The Final Exam

In February, right when I was falling into the black hole of writing denial and temporarily abandoning my blog (lets just be blunt about it) I was soothing my Irish catholic guilt with the fact that I was too busy to blog. Please, I was preparing to graduate from the French Culinary Institute. After ten months and 600 hours of work, the home stretch needed all my attention! After long, busy days at the office, in the evening I would practice my sauces on the stove while something baked in the oven. I read my recipes over and over again and studied my plan of attack for the final exam, I was militant in my focus. Pastry dough first, start stock second, oven on and chop fast! I would keep one eye on the clock, and the proctors would be keeping an eye on me. Just slightly daunting for someone like me who disdains competition and pressure as much as a trip to the dentist. As the end of the month started to close in on me, I tried not to panic. I didnt want all my hard work to end on a bad note...I firmly told myself that there were worse things than if I didnt properly peel an onion or have the serving plate hot enough! I was going to bed every night envisioning myself presenting two perfectly plated, properly seasoned, on time delicacies. My biggest goal, I told myself, was to finish on time. Not to be one minute late presenting either plate, a serious deduction of points. Then I focused on the eight recipes that I could possibly get. I made my husband join me in pray every day as I stated my mantra, "please don't have me draw the slip of paper with consomme and pheasant", my two most dreaded dishes. The night of the final came and while I headed down to school on the subway, I closed my eyes and saw my dishes arriving on time, looking like they belonged on the cover of a French magazine. More importantly, I envisioned a consomme and pheasant free night. The world is my universe, I have all I want and need. It's all going to work outI was the master of my destiny, success and a toque were in my sights. Positive thinking all around. So, as I sat perched on an uncomfortable stool that snowy blustery Thursday night in school, as it came my turn, I calmly reached into the basket and grabbed my fate, slowly unfoldeding the little piece of white paper. Consomme and pheasant. What?? I literally gasped when I saw the typewritten words...how is it possible? This is ridiculous. Excuse me but did the universe forget about me and my NO pheasant or consomme guideline? I haven't read The Secret, but I get the basic prinicple. Hadn't I done my work, put my request faithly out there to avoid this? Where was my happy ending. I wasn't asking for money, perfect health or a miracle. Just no pheasant of consomme, excuse me for being so specific. I trudged into the kitchen for the final practical exam, cursing mind over matter, metaphysics, The Secret, and feeling just a little bit screwed.