It’s…beautiful. There are no other words for it. I walked into the kitchen today fully-prepared, but I couldn’t have prepared myself for something quite this good. And you can trust me on this, because I’ve had six children and none of them got this reaction out of me.
The kitchen is now a REAL kitchen. It’s even bigger than my one at home, and a lot more industrial, so I cannot WAIT to get started on cooking! We have an industrial-strength oven, and industrial-strength dishwasher…it’s all so powerful, sleek and shiny. And to think, this all came about via an anonymous donation.
Obviously, designer kitchen renovations were the first thing we thought of. Or rather, I…uh, forcefully stated that it was something we needed a bit more than the balcony. Now it almost looks a bit comical, this homely cafe with a relaxed vibe, and then you step into the kitchen and it’s like you’ve walked into the back of a three hatted restaurant. Quite the contrast, but I’m glad we chose the option!
And it’s what the mysterious person would’ve wanted, I think. They left a message with their anonymous donation saying that with the cafe being such a lovely place in the middle of nowhere, a meeting place for many, and also with Johnny having to deal with the whole abandoned child business, they wanted to give something back. So it’s probably a regular, but almost everyone is a regular, so that doesn’t help much. But if they DO come to the cafe, then they’ll want the most magnificent kitchen design Melbourne residents have ever laid their eyes on. The better the kitchen, the more plentiful and wonderful the goods flowing from it. No doubt my pastries, cakes and cookies will be twice as good now that our kitchen extensions have made things so much better. Well…maybe. It’s hard to improve on perfection, but miracles do happen.
One-and-a-half years into a psychology class, and I’m already basically a mental ninja. I can tell you ALL of your secrets, just from one conversation. I can evaluate a person’s mental state from how they drink their coffee. Their profession, by the very motion of them buttering their banana bread, or something whether they butter their banana bread at all, because if you’ve ever tasted or even looked at Olga’s special recipe, you know…there’s enough moist goodness in there already.
So when I’m not on the coffee machine, I’m often trying to people-watch with everyone that comes in here. Using my skills, you know. Sharpening my mind for when I’m fully-trained and I’m doing this for a job.
Just the other day I saw a girl drinking coffee and I thought she must be a hairdresser. St James’ place has a pretty well known salon that I’d been to a lot recently. I had to stop in because I was meeting a blind date and I suddenly got really paranoid about how my hair looked. Anyway, I noted the delicate movements used by hairdressers. You know the kind…they’re the ones you use when you’re incredibly experienced in doing something, and you do it with a casual, expert air. You know when hairdressers grab tufts of hair between their fingers and scissor them off? Perfect example of the motion. I observed, and I learned, and the date didn’t go so well (she was vegan, so all my restaurant options were out), but I feel like I learned a lot anyway. I saw this girl drinking coffee with her delicate touch and casual excellence, and I thought…hairdresser. Got to be.
So, anyway, she turned out to be a locksmith, but there are a LOT of transferable skills there, and she could easily transition into a hair salon. Melbourne has so many fantastic courses and training for hairdressing, anyone interested in the profession is spoiled for choice. If she so desired I’m sure she would make a very successful hair stylist. I’m still learning, so there’s room for error. Unlike when I’m a fully-fledged psychiatrist, when I’ll be a flawless mental mind ninja.
There’s always a nice community buzz whenever someone moves in around here. Part of what I like about the place, I think. Of course, it’s also the type of place where nobody ever leaves, so it’s doubly exciting for everyone. There’s that lovely old dear in the knitting supplies shop next door, the real estate agents, the alternative groceries and healing crystals shop…and now, some podiatrists. Very nice people as well; they’ve already started using the cafe as their personal breakroom, just like everyone else.
Used to know some foot specialists in Cheltenham, where my family first moved when we left Ukraine. This was years ago, so they’re probably all gone now. I remember being six years old and quite taken with the idea of someone JUST looking at feet for a job. Not sure we had that kind of thing where I was from. You just went to a doctor and you said what was wrong with you, and to be honest they usually just gave you a cream. There was some kind of…obsession with ointments while I was growing up.
I suppose seeing that Australia has podiatrists – actual people who dealt with feet, and foot problems – is a sign that we’ve moved to a better place. Or at least, a much richer place. That one is definitely true, or at least it WAS. Anyway, there’s a new podiatrist opened, they seem nice, and everyone is talking about it because of course they are, it’s new. New people, new office…and most people are never going to actually need treatment for foot fungus, or arch support insoles. But still, it’s the talk of the town for now. So long as the foot fungus talk doesn’t take over the cafe. It’s hard to enjoy a nice coffee while someone is chatting away about ingrown toenails. It’s the kind of thing that puts people off their vanilla slices…and I don’t lightly forgive anyone who doesn’t finish what’s on their plate, after I MADE it.