Bun in the oven
I started baking at 8:15 in the a.m. this morning, didn’t stop till 2:30 in the arv.
2 loaves zucchini bread (cause I still have, like, loads of zukes in the fridge)
3 loaves of bread bread (1 for me, two for you)
1 squash galette (pronounced like the razor, and basically a free-form pie)
2 apple crisps (pish, tosh. why just make one?)
I left the remainder of the cut-into zuke loaf out on the counter with a welcome note on it for the Collector. I figured if I invited him to eat that, maybe he would leave the other things alone. In case that doesn’t happen, I gave myself a little insurance and hid the bread and crisp. Is it wrong to hide food from one’s lover?
My sister told my mom who told me today that if she lived near me she would just pop on over and say, “I’m here and I’m staying for the weekend. If you don’t like it, tough.” She’s been a confidant and major support for me recently as I navigate an unsavory emotional state. Her comment, in context, was delightfully warming.
So that got me to thinking that if I ever left Downeast Maine, wouldn’t it be so much nicer to be near family? I mean, not right near them. But closer. Like, maybe after traveling around Ireland for a year or two, I could try the Upper Peninsula. Back in the Midwest, still in the cold, still near the water, still blueberries and apples aplenty.
So that got me thinking that the end of the world is not imminent. There are palatable options if this one falls to my feet like a heavy wool skirt.