Journal 7.19.25
Slow and rainy Saturday morning break from the Farmer’s Market I didn’t feel much like braving the rain but mostly I didn’t feel much like braving people. Phil is already here hard at work polishing the prep kitchen and Scott is taking a few slow moments at the other end of the counter and I made breakfast of fried leftover grits and eggs and black coffee. I can think my small thoughts here I am free to think my small thoughts here in the unlit room the dark room the quiet room the room with these two other men with whom I share a large piece of my small life they are good men. And I’ll begin the gestures the daily rhythm of bread and pasta and slicing and curing fish and making sauce the endless checking checking checking of ingredients I’ll begin it soon but I’m enjoying this short quiet still shadowed moment as I always do and it’s early enough to enjoy it a while longer. As I feel the coffee rising from belly to face warming me the energy there warming me this is a fine day.
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