Daily Bread (without the bread)

Yesterday I ran errands in The City.  At the same time, my husband and his fishing buddies threw hooks in the lake all day long, coaxing slimy creatures with gills and fins into the boat. They've been doing this together for 34 years, and as usual, created plenty of fond manly memories to last them until the next time. 

My day also was memorable, but in an entirely different way; it had nothing at all to do with stinky, cold-blooded, scaly fish. My favorite incident actually occurred at Barnes and Noble when a young father and his 7-or-8-year-old son were headed out the door as I entered it.  The boy pouted and lagged behind, complaining about how he reeeeealy wanted a toy he’d seen in aisle by the children’s section. 

His father’s response was epic.  Instead of trying to talk the boy out of his desire (an impossibility anyway), he said, “I’ll tell you what.  I’ll buy you a book anytime you want one. A book! Anytime you want one!” This was said firmly, and yet also with underlying tenderness.  What a great dad, I thought, to use a sticky moment to reinforce value for the written word.  His comment encouraged me; I admired his quick thinking and shared his priority. It was food for my soul.

I drove from store to store to store for hours, robotically checking things off the to-do list.  Around 3:00 my stomach growled a serious reminder that I’d skipped lunch, so I stopped at our new Earth Fare grocery store that also has the best salad-and-food bar in that neck of the woods – no contest.  I sat at a cute elevated round table next to a window with gorgeous blue skies staring back at me from the other side, and enjoyed the best lunch ever.  Or at least one of the best ever.

Back home, the fisher-guys stayed out on the lake until they almost couldn’t see anymore.  When they finally pulled up to the pier, I'd already been home a couple of hours.  

Dusk had fallen.  A quarter moon hung in the deep lavender sky overhead.  They were starved, and we’d already predetermined it was my “night off” in the kitchen, so it didn’t take long for them to head for our local bar and restaurant. I declined the kind invitation to join them – it’s deliriously noisy in that place with sounds echoing all over the place, which puts my sanity at high risk.  And what man wants to deal with a deranged woman gone psychopathic because of noise?  Not a single one I know. So I stayed home and made myself a late-night spinach omelette with sliced avocado and raw, fermented sauerkraut.  It was sooooo good.

I thought to myself that I wouldn’t mind repeating this day all over again - running into the father with his kid (I would pay more attention next time), eating another Earth Fare lunch and fixing the omelette dinner.  Of course I’d want to top it all off with a slice of gluten-free, sugar-free blueberry pie.  Just like I did.