Smoke your pipes

Last Sunday Denis and I spent a lazy afternoon sitting outside a coffee shop reading and people watching. I enjoy imagining their lives and wondering if I’d make it in life if I were them. At a small table directly across from us just a few feet away on the sidewalk a hip young couple, whose eccentricities were obvious, sat down – a feast for the eyes. I especially liked the guy’s shiny leather huraches and her black leotards and spiky heels. He got out a pipe, filled it, tamped it down and lit it with a vintage lighter. Then he surprised me by leaning toward her cupping his  hand over hers to light her pipe. As they sat smoking, she pulled out a small chess board and they became engrossed in a game.

 It was a busy street, lots of pedestrians and traffic, many stopping at Izzy’s Ice Cream shop a few doors up. The pace was slow and peaceful. Then, the parking spot opened right in front of us and four Harley hogs growled into the space and backed in at an angle so their rear wheels touched the curb. Although I can put a story on a person, I don’t like to think of people tightly woven into stereo types simply because they ride Harleys or wear huraches. Perhaps I kid myself. These four looked like aging gang members. The one who bumped the edge of the sidewalk about two feet from where the couple sat nearly flattened them as he revved his engine so it backfired and coughed a stinking black cloud over all of us. As he swung his leg off  we heard him say, “There, that’ll teach you to respect me.”

All I did was raise my eyebrows, but my imagined response was far more violent. Such small incidents help me understand why people go to war. I can’t help but think of so many places in the world that desperately need peace and justice and it’s not coming as far as I can see. But there will come a day, please, God. “The Lord will cause men to ehar his majestic voice and will make them see his arm coming down with raging anger and consuming fire.” (Isaiah 30:30)

Coffee. Obscurantum-itis.

Explaining the odd name of this blog. We live at Toad Hall. We drink coffee, nay, love it. So in a way … I know, you get it. So….. coffee….

Yesterday, I awakened despondent and wordless. (mainly vacation-needy) I know some writers make best-selling novels out of the bleak and pathetic. I only manage to stare out the window. When I mentioned to Denis that all I wanted in LIFE was a cappuccino from Kopplin’s, he said, go, even though it’s in St. Paul – 90 minutes from where we live.

In the warm wool of a coat found at the thrift store, in the white feather-fern across the surface of my coffee, to the sound of leaves kicking along the avenue, and from the blue Mississippi lined with golden trees beneath the arches of the 35^th street bridge, I detect beams of Sabbath. Which I seem to need more of these days. Leisure is a necessity.

If Denis had not given me the gift of insisting I go, I wouldn’t be reminded of why I think Kopplin’s makes the best coffee anywhere. I love him. Denis.

Putting it to good use

Just back today from Denis’ graduation from Covenant and a short side trip to a B&B for rest and celebration.

After looking for a coffee shop the last 250 miles, (WHAT is WITH the I-90 corridor in southern MN anyway?) we careened into Caribou’s for our drinks. Today the young woman behind the counter greeted us and asked where we’d been. When Denis told her he’d just graduated. In what? she wanted to know.

A Masters in theology.

And this was her loud and wide-eyed response:

You’re KIDDING!

That’s TOTALLY bonkers. That’s BONKERS!

You mean, like you could talk about polytheism and monotheism and all that stuff?

(Yes.)

I MISSED Passover this year, I’m not Jewish, but I wanted to experience it. I’ve never been around Jewish people. I’m sort of INTERESTED in spiritual stuff.

So, could we get together some time and talk??

(Yes.)

(Does she think we’re Jewish?)

(Maybe.)

I couldn’t stop laughing. Life is sometimes amusing and so bizarre. If I needed an excuse for my lattes, which I don’t, this would be it… we don’t just get caffeinated at the shop one block from our house we get to love the spirit-seeking, patchouli-reeking baristas, too.

How was your day?

