This morning, for whatever reason, I have a tremendous amount of nervous energy. I woke up at 6 30, mixed batter for pumpkin bread, and got on my bike for a 4.5 mile fast-jaunt while the oven baked. The earthy smell of spices and squash made my kitchen welcoming, but I realized when I got home and set the loaf on the counter to cool that I'd forgotten to add sugar- my flightiness screwed up and wasted a whole bunch of ingredients I'd rather not have lost. Damn. I'm looking up recipes for bread pudding, then, to put my boring loaf to good use.
Now I'm in Little Italy, trying my best to ignore the din of the post-church crowd that's plopped its ass in every seat at Presti's. I won't be here too long, I think. It's hard to edit the collective noise. There are so many PEOPLE here. Little kids (including one sitting in a high-chair, wearing a tiger suit), doted on by their preppy young parents... really old folks, the women wearing too much makeup and gaudy earrings, the men hunched over their pastry like foothills of suit-coat and crumbs...students with textbooks, art kids in sneakers, and even the pastor from the church nextdoor- he's munching a doughnut with chocolate frosting, his tiny round table filled in each cardinal direction by a old woman in a bright dowdy suit: royal blue, pastel pink, and scarlet red.
I feel more skittish than a lop-ear in a hutch.
I might get a refill and sit awhile anyway.
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