also put some thought and energy into getting more cupcakes produced and sold and all this while getting paid for something else. Maybe that isn’t so bad. Finally, I’ve been asked by the medical group that my mom does volunteer work for if I would go with them to Iraq in November to photograph their journey, and I have agreed with no hesitation. Maybe this is all supposed to happen before I can focus on the museum. Maybe not. When I return to my old job on Tuesday, I’m sure the sinking feeling and heaviness in my chest will return, but that’s ok. I will keep my eye on the prize. I love me, and right now, that’s all that matters.

As a shameless plug, please mark your calendars for October 2, 2009. My gallery will be opening in High River at the Art and Soul Gallery, and I would like nothing more than for you to join me. Starting at 6:30 and going until whenever.

As a poetic ending or potential ending to the story of the almost museum hire, I’m sending an invitation to the man I interviewed with at the museum. I hope he makes it.

The Faces of High River 2

In Pursuit of Perfection

Patti called me the Cupcake Queen at work on Tuesday night. I had to laugh, because I've never honestly seen myself in that fashion, and further to this, it was one batch of cupcakes and it was two weeks ago.

Ok, let me backup. The beginning of August, I asked Patti, the boss lady at the coffee shop where I work, what the protocol for making food for the coffee shop was, and would it be possible to look into making something of my own, to sell. Patti was eager to let me try, stating that it wouldn't hurt, and it might turn out successful. I did my research, asked other employees their thoughts (and wishes) and finally concluded that I would make cupcakes. If you've ever had a Crave cupcake, or seen the line outside of a Crave bakery, you'll understand me when I say that Calgary, maybe even Alberta loves a good cupcake. This considered, I figured I'd start there.

I finally settled on a recipe for the cupcakes and tentatively agreed to try a particular buttercream icing recipe. Now, if you've ever researched buttercream icings, you'll know that there are about 4 different varieties, all with various amounts of butter, shortening, and even sometimes eggs. I have a cookbook, that I'm sure is being used as a textbook somewhere, that gives 4 different versions of buttercream, with varying descriptions and suggestions. Did you know that there is French buttercream, Italian buttercream, Swiss buttercream and American buttercream. French is the most delicate (no surprise there) and American is the easiest (again, not a big surprise). I had experimented with both the French and the American versions, only to read in the textbook that Swiss is the way to go. Well you should have told me that earlier.

I whipped up my buttercream, made it a beautiful blue and red hue, piped it onto my cupcakes, and drove'em to High River. My goal was to sell out, and peak people's interest. Well folkes, I guess I did more than that. I sold out and heard from three different people about how much people loved them. So, I taking another batch down tomorrow. I'm going to be daring and leave 15 this time instead of 12. Truly, it's all part of my master plan (insert evil laugh here!)

I will post the recipe for Swiss buttercream when I figure out cup measurements. Right now, it's all be weight, and despite the fact that its more accurate by weight, most people don't have a scale. A great investment, but not very common. So, when I can tell you how many eggs and how many cups (yes, I said cups) of sugar , I'll be sure to post it. Word to the wise, it's not a 5 minute procress, more like 35, but well worth the time.

Warning: Working in a toxic environment is bad for your health

The phone visit with my "doctor" yesterday only proved to be somewhat depressing. My "doctor", aka my mother, told me that I needed to start recording everything that I ate in order to figure out why I was having such severe headaches, as food might be a trigger. This poses two problems: First, this means I have to write down everything I eat. Sometimes, I'd rather just eat something and forget I ate it. Writing it down means that I have to take account for what I ingest. Second, this means that I might be eating food(s) that cause me to lay on a couch, with my eyes closed, praying that the loud sounds coming from across the back alley go away. All in all, I don't feel this is a win/win situation for me or my love of food. My best bet is that it isn't butter. Chocolate is still out there as a possibility, but I'm leaning towards no. Thank God!

The dinner party on Saturday night was fantastic. Anna and myself had an awesome time creating lists about our goods, gathering our goods, creating action plans for our lists of goods and then executing everything to almost near perfection. There was one recipe that I'm still 50/50 on. I think that we made an oops somewhere, because heaven forbid, Julia Child make a mistake in the French cooking bible?! The menu consisted of Camembert crackers, potato cheese crackers, Beouf Bourguignon, and raspberry Bavarian cream, with a hint of some fantastic liqueur. Anna and myself convened at noon, went shopping, and started the dessert at 2, as per our intended plan. By the time everyone showed up at 7, everything was done, with only a couple minutes to sit down and feel proud of ourselves and our accomplishments. By the time we said our goodbyes, and divided up the remaining food, it was after 11. I think we did well by Julia, if I do say so myself.

