So, the culmination of this fantasy/nightmare class is the graduation banquet. We are to cook and serve the most elegant of tasting menus to our guests.

I can’t vouch for the food or the wine, but, it’s my graduation. So, since you’ve been forced to go along on the ride of this long-winded journal… it’s the least I could do to invite you.

So, the invites will arrive in the next few days. It’s $85 a plate, and although the net proceeds go to charity, I think it’s an exorbitant amount.

Please don’t feel compelled to come.  I know you all support me in everything I do. Whether it’s changing a diaper, changing a tire or changing my life, I am “truly blessed” to have such a great support system.

The best thing about being surrounded by people who tell you that “you’re not living up to your true potential” is that you can make them a sandwich, and they’ll tell you that you’re a ‘genius’. Nice.

Just a perk I guess of being a professional failure.

So, blah blah blah. The invites are out.

I hope you all come, and I hope no one comes.

I’m shy and nervous and stressed.

It could go either way.

Meanwhile. I’m just proud that for the first time in ten years…  (Hannah’s shoving her lollipop in my face, “Look Mommy. Purple. It’s purple. See the purple. Thank you mom, mom it purple. Yay.)

I’ve done something for me. As small as it is, it’s huge.