Whisk oct. 09
Dust motes sift through sun streaked windows illuminating the last items I’m removing from my kitchen. My feet move slightly to echoes of Kat Einhorn’s “Dance in the Kitchen with Me” as a thousand memories flash through my mind’s eye. Life is lived largely in the kitchen. Life changes often begin here and it is generally the last place spent in the house.
In the final moments in my darling little Portland Bungalow I am readying hundreds of little treats for a fair far away in a little town that is about to become my new home. As much as I love this, my first home of my own, I long for the adventure I’m about to take on. I will soon own my very own café. I know what I want to serve people there but first I must know what they want to have so today in addition to a couple hundred Angel’s Kisses, Devil’s Tongues and Espresso Shortbread Bars I have 200 surveys I hope people will fill out as fair exchange for a free pastry. The Angel’s kisses are small mounds of meringues flavored with vanilla with finely chopped toasted hazelnuts folded into them. The Devil’s Tongues are sweet and hot whole pecans that reminded me of forked tongues and the shortbread bars are loaded with instant espresso and have a coffee bean pressed into the center for extra kick. Packing them into the car is bittersweet. On one hand the gesture represents a giant step forward in my life; other than marriage, it is the biggest leap by far but I have to harden my heart before getting the car into reverse or I’ll never be able to leave my little house surrounded by a thousand hours of plantings that colorfully surround the house’s foundation and grounds. How I manage I do not know but I am distracted as I pull into the street and my precariously balanced fare shifts.
The car is halfway into the street with the front tires still grasping the last foot of my driveway. The cats that had been settled while waiting for me to leave the house are starting to shift and if they get into the back they’ll walk all over the food. I hate transporting food. I never have the right containers and today I have no space. The trays are all sliding off of the last items I packed into the car and there isn’t anything holding the food onto the trays so it’s total chaos. If not for a flimsy layer of plastic wrap holding tight, I’d have hundreds of delicate little morsels flung into ever nook and cranny of this car. I don’t even have the heart to straighten up the mess here, I need some distance from my house first. I’ll fix it all when I stop for gas.
Exiting the city is usually such a relief. I long for the quiet of the country, for less chaos and stimulus and this is the last time I will leave the city as a resident here. This exit is to find a new home so my anticipation blocks the usual relief. Today, I will be handing out my now rumpled treats to anyone willing to fill out my survey. The surveys will tell me if my plan for the café is a good fit for my new community.
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