Marta ~ May 20

 

It's a bright, feel-good summery morning and I got an early start, and had to go to the local bakery anyway to get muffins for the latest AirBnB guests. Usually, the muffins are already purchased and in place when the guests arrive, but sometimes I don't get to the bakery on time and then have to go in the morning and hang them from the outer door knob. 

 

And so, since it was so nice out, and I had plenty of time, was in a good mood, and had to go to the bakery, and ALSO because I finished that editorial project yesterday AND had nothing breakfasty at home I thought I'd take myself out and have breakfast there. 

 

Nice walk over to the bakery, my second of the day, the first being a walk through town with Bird the dog, something we often do and, I think, are known even by strangers because we do it so often. This morning men in trucks were putting up flags on telephone poles. It seemed too early for July 4th, and then I remembered there'd be a Memorial Day parade soon. Though I don't remember ever seeing these flags posted along the main street before. I balked a bit. I'm not much into nationalistic symbols, but then I settled down, deciding it made us look small-towney, which was kind of comforting. 

 

"How long have you worked here?" I asked the familiar-looking young woman behind the counter. She is my favorite. A plain face, but quirky. "Eight years," she said. 

 

"You must be ready to move on to the next place," I almost said, but didn't because Julie her boss was just a few steps away. "So nice to see a familiar face," I said instead.

 

I ordered avocado toast, which promised to come with a slew of veggies, sat down at a small table and pulled out a Hungarian study book. I opened it to a very early chapter and gave myself the pleasure of understanding all of it, while looking up a few words that still eluded me. 

 

The avocado toast arrived -- a big piece of thick toast on wonderful gluten-full bread covered in green. The vegetable on top was not recognizable. It looked like very large scallion-circles. A plastic fork and knife accompanied my repast. At first I tried just biting into this inviting large thick green creation, but bits flew here and there, and after a few tries I resorted to the plastic utensils, which actually were just strong enough to get through the lovely crust. 

 

The thick green circles weren't scallions. I could not figure out what they were, but they were pleasantly crunchy. I didn't care for the overall flavor. It's hard to find food out there that you actually like. Anyway, I polished it off, studied a little Hungarian, and watched a woman at the counter out of the corner of my eye joshing with Julie and "Eddie" in the kitchen. They called her Barbara. She spoke quite loudly, telling them some story to which they were very responsive, everyone laughing back and forth. 

 

I'd forgotten her name was Barbara. I met her when I first came to Woodstock because she was part of the devotee crowd, a member of my own yoga community, though not one I had met before. She was a musician of some high caliber. Not well known, but classically trained. A small woman, a little chubby. 

 

When I wrote The Guru Looked Good she very clearly stopped talking to me. She continues to pass me on the sidewalk, eyes averted. I often walk with Bird through the cluster of houses where she lives and she has twice barked at me for trespassing. A few times I have passed her in town as she walks carrying a boom box emanating the ponderous morning chant we all used to do. This last annoys me the most. But this morning she was Miss Cheery, amongst her buddies.