I was having these thoughts this morning as I was making pancakes for my man (apple, peach, pecan) and started toting up all of the bread products I have in the house. There were the pancakes, the naan I made to go with last night’s supper, the banana bread I made last week, the loaf of sourdough I had rising and, just in case we ran out of wheat related products- half a loaf of Killer Dave’s bread in the refrigerator.
This is not counting the crackers.
A Sunday. I woke up cranky. I’d had a dream where I was about to start 9th grade and then I realized that no, I really did not need to do that because I’d graduated from high school quite a long time ago. It was a relief to just walk out of that school. The crankiness came after I realized I was going to have to get a job to support myself and had no skills. Not that 9th grade was going to provide any of those.
But you know- life. I got up and made those pancakes and tended my chickens and when I reached into the little coop to help Dearie out she fluttered right into my hand and I kissed her little head and set her down by her chirping mama and they were off to do chicken things. It’s just about time for that little one to figure out how to get in and out of the baby coop herself.
A friend of ours whose car was totaled last week through no fault of her own was scheduled to come over to look at and drive my old Prius. Mr. Moon offered it to her because he knows it’s a good car and he loves to put people he cares about in good cars. So I had to clean out the red Prius and put my stuff in the white Prius and my husband said, “This one isn’t as big as your old one,” and as I put the kid booster seat that I’d bought for Gibson years ago into the car I said, “Who cares? My grandchildren will probably never get to ride in a car with me again,” and I teared up a little, thinking of how thrilling it was for August to sit in that booster seat and drive the two blocks to the dump with me and then to stop at the Post Office.
Dammit! If the Orange Dong had been half a leader and listened to the scientists and doctors and enacted the recommendations they were making back in Fucking February we might be over this shit.
No, no, no.
Anyway, our friend fell in love with the car. I think it will soon be hers unless the mechanic’s inspection reveals something untoward. I am so glad she’s going to get it and love it. I can’t think of one darn thing about that car that wasn’t absolutely lovely. As is our friend.
It was so good to see her.
And the rest of the day has been fine. Bean picking, crossword puzzle doing, clothes washing, and other stuff. I’ve picked an eggplant and a bell pepper to go into a sauce to be served tonight over ravioli, and the bread is in the oven. I wish I could post pictures. It’s an impressive loaf. It is one day closer to when my MacBook will be shipped and one day closer to me turning 66.
Age is only a number but dear god my numbers are wracking up alarmingly. Last year I spent my birthday on the road to Asheville with my love and it was perfect. I remember so much about it which is unusual. But hey! Here I am and I’m not really complaining. After all, I do not have to attend 9th grade again although I wouldn’t mind having a few of those hormones which were dancing about so freely within me in those days.
Oh hell. I have to make supper!