I decided that mine would be a) female and b) called Gill. You and your ChatGPT?

@Goose Dunlavey @Rositsa Aleksandrova @Angelika Vetter In another group there was a Challenge: Connection ~ Connect Deeper! I know I have only interacted with a few of you...I thought of a "sorta" late Intro to who I am... ========================================================================== The Heat Never Left: How a Chef’s Fire Became a Copywriter’s Craft The first kitchen I ever worked in smelled like steel, ambition, and the sharp heat of eagerness—that restless hunger to prove I belonged. Fryers hissed like impatient dragons, pans clanged a language only the tired could understand, and the ticket printer spat out orders faster than any sane person could breathe. Somewhere in that chaos, I learned the first real truth of craft: you don’t rise because you’re comfortable; you rise because you stay. Lesson One: The Kitchen Never Leaves You Those twelve-hour shifts carved something permanent into me. You start each day the same way—hands on steel, eyes on flame, a prayer that the rush won’t break you before the dinner crowd. You measure your worth in plates returned empty and compliments you’ll never hear because you’re already plating the next order. But when you live long enough in that kind of intensity, something happens: the line between instinct and identity disappears. Timing, patience, presentation—they’re no longer techniques; they’re reflexes. You begin to hear the rhythm of service in your pulse, the cadence of creativity in the scrape of a spatula. Craft becomes muscle memory. Service becomes instinct. Once you’ve learned to give your all, you never unlearn it. Years later, when life pulled me away from the burners and the shouting and the rush, I thought I’d left that world behind. But the kitchen never really leaves you. It lingers— like smoke in your clothes, like grit in your soul. And eventually, it whispers: Find another fire. Lesson Two: The Bridge Between Two Worlds