Funnel Cakes and Second Degree Burns

Fresh from my brush with the Oompa-loompas in the Houseof Cocoa and Chocolate,  I checked my e-mail to discover that I had received my quarterly payment from Yahoo. 

There is a certain bipolar element to professional writing, if that is what you would call what I do.  Mostly, I write about experiences that I have enjoyed, or things that I have found thought-provoking or downright entertaining, in a way assisted by my own distorted internal monologue.  On most days, I post at least one story’s link to my Facebook page, asking family and friends to read my latest work.  A good portion of them tell me that they enjoy reading what I have written, but never enough to share with their own friends who don’t know me. 

The vast majority of this monumental body of work appears on my blog.  I’ve not yet made a penny from it, and I doubt that I ever will, but the blog gives me the freedom to write whatever I want, without being forced into a genre.

My secondary outlet is Yahoo Voices, which is what made today different.  About a third of my articles are eligible for upfront payment, and I receive $1.50 for every thousand page views.  This makes me a paid writer!  In the past three months, I have made $1.76, bringing my lifetime earnings (since April of 2008, when I first went pro) ever closer to three digits.  It’s elusive, but I believe I will make it there within five years, if I can catch a couple of lucky breaks, like the first sale I ever made – I was paid $15 to write a pamphlet about pre-paid credit cards.  It took me twenty minutes, and I thought, "Hey, this is going to be easy."  I’ve since put in hundreds of hours.

My lucky break wasn’t going to come on this day, since my pledge of support for my wife’s new hobby was taking up a bit more of my time.  We were heading to an event known as the “Embassy Games,” which here in Lima, is four consecutive weekends of soccer, volleyball, and a few other team sports.  Different agencies and work sections engage in a bit of trash talk, but it’s taken very seriously by some.  For me, it’s a way to meet people in other parts of the mission.

The hobby in question is neither volleyball nor soccer.  My wife has started a baking business.  It earns a bit of money here and there, but mostly it’s something for her to do, and she’s gotten quite good at it.  It’s been great for the whole family, since my kids grew up thinking that the smoke alarm going off meant that dinner was ready.

The bread and butter of this is homemade cookies, but lately she has gotten into various soups and stews.  I got the bright idea that she could make and sell funnel cakes at the embassy games.

Funnel Cake Recipe:

2 eggs          

1½ cups milk

2 cups flour

1 tsp baking powder

1 tsp salt

Mix batter and cook in hot oil.  Corn oil tastes better than vegetable oil, but olive oil won’t get hot enough.  Sprinkle with powdered sugar.  Makes about a dozen, depending on how big you want to make them.

We did sell a couple dozen to Americans, who longed for the carnival feel that walking around with a funnel cake gives you.  We discovered that Peruvians have no earthly idea what a funnel cake is, and since 80% of the embassy staff is Peruvian, most of her potential clients just walked on by.

While my wife was busy breaking even, I headed over to the volleyball court to round out a team from my section.  By “round out” I mean allow the group to meet the minimum number required to take the court.

Given my aversion to wearing shoes, and since flip-flops don’t work so well for volleyball, I played the game barefoot.  It was a slaughter.

Enter my next problem – I seem to have a fairly high tolerance for pain.  I realize that this is subjective, since it will never be possible for any one person to relate to the way another experiences pain, but I don’t usually let it bother me.  Pain is something that must either be ignored or worked through.  The pavement of the court was a bit hot, and by the time I had finished the second game, the soles of my feet were pretty red.  When I slid back into my flip-flops, I felt a large blister on the ball of each foot, about the size of a half-dollar.

I think I’m going to use my windfall to buy some burn cream.