But on this Saturday morning I was feeling nothing other than peace and contentment to be where I was and to be doing what I was doing.

Well, here I am reinventing myself– again–. For anyone who hasn't heard, I've started my bread business. I'm getting a banner made for my little card table that I take to the Farmer's Market. I'm calling my business SHOAF'S LOAF ORGANIC.

I get a kick out of the people who come to my table at the Farmer's Market. Every now and then a quick witted soul will ask me about my name. "Now, are you Shoaf?"

I'll tell them that I am.

"Well, I guess you didn't have much choice in naming your bread business did you?"

How many people have a last name that rhymes with loaf?

I feel better about this business than any money making venture I've ever been involved in. In fact, I've been totally lousy at so many jobs I've had that I really don't want to think about it. I'm definitely not good at waiting tables. I really am not that good at landscaping and garden design. I'm ok, but I'm a one style kind of designer. If somebody wants something non-traditional I'm lost. Plus, most of my landscaping experience involves my own yard and I believe it was difficult for me to think big. I could have if I'd had the right mentor, but that didn't happen. I like to think I'm where I am and where I am is where I'm supposed to be.

I've put landscaping behind me.

Unlike certain aspects of landscaping, I'm very confident in my ability to bake bread. I've been doing it for over 30 years. I even underestimate the ability I have, I think. I have yet to teach anyone how to make a pan of rolls that suit me. They have to be uniform in size and folded just right. They need to be baked exactly the right length of time so that the tips are beginning to brown but not the whole roll.

It's very hard work. I saw a friend of mine down at the Market on Sat. He's a caterer. I was carrying on about how well he was doing in his business and he gave me this strange look. "What?" I asked him. "Aren't you doing well?"

"Yes, I guess, but man, it's such hard work. I mean, I work so hard."

And I could see it in his face. I could hear it in his voice. I knew exactly what he was saying. I could see him standing over a vast array of trays, intricate hand made appetizers, hundreds of them all needing to go out onto the floor at the same time and getting everybody organized not even to mention all the running around to grocery stores and markets before hand to get the ingredients all in the right proportions. Made me tired just to think about it.

I suppose everybody who owns their own business lives in parallel universes; one that cherishes independence, being her own boss, experiencing and nurturing the entrepenurial spirit, and the other, working long exhausting hours, aching bones, fear of failure and wanting to just draw a regular paycheck like everybody else.




Martha's such a hard worker. She'd finished an exhausting schedule at her job with television production. She got tot he kitchen a little after 4 am and had a job interview later on in the day.

I felt terrible about seeing my baby so tired, but she got through it with the help of Tamara who arrived at around 6:30am and helped clean the kitchen and slice the bread and bring the rest of the bread down to me at the Market.

I arrived at 7:30am. That's the earliest I've ever made it. When I pulled into the parking lot I looked up and saw the City of New Orleans was still in the station.

I opened the door to my car and stood staring at the silver train perched 20 or so feet above me. I could see heads at the windows but no faces. A strong, healthy breeze pushed against my skin, played with my skirt, reminded me through smells and speed that the Mississippi River was right over the bluff.

It isn't the same, the thought of getting onto a train and going down to New Orleans, but sameness is an illusion if you really stop to think about it. Everything is in flux, constantly changing, being born, dying, being built, decaying, and I tell my heart this when I think about New Orleans.

I'll be going down soon to see Sarah who's moved back and maybe I'll take the train.

I give a nod, a blessing of godspeed to the City of New Orleans and consider myself most fortunate to have glimpsed this quiet little reality the beats in our nation's heart and flows like blood from Chicago to the Gulf of Mexico every single day.