Fresh bread and water
A reminder (to self) as a new rural dweller: Don’t dress too comfortably around the house, because people drop in to visit, unlike in the big city. No scandal implied.
Anyhow, after the company left, we realized that it might be too late to go out for lunch. Happily, the bread robot did its thing, and another low budget meal was on the table in minutes… literally. Which then left the rest of the afternoon to spend, doing nothing at all. I might develop mastery of this alternate lifestyle.
By suppertime, the bread and water diet seemed incarceral, so we loaded up the car and headed over to Shipwreck Café for some bounty from the sea. The dog was unwilling to stay behind to keep house; any closer to my side would have required surgery. He really wants to be included in family moments. Staying in the car, though, is fine business. Funny puppy.
I wonder what it might be like to own a seasonal restaurant. The owner offered the opportunity… all I asked was if the veterans from the wait staff were coming back for another summer. (Yes and no). We took our dessert as take-away, so they could lock up and go home.
The cove beckoned, on the way back east, so we stopped down to see what cold weather camping did to the spirit. The cake was regifted, and we fled the chilly showers.
I’m supposed to check the dog, when we come in, instead of trusting him to wipe his paws on the mat.
