The other half of happiness.

I’ve been home for a week. Well, come tomorrow it will be a week. 

I feel like it has gone so fast and I’m becoming very anxious about how I’m going to schedule my remaining two weeks before I need to go back to school for three weeks of fencing. Yes. Three weeks consisting only of fencing. No classes. No clubs. No assignments. Just fencing; five days a week, six hours a day. 

Anyway, this week has been filled with work. As soon as my mother could put an apron on me, I was in the bakery filling cannolis and carrying trays and doing anything and everything my mom barked at me. The holidays are always very busy for the bakery, as I’d imagine every store is busy. The preparation for the bombardment of customers that will arrive on Christmas Eve and stragglers of Christmas Day is tedious and long. We stand for a majority of the day, only bending our knees to sit for lunch, squat down for something, use the stairs, or take a bathroom break. Constantly being on your feet can take a toll on your feet and legs. My feet are pretty sore and my shins have inconsistently been giving me problems for the last few months. I’ve resorted to wearing these clunky clogs in an effort to sustain the well-being of my lower limbs. 

The days are long, and I marvel at the dedication of my mother, uncles, brother, and some of the other girls and guys that are there before opening to midnight, roughly hours 7 AM to 12 AM and sometimes later. Even though I came to work late today (11 AM), I still managed to fit in 12 hours. You are constantly moving, constantly stacking or filling or carrying or painting or rolling or cupping or sugering something. It’s constant. 

There is something about repetitive, manual work that I like. I would prefer to stack cookies than to talk on the phone with costumers. I like to think of myself as the packing mule; the one doing all the handy work and filling in the gaps where a worker is needed. It’s an Renaissance-Man sort of job. I work the men’s table (old traditions remain, but can be broken), I buttercream cakes, I bring things to the post office, I wing butterflies and soak babas. I learn to do a little bit of everything. Well. Not everything. I’m not very good with working the counter. I stay away from the counter on the holidays. People get a little scary when it’s Christmas Eve and they want their lobster tails. Really want them. 

Meh. My computer is dying. I’m sleepy. I just want to talk to my girlfriend and make time to see her and see my other friends and get some fencing in and maybe go to the gym a few times and visit my high school properly and other things. But for now, I’ll just sleep. Because before you know it, it’s going to be 6:30 AM and I’ll be in my apron and chunky clogs by 7 AM, filling cakes. 

On the bright side, there are really only three more days of bakery madness.