All Good Things....

...must come to an end.

Well, folks. It looks like The Dungeon will be shut down at the end of this month. The fucking dilapidated castle that houses the Dungeon is going to be sold, and I will be without kitchen or home.

I wish I could say I was desperately upset and panicked. I really don't know what I'm feeling right now. I knew something was going down at home. I knew things were being discussed in hushed tones and with all the fighting going down amongst everyone, the tension was fucking unbearable. No wonder I've been finding every reason imaginable not to come home. Beer groups, movies, sushi for one...You name it; I was there. Anywhere but here.

Anyway, the "big news" was dropped last night. Maybe Heir Ricky expected a huge response or tears or begging. That wasn't happening. With stupid excuses about money issues, a thing my parents have struggled with as far back as I can remember, and his failing health (yet again), good old dad pretty much laid it down that he was done. Giving up. He doesn't want the responsibility of the mortgage, mounting bills, and maintenance on his shoulders anymore. If you ask me, he has not done a good job on any of that for many years, anyway.

So, forgive my indifference. With one fucking disappointed handed to me after another on a silver platter like a 5-star culinary extravaganza, there's very little that can happen to me now that can rattle me any more. If I must go down, it won't be with tears in my eyes.

I remind myself time and time again that you can't map out your life like the itinerary of a vacation. You can anticipate the worst, set lofty goals, and hope and pray that you're prepared to handle whatever comes your way. This is what's coming my way now.

I have to sort through the material junk I've accumulated the last 32 years of my life and decide what's worth keeping and tossing. I have to find a new place to live, even though it's 6 months earlier than I anticipated. My Dungeon will be disassembled and placed somewhere safe until I can reestablish it elsewhere or I find a buyer willing to pay me a fraction of what my equipment is worth.

Don't worry about me. I'm okay. I'm always okay. I used to look around me and envy those who always managed to land on their feet; whatever had befallen them. Whether or not they prepared. Whether or not they were "good" people. (According to me, anyway.) Then, I looked in the mirror and realized I've always landed on my feet, too.

Shit, I've been through the ringer. I've had more crap happen to me than I care to remember, but here I am. I'm still the kind-hearted, honest person I was always proud to be. And despite all the disappointments, I've learned that I can still love with my entire heart- as though it had never been broken. Ain't that some shit?

Queenie Cakes isn't the roof it exists under. It isn't the shiny new Kitchen Aides, or the pretty new boxes, or even the beautiful logos or labels. Queenie Cakes isn't about having a thousand customers or a hundred customers. If I have only one; my business is still relevant to someone. Queenie Cakes won't be defined by a piece of paper saying someone owns this much of it or that much of it. Queenie Cakes is me. It always has been. It always will be. No matter where I go, no matter what I end up doing, when I put the flour and sugar together and create my "awesome", Queenie Cakes is alive and well.

So, please don't worry about me. I'll figure it all out one way or another.

Thank you all for your kind words, your constant support, and your jokes to make me laugh during all those times I wanted to cry. My friends, you always remind how strong I am and how good I am at saving myself. Your sentiments have not been lost on me. There will be no pity party thrown on my behalf, okay?

Things will be just fine. They always are.

Much love,
~Katherine