Food Handling

What a difference a year makes eh?

Last year about this time I was pushing for answers about where I’d end up.

It became Portland by default. I didn’t mind but it was nerve- racking but still fun and different.

Living at my cousin’s house, smoking out with my little brother every day and just playing video games.

I’d written my first book last summer, but I was also busting my ass at Chili’s also, working with stupid hick kids and even dumber management.

I’d even ran into a couple of girls I’d kicked it with in high school, back in my old hometown of Cedar Hill, Texas.

Its still a strange sensation riding my bike across Peoria towards my apartment and seeing downtown and realizing how much has transpired since last year, when I was sitting on my front porch shirtless and listening to the Dead, taking midnight walks across town.

I didn’t work for a couple of months after Chili’s then I moved here to Tulsa, got a job at Whole Foods, and then at my current gig.

I’m not that far removed from working retail and in the service industry. If I could have my druthers I wouldn’t go back, but still I had to get my food handler’s permit.

I thought this was stupid at first, a way for the state to get more money, but it wasn’t half bad.

The lady doing the class was fairly funny and I even learned a little bit.

Now I think every state should require this class. I didn’t learn anything earth shattering but it did remind me of some things I’d forgotten and confirmed stuff I’d suspected was true.

It made me consider how much better a home cooked meal is than eating at a restaurant. At least you know who’s handling food in your own kitchen.
I’m not saying I’m gonna stop going out to eat altogether and it may not change too much about handling food, I will say that its making me think twice about performing analingus on someone ever again. That’s how you get hepatitis.