Here's a sample webpage from an imaginary food blog I'd love to make. It's simple now, but it's also written by a new coder who just barely finished the Lambda School pre-course for Web Dev. I'm excited for having been able to do this much already, and can't wait to see how much I can learn & how vastly my code can improve over the next year. ... Yes, it is styled after the gorgeous norecipes.com to start. One month ago I knew nothing about programming except that it was complicated and looked like an alien language. Times have changed & courtesy of Covid-19, my job dissapeared with slim chances of a similiar position becoming available. (Support your local small businesses, especially now, because Corona hit many of 'em hard, and it'll take a long time for many to recover!) The upside was that I got a chance to really consider learning some pogramming and taking the next step towards my ideal work life. I've got that pipe-dream of wanting location-independence & the ability to either work part-time or with lots of time off from work. & I had the privelege of chattting with a friend in nearly that situation who was (surprise!) a programmer working for a company where he has a good bit of job flexibility. BAM!!! Dream job discovered! Now just to actually learn coding & work my ass off to get good enough to replicate his success & put my own twist on it. Luckily, both the friend & my husband are alreaady professional programmers of very different sorts, and were able to point me to the Lambda School. The husband has been planning to take the data science program and change his own career trajectory, but Covid-19 threw a wrench in our plans so now I get to try first. TLDR:; I'm excited to learn a new skill set & bust ass for a few years till I can create my dream position. & I'm crazy curious how by background of Nutrition Science, Personal Chef'ing, and Retail Management can all tie together going forward.
Ron was one of those guys who sticks in your memory. Not because he's loud & boisterous, but because his thoughtful actions just impact you far longer than you'd expect. Most of our couchsurfers had some fun quirk that really cements them into our memories; but for the life of me, I can't tell you what Ron looked like. I remember he was Filipino, purely bc we talked about learning to make Adobo. I talk about food to most folks I meet, because lets be honest, food is all that & the bag of chips. Growing up in the military, Adobo was one of my favorite childhood meals. Our culturally-smashed family cooked and ate dishes from across the globe. And that simple stew of meat, acid, & aromatics was always high on the list of everyone's favorites. Eventually, Mom got her version down pat & could cook it off the cuff, no sweat. Most of my childhood dishes, I've made my own over the years. But for some odd reason, adobo alluded me. I would overcook the chicken, skew the liquid ratios, unbalance the simple flavors, & all sorts of flavors. Dozens of recipes were discarded over the years, and for once Mom's instructions weren't helping. Luckily Mom was only a drive away & loved an excuse to cook for her grown kids.
And then Ron came to town. I was still in the townhouse downtown, living with 3 frat guys who couldn't quite figure out what to do with my recently out self inviting strangers to couchsurf. Admittedly, we met the coolest folks from around the world, but it probably wasn't what they originally signed up for. As usual, Ron & I get to chatting about life & stories and food. And food & childhood favorites & cooking fiascos. Chances are good I admiteed to wrangling dormmates to make enough lumpia to feed 60 young adults, with none of us actually having ever made lumpia before or realizing how many rounds of frying that would entail. Or about how we'd just figured out a paleo version of pancit, that really is as wierd as saying pasta al peppe without the pasta. I know for a fact that we definitely discussed my ineptitude at one of the easiest & tastiest of dishes that we both adored: Adobo. Ron had learned his family's recipe growing up & couldn't believe I had such a hard time with such a simple dish. It was a small part of a long conversation, and for the life of me I can't remember what else we talked about. What did I cook for dinner that night? How long did he stay? Where was he coming from? Why was he in Reno? I've no clue. All he left behind was a peice of paper torn from a grocery store paper bag.
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