14 Cookies ?

Oozing out of bed like a banana slug this morning, I get ready for church, toasting some bread which is topped with mayo and smoked turkey. Two pit stops: the first is at Peet’s coffee, where I intend to purchase my favorite Sunday drink: a small café au lait with plenty of milk and whipped cream on top (lots). Since the cup would be lonely by itself, I order a Florentine cookie from the barista to keep it company. The barista leans forward and says: “What?  14 cookies?” Er, no – a Florentine not 14. I am soft-spoken but that was quite a stretch – 14. It appears a bit greedy too – I’m glad matters are settled quickly.

Stop No. 2: the bakery. A long line snakes out the door and to the side along the sidewalk. The line advances footstep by footstep. I see a little girl sitting behind the window and I softly tap on the window: tap tap tap. As I do, I quickly put my arm to the side and turn my hand to look straight ahead. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her turn and look outside, most likely wondering where the errant woodpecker might be. The third time she catches me, confirming the oversize woodpecker and laughs. I wave at her.

I arrive in front of church and settle back in the car, sipping my coffee amidst alternating bites of the Florentine cookie before going in. I’m still a bit sleepy, but then I have to laugh, as I see a potted plant sitting directly in front of me on the hood of a car. The car has most definitely seen better days, but I don’t think it is abandoned. This will remain a mystery as the car is gone when I come back from a quiet Labor Day service.

Have a blessed Sunday

Late Summer Chili

Although chili con carne tends to disagree with me, we do on occasion come to a mutual meeting of the minds, or the stomach, as the case may be.  I pull up to the Wendy’s Drive Thru to once again argue with my stomach. Normally one is first greeted and then prodded to try the latest menu offerings, but surprisingly, I am only asked what I would like to order. “A large bowl of chili please,” I say to the voice behind the speaker “With onions, cheese, and sour cream”? “Yes please — that’s the best way to eat chili, I respond. “$2.99 at the window please”, says the voice behind the speaker. “Oh, and some ice water too”, I add. I loosen my seat belt and dig through my left pocket, which is kind enough to dispense three crisp dollar bills. I pull up to the window and the girl with the headset gives me a cup of ice water and a straw. With patient anticipation, I wait for the second part of the order. After a few minutes, she hands me a bag with what I presume is the chili inside and says: “aquí está”. Her supervisor who is standing behind her smiles at me and asks: “speak Spanish”? The girl is a little befuddled, as she realizes she has spoken in Spanish to me. I just laugh and the supervisor’s smile grows bigger. “Poquito”, I exaggerate, as the chili and I happily head home together.

The Missing Sock

Well, the washer in the apartment complex is still out-of-order, so the laundromat it is once again. As I set my basket on one of the numerous large washing machines that crowd the laundromat, something catches my eye: a small sock imprinted with the word “LOVE” in big, bold, colorful letters, sitting on top of one of the washers. Its partner however is nowhere to be seen — perhaps it is hiding in one of the dryers. Whose tiny feet belong to this sock?

After I load the laundry and feed the machine with its various demands for detergent and quarters, I head across the street to get a free smoothie, for which I have a coupon. Smoothies to me, are like light to a moth.

After the washing machine finishes its duty I dump the laundry back in the basket, to take it to the apartment where it will hang outside on the clothesline for the sun to dry it.

It is one day after Earth Day: my son Christian picked a fine day to celebrate his birthday. I called him yesterday and we had a nice long talk. (Yes indeed — the astute reader has noticed — this post was supposed to appear in April — we are indeed a bit late). I received an interesting link from him via e-mail after our chat: a link to the music of the composer Holst, who I was not familiar with. Holst wrote music about some of the planets, but poor Pluto has been ignominiously ignored once again. My friend Gary was familiar with those compositions. Naturally — he is a musician. I much prefer Bach or Mozart though.

Making a rather abrupt transition from planets to food, I recently remembered that my mom used to prepare  butter lettuce with lemon juice, when I saw some lettuce at the market. Since a few lemon are sitting on my kitchen table doing nothing, the plan for tonight is to replicate this recipe. My juicer however resides in a storage locker, so I decide to go and free it from its imprisonment and put it to good use.

Also on the dinner menu for tonight is baked whole chicken. Calvin my cat, as he likes to do, has snuck in the kitchen once again, and is observing my doings at the counter, I feel his presence, and turn around to see him looking at me. Good timing buddy. He is rewarded with the chicken livers. Bon appetit! You are lucky, I will have to wait another hour or so for my share of the chicken.

Have a quiet blessed Sunday.



New eBook


My book “Sea Shells, C’est Gratuit”, is now also available as an eBook.

You can find it here at  Amazon.com.

Thank you once again to Sleeping Cat Books (a business that has been fully approved by my cat Calvin, and who would also not be adverse to receiving promotional consideration for his endorsement in the form of a can of sardines or tuna), for doing such a fine job converting the book into an eBook.