Monday, July 14, 2014

Good morning from the mountain it is stil hot and american cultural food

Good morning from the Mountain, as I went into the kitchen to acquire my morning coffee, I was set upon by the fact the house was still quit warm.  We are in for another hot day today; and the house still has not cooled off from yesterday, my heart sinks into despair. It will be a smashingly hot day, and it will require that I once again work with great care, in hopes of not overheating myself.

It is very muggy, and I still need to do much work outside before I can start my other chores.  Yesterday we ran the second-air conditioner in the house.   I so hate to do that as it costs about five American dollars a day to do, so that you can either buy bread or be cool; oh who I am I fooling you cannot buy a good loaf of bread for five dollars.  Those days are gone; that is why in the back of my head I think about baking for money all the time.  Because of circumstance in which I have no control or say, I am ever so often in the place where I must most often think about money, it is as if I am a banker, with the same twenty dollars that must be spent five or more ways.

 I just wrestle really with the fact that the first loaf will pay for the electric use for that day, so you are in debt before you have ever started.  If the weather is hot as it is now, and you must go to the market to sell, you spend a day or at least the best part of it out in the heat with the bread; bread is not a fan of heat, and it can shorten its life by days this way.  We store all bread and bread type products in the refrigerator to keep them fresh longer.  I thought about coolers but locally they have some goofy rule about that.  It seems if it must be kept cold you cannot sell it, so I am not sure if I would be firmly standing upon that line or crossed it, too hot to make war with people who have no idea what cooking or farming is.  To them I am a cute novelty and nothing more.

The art of bread making and that really is what it is an art form dating back to the dawn of time immoral, it is a trait or a skill passed down from generation to generation.  Even with the advent of sliced white bread it still has its place, perhaps even more so as people have finally come to tire of sliced white bread.  I think it must have been quite amazing the first time it was available for purchase.  I have a sort of fondness towards it, even though I know it is death wrapped up in pretty paper.  It has tons of food like things in it, and, of course, bleached and bromated white flour.  Yuck, but who can resist its softness its bounce back after being squished and its sweet dough like gooiness

A tomato, some mayo and sliced white bread is an American cultural sandwich. When you eat it, your mouth is a party in which the bread more often than not sticks to the roof of your mouth.  Tomato juice and mayo dance around as you eat them; it is quite an experience.  I would not do it often as the white bread is like the one guy who is either always stoned or drunk at a party and ready to take a victim with them.  Yes, you can make this simple sandwich with real bread, but sadly it is not the same, it comes down to cake or death.  
No one ever says death please…

In other matters, our dog Scrap is due to have puppies anytime, and she is driving us quite mad as she had no idea of what she wants, poor dear.  She is restless as night and cannot decide if she wants out or in and I being her advocate want her in.  I fear she will have the pups outside, and I will not be there to protect her or them.  I think poor Michael is about over her being pregnant, as well.  She wakes him up at the most ridicules hours of the night, and again does not know what she wants.  Last night it was four times.  Please let her have them today…so we can sleep.

Well, I need to go and get some farm stuff done, still dealing with eBay as well.
Be Blessed
Dear ones

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