Tag Archives: cheese

Pay attention!

A quiet and hot California Sunday.  I have to force myself to get up this morning and make the long drive, but I’m glad I do. After all – man does not live by bread alone. Before I enter church, I stop in at the pre-school building, whose front door is open. The pastor’s wife and one of her daughters are pasting jellyfish made out of paper plates and tissue paper up on the ceiling. Lobsters and crabs made from kids handprints and footprints decorate the walls. A maritime theme! We briefly chat about the Monterey Bay Aquarium, the jellyfish providing the cue. It’s been so long since I have been there I  think and sigh.

The doors of the church have been kept shut for the past few days, so the sanctuary is pleasantly cool inside. It is a sparsely attended service. No surprise, it’s vacation time. The sermon today is about the parable of the sower. I have always liked it, and it is always a good reminder for me.

Half a BBQ chicken, a loaf of bread, and some cheese acquired from the supermarket afterwards, I then drive home and walk up to the apartment, where a sharp rebuke is issued to me by a hummingbird hovering near the feeder, which hangs close to the door.

I believe the context of the distinctly one-sided conversation may be interpreted as follows: “So, Sunday is the day of rest, huh? What about my feeder? Ten percent full! See! I might add the nectar is a bit stale too, and I do notice all the goodies you bought for yourself. So, if you don’t mind, kindly clean, and then refill my feeder, thank you very much”.

Right away, Ms. or Mr. hummingbird, and please do accept my sincere apologies for the oversight!

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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.