It’s been snowing, sleeting, raining today depending on the hour. I’m having trouble with my neck and every day as I sit down to write the next issue of Notes from Toad Hall I have trouble concentrating. Am trying to be matter-of-fact about this slow-down. Today I thought, no matter the weather, I’ll walk down to Caribou, get a coffee, (as a treat – first time in a week, honest) come back here and get busy. I grabbed a little cash. Left the door unlocked, cell on desk, no key (stupid woman), and out into the sleet. Ran into Darcy, the manager, who told me all about the two new puppies she and her boyfriend are getting. The other barista needed to tell me about how on the way to work today she saw a car spin out and total the car next to her. Stupid drivers! she said. It took longer than I planned. Walked back home in rain and cold. Meanwhile a friend who’s been sleeping at our house left and responsibly locked the door.

Denis is sick. He’d gone back to bed with a noise machine going. I rang the doorbell over and over. Pounded on the door again and again. Stood on the porch watching it snow for twenty minutes. Drank my coffee to keep warm. Banged on the door some more hoping the vibrations would penetrate the bedroom. Useless. I went around to the side yard, thought about throwing a brick up at the window. And (brilliant woman) realized he might hear me call since the window is slightly open so we can sleep in arctic temperatures under polar tech. I bellowed, DENIS! Finally woke him up and he let me in. He said he dreamed that someone was making jewelry with little hammers. He felt bad, I felt sheepish and dispirited.

I won’t be ending this with … and so, I’m grateful for shelter, meaningful work, a husband who loves me despite all, because it’s Veteran’s Day and there is no mail which means the netflix I was hoping for won’t be arriving, and because I’m a petty, fallen, indulgent creature. …maybe tomorrow.

Easter Week

Yesterday morning, I took a plateful of warm buns down to the coffee shop where I keep a sort of second office. The Caribou Crew were so amazed -- like I’d given them a pay raise or something. Then, last night when, by chance, the manager saw us eating hamburgers in a little café, her face lit up, she came over gave us each a hug, and introduced her boyfriend. We were honored. These are far easier to make than one would think. And holy in their own little way.

Hot Cross Buns

4 cups flour
¼ cup candied fruit. (I hate candied fruit. I substitute ¼ cup raisins and ¼ cup snipped dried apricots.)
¼ cup chopped nuts
1 pkg (2 T.) yeast
2 T warm water
1 cup warm milk
¼ melted butter
1 ½ t. salt
¼ cup sugar
1 egg, beaten
½ t. vanilla
1 t. (or so) grated lemon zest (I use orange)

In a large bowl, mix warm water and yeast. Add warm milk and sugar, stirring to dissolve. Melt butter in a little dish and mix in the egg to reduce temperature. You don’t want to kill the yeast by adding boiling hot butter. Add to yeast mixture. Add vanilla, salt, and 2 cups of flour. Beat until the batter drools off the whisk. With a wooden spoon, stir in fruit and nuts and another cup of flour. Dust the dough really well with part of the last cup and then turn out on the counter to knead. Knead the dough until it springs back when you punch in your thumb. All the while add bits of flour to keep it from sticking to your hands and the surface. Replace in bowl and smear butter all over the top. Cover and place in a warm spot to rise until double. About an hour. Butter 2 cookie sheets or cake pans. Or something. Punch the dough down. You can be aggressive here. Grab little globs of dough about the size of a golf balls, shape into a ball and place in pans. They should not touch each other. With a sharp knife cut a cross in the center of each bun. Let rise about 45 minutes. Heat oven to 400 degrees and bake about 14-16 minutes. Keep a watch. You want them light brown on outside, but done in the middle. Makes about 2 dozen.

Cool for 5 - 10 minutes. While still warm, glaze with following: 1 ½ cups powdered sugar, a little orange zest, orange juice or ½ & ½ (a mixture will do) add liquid until it’s kinda runny – a little thicker than kid’s cough syrup. Put buns on a round platter and drizzle glaze into the cross marks. Immediately eat four or five to test them. Give the rest away.