Exit Plan C

I love holidays that don't require my presence in the corporate rat trap; especially when it snows or rains on those days, forcing me to lay in bed read, write, and bake copious amounts of breads, scones, cookies and the such. This President's Day is such a day. MBH and I were up at the crack of dawn to find that it had snowed 4" of big fluffy flakes during the night. While MBH showered, I prepared a beef stew for the slow cooker and fed the sourdough starter in preparation of making baguettes and sourdough blueberry muffins later this afternoon, the BBC World as my soundtrack. Katley sat on his "box" in the kitchen eyeing the chopping of rump steak with interest and hopes that a small bit might fall on the floor. Then, in the still quiet of the slightly growing morning light, we walked to the bus stop, kicking up clouds of fresh powder in our wake. Now, safely two cups of luscious creamy mocha into my day, NYT arts section read and Anthony Bourdain's excellent autobiographical "Kitchen Confidential" finished, I am ready to watch it snow through the windows of Dammits, watch people trudge in and shake snow from their coats, backpacks, and fleece hats and contemplate my actions of the weekend.

I have been feeling like I've been trapped on the inside lane of a roundabout and couldn't decide which road to get off onto. But today I turned the indicator on to merge off of this roundabout. It is both exciting and scary at the same time. I'm sure in the morning I'll smack my hand to my forehead and wonder what in heaven's name have I done. But right now, the pleasure and excitement of having finally made a decision about what to do next is very satisfying. So much so, I think I need another mocha to celebrate and spend the rest of the afternoon sketching out on my yellow pad of paper an outline to Plan D.