I saw the sun

 

 

I saw the sun yesterday afternoon. Tears welled up in my smoke-irritated eyes. It seems like weeks since I saw blue skies and breathed fresh air. I am fortunate to live in the one of most beautiful places in the world; The Pacific Northwest, unfortunately at the moment we have the worst air quality in the world. Fires have been raging along the states of the west coast. My state of Oregon is one of them.We are literally on fire here. There is a big one called the Riverside Fire, it is the closest to us. Clackamas county only a half a mile south of us was and is currently under some sort of evacuation notice and for a time I was scared that we might have to evacuate ourselves. So far so good but we are not out of the woods yet. Ugh. Bad joke.

It has been quite a year for everyone and I am ready for some boring times because I am very tired of the interesting ones.I sit here by the window watching our backyard squirrels busy getting ready for the changing season. They are acting much the same out there in the smokey air. My indoor cat is a bit perturbed at me for curtailing our walks. And our resident hummingbird seems to be filling up its gas tank readying itself for migration.  I have a feeling I may have to migrate someday. We all may face some more interesting times in the future but right now at this moment I am grateful to sit here by the window and gaze out at the green trees through the haze. I notice the sky has brightened a smidgen.  I know there are brave people that have come from all over the world to help and they are out there fighting for us. I am grateful.  My heart breaks for all the destruction and deaths, the human ones and all the animals who have nowhere to evacuate to. I feel a special kinship with the animals of the forest. I even feel like one of them at times. My protectors, my heart and soul; the trees are burning and I feel so damn helpless.

We can only do what we can and spread our little bits of good around whenever and wherever we are able. I am off to clean out and refill the water containers I have outside for our furry friends. Its the least I can do.

Stay safe, take care out there, wherever you may be.

~Nancy

The sky today

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🔹Oregon Wildfires 2020🔹

Image by Unknown

 

Prayers for Steve Huss and all the brave firefighters . Image by Cheryl Stringer
Image by Earl Moore
Image by Chris Espinosa

Finding the Write Time

Writing takes up a lot of time. It’s easy to say to someone to make time like one can manufacture this precious commodity at the kitchen table with some sparkly glitter, a hot glue gun and determination. Time can not be made. We only have 24 hours in a day. Many of those hours are wasted, in my opinion, on sleep and unless you are independently wealthy or retired, you need to work.  Cleaning, cooking, laundry and other chores take a big bite out of what time we have left. And what is left? A few stolen moments ducked into a closet pounding away softly on a keyboard, trying to convey some deep ponderous shit then getting stuck trying to come up with the perfect word for “Fucking stressed out”, scared as hell that any minute someone will find you and interrupt your train of thought. Ouch! That is painful. To me writing is like flying. Once you are in the zone it becomes effortless. You are like a bird and enjoying the hell out of it and then all of a sudden some person takes a machine gun and innocently shoots you out of the sky. You land on the hard ground with a thud. UGH.

How anyone can do this is beyond me. And so when I say that I have no time to write, believe me.

But I do feel the pressure of time, its heaviness. I feel it ticking away. I feel there are moments forgotten, words not written. I feel there is something lost that I may never get back. And so my fear of crash landing is being overshadowed by my fear of never flying at all.

And so if my work is unpolished, or if I publish a little prematurely, without over considering my word choices trying not to offend anyone or give anyone cause to criticize. Yes, I know that I abuse commas and semicolons. So be it. Life is much too short and I am becoming much too wise to be so stupid as to get hung up on the illusion of perfection.  I am going to write what’s in my heart no matter how light and fluffy or dark and deary I am feeling at the time.

And we only so much time.

That being said, I am stealing a few moments on my day off, cat by my side, back door open to the sounds of traffic and birds. My mind is open to possibilities and opportunities.  I am finding this little break enjoyable and the chickadees seem to agree as the chorus rages on outside.

~SBI
Here I am out adventuring, definitely not writing…

 

 

 

“Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self.”

― Cyril Connolly

Drunken Squirrels

And so my husband is a nut, we all know that. He was telling me last night about squirrels and the availability of fermented berries and pumpkin? Yes, fermented pumpkin, and the rise of alcoholism in squirrels.

