Go To Medical School, Become A Baker

i sometimes wish i was a baker. that, instead of being immensly in debt towards a science degree, i had taken out a loan and bought a bakery. and i would get up at five in the morning to have the bread in the oven, and while the dough was proofing, i would be mixing cookies, icing cakes, and filling pies. and i would have the hum of the convection ovens and my crazy alterna-rock to keep me company. and maybe i would hire some teenagers to work for me in the summer, and my brother and sister. dana would help me in the back and callie could work the front, selling the pastries with her good looks. and i would have a hand in all of teh celebrations in town, weddings, birthdays, graduations, whatever. and people would come back for my key lime pie and i would say the secret ingredient is love, when the secret ingredient is really condensed milk. and i would wear whites to match the white of the trade: white kitchen, white flour, white sugar, white eggs, white cream, white butter, white icing. and i would be known for the light dusting of flour that was ever present on my arms and face, dusting me like so many loaves of bread or cookies. and i would put every ounce of care i have into my pastries, my cookies, my cakes, my apple turn overs, my cobblers and pies. and i would take all of the things i have learned about baking from my parents, and everything i have taught myself and create original desserts, that people would like, but not as much as my key lime pie. i would be quiet, and let the work speak for itself, and i would be happy. i would make vegan desserts, too, and i would be known for the quality of my food. i would make any requests people wanted, in any volume. i sometimes wish i was a baker.