It is 8:30 Sunday evening, and I don’t have a Middle Passages post written for Monday. Twelve hours from now, I’ll be doing a quick volunteer stint at the senior breakfast before rolling into the cheese shop for an eight-hour gig. Me-thinks I should have thought of Middle Passages earlier today—considering the eyelids are already dropping. But I didn’t, and here I am.
So, this is what I’ll give to you:
Things learned over the weekend:
Ironing your pants (a novelty for me) before a busy Saturday in the cheese/gourmet food store, guarantees you’ll spill an entire container of red and yellow beets, flavored with ginger and cilantro. The contents of said dish will miss your full length apron, land directly on the pants and splatter all over your most comfortable work shoes. The ceramic “Made in Italy” bowl they were in will smash—all this while you are trying to sell “truffle white beans” to the gaping customers standing in front of you.
Definition of a hollow victory: when you close the cover on the book recommended on a Boston Globe Columnist's “must read” list you’ve been struggling to finish for three weeks, and the only thing you can say besides “Thank God,” is: “I understand why he recommended it—the description is some of the best ever, but the story is horrible, horrible, horrible.”
Even though your house is in full-shade for most daylight hours this time of year, it’s important to remember that in less-treed areas, the sun still climbs warm and high. A sweatshirt-less trip around the harbor, and through September rollers in the twelve-foot dinghy is one of the best ways to celebrate the end of summer. Encountering your brother-in-law hauling traps and acquiescing to his offer of six lobsters in trade for a container of homemade bisque works well too. (The "bugs" are cooked and in my fridge. Anybody have a good recipe?)
Pot roast tastes especially flavorful when you are craving it and arrive at the store to find it on sale. Sharing it with cousins who live next door, makes it even more delicious.
There you go. Wash me up and hang me out to dry. That’s all I’ve got for tonight.