the stuff that dreams are made of

It's been a few months since I last put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, and recorded anything here. I have a few things I want to write about, but tonight life jumped in the way, so here is a new post, on a topic that has little to do with the Navy or with food. Or maybe everything to do with it.
I've just returned from a benefit for a non-profit called Our Time, which helps kids who stutter. They use the arts to help kids improve their confidence and communications skills. Tonight's honoree was Carly Simon, who wrestled with stuttering as a child. As we sat in the theater before the show began, they piped in her music. Many familiar tunes filled the space, and filled my memories. I remembered being a kid listening to my sisters' James Taylor albums on which Carly Simon sang background vocals; I remembered being in high school and listening to "That's the Way I Always I Heard it Should Be" oh maybe 30 times a night. And then they played "It's the Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of," which came out in 1987, the year I began my career in the Navy, and I remembered everything.
Today I took the train uptown and worked in a cafeteria kitchen on the Upper West Side, preparing a healthy cole slaw for the salad bar and doing some other things for the lunch. Then I went downtown and picked up ingredients and headed back uptown, this time to the way Upper East Side, in the area where the million dollar apartments give way to the projects. I taught a class in the after school program that I've been part of since last fall. As I walked up Madison Avenue to the school, there was a special thrill in passing some of the students from one of the classes and having a moment of recognition on the street. After the clas was over, it was back downtown and on to the concert.
In these posts I'm trying to chart the transition from sailor to culinarian, what I wanted to do when I left active duty. As I sat in the theater tonight I realized that the big things that I've always wanted - to be involved in a philanthropy, to be a teacher, to have a cozy home and to be happy - are what I have right now. This post is a simple thank you to the universe for giving just what Carly describes in her song, the stuff that dreams are made of.
PS, I write this with deep apologies to Mrs Wiser, teacher of 11th grade English, who had us keep a journal and who would mark "DD" on entries that smacked too much of Dear Diary. All I can say is, What's a girl to do?!