And then the Sunday headache started... I have to admit that this isn't the first headache I've received on a Sunday afternoon - this one was just worse than some I've had and lasted well into Monday. My mom seems to think that it's stress induced, which it probably is.

Warning: Working in a toxic environment is bad for your health.

So, I stayed home yesterday and slept, watched some HBO television and baked/cooked. It was a sick/mental health day, and although I felt rather guilty until about 9 am, I quickly decided that it wasn't worth it to spend my whole day wondering what I was missing at work, and what people were thinking of me and and and...I also decided that I wasn't going to "should" all over myself - I should go to work, I should do laundry, I should vacuum...That type of thinking would have completely ruined my whole ME day. Needless to say, I had a wonderful day, and felt 38% better about coming to work today.

As an aside, the interview on Friday seemed to go alright, but I'm unsure about the whole thing. Better news still, I have another interview at another location on Thursday. I finally feel like the powers that be are starting to smile on me. That wasn't intended to rhythm, but hey, I kind of like it.

Happy Birthday Julia

I don’t know if it’s because I talk about food all the time, or whether, I’m always reading something about food, but I’ve come to be known around the office as the go-to for food related conversations. Case and point, a co-worker of mine came into my “office” (I sit in a big open space) and went into elaborate details about his weekend of soup cooking. He got all excited and
the face that rarely smiles was elated at his accomplishment. I asked the appropriate questions like “what kind of soup?”, “What was cream or broth based?”, “What kind of vegetables did you put into it…” and was proudly told all. Quickly after that, I was approached by another woman in the office with her list of things to bake in the upcoming weekend, which lead to a monologue about her love of cooking and baking. Let me remind you, this was Monday morning at 11:30am.

The reason I mention of this is because when I walked past soup man’s office this morning, and said good morning, he replied, “Good morning Julia”. Now, I’ve been called a great many things in my day, and Julia is the one that rubs me the most. It takes an ounce of effort to say Julie and I feel like calling me Julia is the lazy man’s way of calling my name. It’s Julie people, not Julia. These thoughts must have reached my face and contorted it, because he quickly followed up with “you know, as in the famous chef”. AH!, If you want to call me Julia and refer it back to Julia Child, I’ll take it. But only if it refers to Julia Child.

It’s Julia Child’s birthday on Saturday. Although she died in 2004, I still feel like celebrating her birthday. I have to admit, I’ve got a little bit of Julia fever, as I have her cookbook, I’ve read her memoir and saw the movie about her last Friday.

To celebrate her cooking accomplishments and to toast the summer of 2009, I’m collaborating with a good friend to throw a dinner party. I can’t wait to laugh, drink wine, cook and consume it all in a ¼ of the time it took us a create it. And in that order. Still working on the menu - but I’m not concerned. I’ve got 2 days, 524 recipes to go through, and an Interview (YEAH!) to plan for.

Ok, maybe I’m slightly concerned.

A Kid at Heart

Chocolate chip cookies will always have a special place in my heart. Not because they are the quintessential cookie, or because they are every kids favorite, but because of the memories that they have brought me.


My earliest memory of these cookies was when I was about seven. Me and my best friend had walked home from the bus stop and upon arriving, our babysitter Rhonda told us that our activity for the rest of the afternoon was going to be baking cookies. Thrilled, we grabbed wooden spoons, measuring cups, bowls and set about creating our chocolate masterpiece. I don't remember where the recipe came from, or how it all got mixed together, but what I do remember is how many went into the oven. If my memory serves me right, it was somewhere around 12, maybe even 11. Once the dough got all mixed together, Rhonda told us that we were in charge of scooping the batter, using two spoons, onto the cookie sheet and getting them ready for the oven. She, on the other hand, had to watch The Young and the Restless, but at first commercial break, she would be back to ensure that everything was going according to plan. You'd better believe that by the time she rounded the corner to settle into her soap opera seat, our fingers were into that dough faster than you could say The Young and the Restless. True to her word, she launched into the kitchen to assess our progress, and found 4 cookies on the sheet. Delighted by what she saw, she left again.


