I have a few treasured items that have been passed down to me from family members.
An old wooden box from my grandmother’s childhood, used to store trinkets and treasures.
My mom’s mom’s cookbooks with hand-written notes in the margins and a full set of formal table linens.
The plastic container my dad stored iceberg lettuce in the entire time my sister and I were growing up.
This final item may be the most precious. This Tupperware was around long before I was and, most likely, will be around long after me, as is the nature of those lovely containers made decades and decades ago.
Going to NU did a lot of things for me. It cemented my love for Chicago. It gave me friends that are near and dear to my heart. It provided me with experiences that I wouldn’t have been able to get anywhere else – meeting people, attending events, and opening doors that would’ve been locked, dead bolted, and rigged with a trip wire had I not been a student.
Try as it might though, there is one thing NU failed at.
Getting me to be competent at “networking.”
Bleh! I hate that word! It feels so…dirty to me? Underhanded? Scheming? I know it’s not, I know it’s a vital and useful tool for people to pursue careers and personal achievements. I’ve just always felt like a big ol’ goober attempting to do it myself. No amount of mixers or job fairs or events ever changed that. I always ended up feeling like a greasy used car salesman.
Thankfully, my job is constant practice at meeting new people – starting conversations and establishing connections with anyone who walks in. I’m quite good at it, I enjoy it, revel in it. Dare I say, I thought I was becoming a…*gasp* networker!
And then…Seth and I went to Anew Emporium in Shawano and it all went to hell.
Anew is a lovely store downtown that sells tea and infused olive oils and vinegars and we will spend an entire afternoon there – try and tasting before making our purchases. I love it there. The owners are kind and excited about what they do – willing to offer help and answer any question. Being there makes my mind buzz with ideas – all of the different flavor combinations and recipes I want to try.
I’ve shared all this with Seth – the ideas I have, the food I want to make. He is on board. And I am grateful. A few weeks ago, I even brought up the idea of partnering with them in some way, shape, or form, tentatively asked him what he thought.
Tom Brady looks like a middle schooler with that haircut.
Do the helmets normally come off that easily?
*sharp inhale* Almost!
Why does JT look like some hipster from San Souci?
This wine is delicious.
Senorita, I feel for you. (Feel for youuuuuu.)
Wait. That was the quarterback who caught that? Cool!
I ate, I drank, I laughed with friends. All in all, a solid Sunday regardless of whoever won the Big Game. But now we’re back on that Monday grind and need to enjoy a big ol’ salad to celebrate the last of winter citrus and the end of Buffalo Chicken Dip/Football season.
What’s a BAS? Oh, just a Big Ass Salad. You know, one that doesn’t fit on a standard plate and really belongs in a mixing bowl. One so full of greens and veggies and fruits that it fulfills all daily nutritional requirements as advised by the FDA.
I can’t quite remember when it started to be an every day thing, but I think it was around the time I was working in an office, a tiny little cubicle, shoved in the corner with no windows and no desk mates.
I remember lunch being my favorite part of the workday. 30 minutes of freedom to go where I wanted, to sit in the sunshine and enjoy my meal. My meals started to consist more and more of vegetables because commuting for an hour each way and then sitting on my tush for eight hours a day took its toll.
I used to overfill Tupperware and then shove it in my backpack. Then I switched to big mason jars because sometimes I love hipster nonsense. I distinctly remember all my Tupperware and jars being dirty and taking a salad in a giant Ziploc baggie to work one day. Any way I could carry it, I was bringing a salad to the office.