bread and butter

I made my way home with a tealight in a tumbler tonight. Once again I forgot my torch, or rather, once again I was sure I’d be home at some point during the day and left my torch on the floor. So tonight I stumbled half blinded by the tiny flame half blind in the darkness down the hill across the stream, up the hill and through the bananas to my little casita. There was a party which I was thinking of going to, but Norah appeared at Aria’s and it gave me a bit of an excuse for coming home. I’m glad actually, I’m tired. All I did today was make a path through the kindergarten yard, but I’m tired. Now there’s a big moth on my screen. There was a large praying mantis just by the light in kindergarten. I took a picture, I’ll see how fuzzy it is in the morning.

Aria and I are getting low on bread. It’s a rare commodity around here. The kitchens are wheat free, rather healthy. Last week a couple of ticos appeared in a truck with ‘German Bakery’ written on the side. For some reason they seem to think that German bakers are the best and always call themselves that, maybe that’s why the bakers in Watsonville were always ‘German’. Anyway they drove to the kitchen, and that was their mistake, after some minutes of waiting they were turned away. Aria and I were waiting in the car park and flung ourselves in front of the truck. They opened up the back and it was like an Aladdin’s cave: cream cakes, cheesecake, sticky buns, doughnuts, croissants, bread. It was daylight robbery, but it was good. The cream cakes were topped with fresh strawberries and pineapple, the doughnuts oozed jam, the croissants dripped chocolate. It all tasted divine, whether through the skills of the bakers or through deprivation, no matter. Sheer loveliness. We have about 6 slices of bread left, it’s getting a little stale now, a little dry around the edges. But it’s still bread, still stodge, still white flour, still processed, still delicious.