We quickly realized after she failed to appear during the second commercial break, that we had an entire bowl of cookie dough to ourselves and no one supervising. Without any hesitation, we shoved our spoons into the bowl and didn't stop. We would occasionally hear a sound coming from the TV room, which would propel us to drop a few more cookies onto the sheet, but when nothing became of the noise, we continued to inhale, stiffling giggles between bites. Suffice to say, when Rhonda appeared on the baking scene at the end of her show, she was shocked by the empty bowl, 12, maybe 11 cookies and two girls looking at her with very convincing, innocent eyes. I don't remember what she did with us, but I can only imagine that it didn't end well.

As you can see from an earlier post, not much has changed, only my age and the location of the cookie dough. This time though, I don't need to hide it. I still giggle at the thought, which is quickly followed by "oh shit, what are you doing..?" but in the long run, I don't care. Life is too short to deprive yourself of all that is good in this world, and cookie dough, raw or otherwise is part of that good.

Ms. Elaine's Chocolate Chip Cookies

Although Elaine claims to have received the recipe from someone else, they will always have her name in the title. These cookies are great to keep around, either as dough or baked. They freeze well and will keep for a long time in an airtight container.

2/3 cups Shortening

2/3 cups Butter of Margarine

1 cup Brown Sugar

1 cup White Sugar

2 tsp. Vanilla Extract

2 Eggs

2 1/2 cup Flour

1 tsp Baking Soda

1 tsp Salt

1 cup Large Flake Oatmeal

1 cup Chocolate Chips, or more to taste

Cream your shortening, butter and sugars together until it is well blended and creamy looking.

Around 5 minutes. Add the eggs and vanilla, and beat until incorporated. Do not over blend.

In a separate bowl, combine your flour, baking soda and salt. Add to cream mixture all at one and beat until combined. Add your oats and chocolate chips and mix until incorporated.

Note: This is a pretty fool proof recipe. It's not fussy or temperamental. Add everything (in the order listed above) and enjoy.

If you are unlike me and want to bake them, set the over at 350 F and back for 12-15 minutes.

U.E.S. F!@$#$% My Life

I started reading my last blog entry and was horrified to realize that the number of obvious, glaring mistakes was beyond atrocious. In fact, with that number of mistakes, someone should have shouted at me "hey you, where did you learn to spell? Were you even shown how to construct a sentence?" The sad answer to these questions are a) I was never taught to spell (at least in the traditional sense) and b) what's sentence construction? There's a way to build a sentence? Go figure.

I lived in Calgary from the age of 0 to 9, and for the 4 years that I went to school there, I was an experiment. Instead of one, grade one class, we had 3, with an open concept classroom, and 3 different teachers. Above the giant classroom, there were one way mirrors for the university students to "observe" us. Our teachers had to wear a microphone while teaching us our ABC's and we would routinely have to sit in the halls with these so-called observers and speak/read into a microphone. The worst part was, they would play back our recordings and make us listen to them. The idea (be that from the teachers or the powers that be) was that we didn't need to learn how to spell or how to structure a sentence. Verbs and nouns, adverbs and pronouns had no place in the four (or maybe 12?) walls of our classroom. No sir, English was something that was to be taught through osmosis. Yup, you heard me, osmosis. I'm surprised they didn't make us sleep on our text books at night for enhanced learning and extra credit points. I was always a sucker for that little gold star...

Anyways, to further add to the whole experiment, we were provided with seriously dangerous recess activities that would never pass in today's kid-friendly world. For example, the flying fox was two pieces of wood, held together by a long cable, and we would ride the cable from one end to the other, by placing our tiny feet into a triangle type thing that hung from the cable. If we were really daring, we'd have our friends push us so we'd go faster. Oh the joys of being a kid in 1989.

I tell you all this for one reason: If you happen to be reading something I wrote (and I say thank you for that) and there is a glaring mistake, one that makes your eyes hurt and your brain cringe, please let me know. I know there aren't a whole lot of you who read what I write, but for my future well being and for all those who might read what I have to say, please inform me of my spelling and sentence structure faults. All I ask is that you be kind about it. Have pity on the girl who was an educational experiment.

Good I'm glad we got that out of the way! Onto other news, I was able to extract the cookie recipe from Ms. Elaine, which means that the goods, in all their shining glory, will be coming to a blog near you. I dare you, no wait, I double dog dare you, to try and stop after one spoonful of cookie dough. For those of you who can, you're a better person than I am.