Seven Days in Orange
Carolyn fingered the thick white linen tablecloth, admiring how it stood out so dramatically against the deep red plush carpet. And the silver! How it shone and looked so rich, so regal. It was with great sadness that she drew out her plastic pill case and placed it on the table. The garish orange plastic infected her view with tackiness and suddendly the expensive restaurant looked more like a casino diner in Reno. Carolyn dumped out the contents of Tuesday into her soup spoon, snapped the case shut, and dumped it into her purse.
By the time her coffee and cheesecake arrived, Carolyn felt at home again in elegance. She took up her first pill and glass of water, but paused just before she brought the pill to her tongue. Carolyn put them both down and took up her soup spoon of pills. She stuck them in her piece of cheesecake. When she was done, it was studded with three blue circles, a red oval, two white hexagons, and two peach pentagons. The cheesecake was delicious, depite the uncharacteristic crunching.
Today is a bread day. I made bread for the first time a few weeks ago, and just fell in love with it. I wish I’d discovered earlier the sound dough makes when you punch the air out of it. After a good loaf of white bread and a batch of hot cross buns, I’m going to try my hand at challah.
Have you been to the Lee Bontecou exhibit at the MCA? Go. Post-apocalyptic space vehicles or primordial crustaceans? You make the call.
Comments are off for this post
