A Great, a Small, Caper
In my continuing vein of food, I decided to spring forward with brunch.
Yesterday I had bought a new set of dinnerware. This morning I rolled over in sunlight and tried to read The Metaphysical Club and realized I felt simpler and more bodied, more connected and less seeking, that I had trouble with my eyes focusing. I woke up with specific hankerings.
I washed a plate and a mug. I went to the grocery. I came home and tore things, spooned things, warmed things, folded things -- did what I am learning to call cooking. I made an omelette with fresh spinach, green olives, tomatoes, and feta cheese. I had two onion bagels with cream cheese, capers, and smoked salmon. I had hot rooibos tea, which tends to soothe me.
I ate on the porch and kept the French doors open, blasted Tegan and Sara, ate with my ankles crossed on the chair across from me.
Across the street, there is a huge courtyard apartment building. I saw that a young couple had had a similar idea: They had pulled their plastic kitchen table and chairs (green) out to the elevated corner of the plot, overlooking Poplar Avenue, in the shade of a scrawny but determined tree, and were lifting their forks and mugs to their faces, talking quietly. I whistled, smiled, ate my own.
Yesterday I had bought a new set of dinnerware. This morning I rolled over in sunlight and tried to read The Metaphysical Club and realized I felt simpler and more bodied, more connected and less seeking, that I had trouble with my eyes focusing. I woke up with specific hankerings.
I washed a plate and a mug. I went to the grocery. I came home and tore things, spooned things, warmed things, folded things -- did what I am learning to call cooking. I made an omelette with fresh spinach, green olives, tomatoes, and feta cheese. I had two onion bagels with cream cheese, capers, and smoked salmon. I had hot rooibos tea, which tends to soothe me.
I ate on the porch and kept the French doors open, blasted Tegan and Sara, ate with my ankles crossed on the chair across from me.
Across the street, there is a huge courtyard apartment building. I saw that a young couple had had a similar idea: They had pulled their plastic kitchen table and chairs (green) out to the elevated corner of the plot, overlooking Poplar Avenue, in the shade of a scrawny but determined tree, and were lifting their forks and mugs to their faces, talking quietly. I whistled, smiled, ate my own.