Can I do this? Is this allowed? Just put up images of delectable pastries from the day Miss I and I went to choose her birthday cake? Now the unnecessarily sinister name of "Divorce" for the half coffee/half chocolate puff pastry seems unbearably dear. I was hit hard at dinner tonight (tears and everything) with the shock of wondering "Was that really us?" Was that really our little family out there in Brittany, France? Trying to figure out the library cards, awed by megaliths, endlessly curious about said pastries, gladdened by our friends on the island. Was that really us, or is this just more daydreaming? More escapism from administrative stress, or student confessions of sexual assault, or that one student who finds nursing "gross" but works at Hooters, or the student who needs Lancelot to be completely heroic instead of tormented, or how to finish this article on visual narrative on time, or whatever? We're at the part of the semester when we need to replenish, the part of the semester where I'm asking "What's It All For?" way too often. It's for the consciousness of our common humanity - the only thing that will make things better, the every elusive realization. Do pastries remind us of our common humanity? They come closer than you'd think - as do all simple but profound pleasures.
It's Wednesday, my friend. Let's get together tonight. Maybe no pastries, but definitely goodies, friendship, and a moment to replenish.
ReplyDeleteJulia
Thank goodness for thee - this day is long, but the evening promises to be sweet!
ReplyDeleteAh, la Divorce! You see, if you were back in Brittany you could halve your cake and eat it, too.... We both miss you terribly here-- but glad you have friends like Julia to offer other goodies.
ReplyDeleteThe garden on the island is still impossibly beautiful, with roses and asters and purple sedums and hydrangeas and anemones flopping every which way. A chain of rainstorms left the lawn as green as lawns are legally allowed be in France, with a (damp) corner for Mr. O to read. The leaves are indeed beginning to turn, and all night long you can hear the chestnuts falling from the trees and plopping into the river.
It wasn't a daydream: you were really here. And when you come back there will be cookies waiting.
much love to you all--
David
Dearest David, Your words mean so much to me. I can close my eyes and see the garden and even walk through it (had to look up a couple of those - are your purple sedums of the Emperor kind? i love it!). Mr. O minds no dampness - we'll come get him when the cookies are out. This week-end is our moelleux week-end and we are all really looking forward to it. Now, important question: how do you deal with the whole pumpkin pie situation in France?
ReplyDeletelove
me :-)