It was an ordinary day, in the way that all our ordinary days are filled with small miracles (SMs) and screw ups (SUs) we hope no one notices.
It started with Rick serving orange juice, toast, and eggs sunnyside up on authentic (Costco) home-baked hash brown patties: piping hot and as if McDonalds had recently changed their deep fat fryer oil.
Not that we’d know about such things. Just guessing.
The bread (SM) was from my baking yesterday.
It was not ordinary.
I’m embarrassed to say because I feel I’m a more humble baker than this, but it was FREAKING perfect. Crust 18 layers deep but only 1/8th of an inch thick. Crumb to make Mrs. Patmore weep. Able to absorb triple its weight in butter.
Give us this day our daily bread, hallowed be your name, etc.
The eggs weren’t ordinary, either, unless you live in a world where fresh duck eggs, bought yesterday from the hobby farmer neighbour and almost 75% bigger and twice as nutritious (SM) as chicken eggs are normal fare at your breakfast table.
How have we lived this long (collectively, almost 120 years!) and not once have either of us eaten a duck egg until this morning? Rick was a little worried he wouldn’t care for them, as he doesn’t like goat products.
This will make perfect sense to those of you who like some (but not all) foods to be consistent with the standard bearers of their grocery aisles.
Creamy, intensely flavorful in a non-goatlike manner… They were the Rolls-Royces of breakfast eggs, and calorie for calorie, about half the price as their free-roaming happy chicken counterparts.
Like all ordinary days, not everything rolls out with edges as smooth as a well-deserved Kahlua and cream after the last dishes are done on Christmas Eve.
We decided to paint the top of our little table for our north deck so it matched (more or less) our red Adirondack (Costco!) chairs with their gray-black-and red striped cushion. We had some snappy red marine-grade polyurethane paint left over from the canoe repaint this summer, so why not?
Let’s just jump right in to this thing!!
Apparently, sometimes a good sanding and coat of primer are advised between mixing two completely different furniture finishes.
Ironically, it looks sort of cool, in a distressed, couldn’t-have-done-that-in-a-million-years-if-we’d-tried kind of way.
Looking for input here: leave it as is, with maybe a second light coating to smooth the divots, or acknowledge the total fail and start over after inquiring into recommended steps? Leave a comment if you’d care to weigh in.
I didn’t mean to create Farah Fawcett hair (SU), either, although I am pleased that in case the style ever returns to planet Earth, I have finally mastered the look.
SM: Aforementioned bread, neighbour Rob Sawyer’s grilled artisanal hand-crafted frankfurters, Rick’s home-made wine sauerkraut, and French’s mustard for lunch.
Best. Frankfurter. Ever.
We’re considering initiating a Kickstarter fund to finance a consultant to help us figure out, for the good of humanity, how to coerce Rob into going into the processed meat business full-time.
Went for a walk with the dog (SM, how beautiful everything is in a rain forest community in the middle of September), chatted with neighbours, cleaned the bathroom sink…
Then in a transition moment, I drifted to the north porch to gaze into the woods beside our house for a moment, looking for inspiration on how to spend the rest of the day. I leaned my head around the huge post on the corner of our new deck.
It was weeping.
My first thought was “Huh! Sap.”
My second thought was, “Wow. It looks like it’s crying. I wonder if the wood is homesick?”
And my third thought was, “I wonder if buildings and the ground they stand on hold the essences of where their materials have come from, or what they’ve collectively become, or the memories that are created within them?”
And then I remembered today is September 11, and I remembered the buildings, and the numb horror, and the tears, and the sorrow and gratitude and resolve resonating at Ground Zero in New York City today.
It’s a good day to remember.