I googled this nonsense and came up with a story about country clubs in the south and how the alcoholic squirrels there, yes by cracky, here we go again, alcoholic squirrels have been harassing club-goers begging for sips of their mint juleps and spiked sweet teas.

I declare! In all my born days.

Squirrels are not only friendly and cute. They are also the animal you’re most likely to see wasted in your yard. Squirrels get intoxicated from ingesting fermented crab apples, squash, magnolia petals, and cherries among other delicacies.

Oh fiddle dee dee, Magnolia petal wine! We could be missing out here kids.

And so all these good-intentioned, well-meaning homeowners are being a bit lazy and leaving their backyard fruit to ferment. Not knowing that they are practically providing an open bar to the neighborhood squirrels along with any raccoons, stray cats or rodents that may show up.

This would explain a lot of the loopiness common in squirrels and other animals. I sure as heck know how silly even the most serious humans can get when they are “feeling no pain.”

I am fine with our backyard squirrels imbibing. It might make them more fun. As long as I don’t have to live with them lying on my couch all day and complaining about a wicked hangover and wanting sympathy and their nuts shelled for them.

 

The squirrels who inhabit our backyard are definitely peanut happy. Unfortunately there are no fruit trees or liquor stores nearby but they are content, and probably better off, with the nuts and seeds we feed them. They also like the clean water we give them in one of our cat’s old kitten dishes.

They have trained us to do this and we have found we like it very much. My husband plays music on his guitar and we dole out the peanuts. The squirrels run around and our cat Mocha loves to watch them and the many birds that visit us too.

These little creatures just bound up and they are so happy to see us. You can see it on their faces; the look of happiness and that little happiness spreads to us too. It’s “like a little jolt of electricity, a little high” as my husband put it.

This is our kind of partying.

 

 

What I am really trying to say, as nutty as it sounds is: We need more “drunken squirrels” in our lives. Fun little interactions with nature. Connections with other lifeforms other than ourselves. These creatures share our environment with us. Even if its just a cute squirrel in the park. I think we humans are becoming more and more separated from that connection with nature everyday. This makes it all the easier not to notice it all trickle away.

~SBI

“If we can teach people about wildlife, they will be touched. Share my wildlife with me. Because humans want to save things that they love.”
Steve Irwin

 

The Birds of Westmoreland Park

 

Westmoreland Park is a lovely park in Southeast Portland, Oregon.  It encompasses roughly 42 acres in the Westmoreland neighborhood. The park has many features including sports fields, a playground, and ponds. 

Today we just visited one of the smaller ponds in the restored wetlands area of the park. This part of the park was revamped adding the wetlands which is allowing for the return of migrating salmon to the stream. 

We didn’t see any salmon today but we did see other urban wildlife

 The much larger rectangle pond has been drained for the season but there are still places to swim. 

This Mallard was particularly friendly. 

He swam right next to me and I started talking to him and he just kept getting closer and closer. I could see the water droplets on his feathers. He seemed to like my voice so I just kept talking. I told him how handsome he was and “Wow! What a good swimmer.” and all that. 

Someone high above my head watched it all play out. Little did the crow know that I had peanuts for him. Sorry nothing for you ducks, not today.

Crow got his peanuts and the Mallard and one of his cohorts followed along.  

I hope this family has food for them although there is a sign that states “Do Not Feed The Ducks”. I think people do anyway. 

I googled what to feed ducks. Don’t feed them bread!!

Don’t feed bread to Ducks
So, if you  feel compelled to feed your local ducks, try these instead of bread:
  1. Corn (canned, frozen or fresh)
  2. Duck pellets (sold online and at pet stores)
  3. Lettuce, other greens (torn into small pieces)
  4. Frozen peas (defrosted)
  5. Oats (rolled or instant)
  6. Seeds (including birdseed or other varieties)

from The Mother Nature Network 

This is my daughter Sara. She loves animals too. That makes her all the more lovable herself. 

 We will revisit this place, much more to see as the weather warms. 

 

❤  SBI

 

 References and related articles 

Westmoreland Park    

 

The Hide Inside

“You can keep as quiet as you like, but one of these days somebody is going to find you.”
Haruki Murakami

I have wondered how it is to try to understand me when I sometimes do not understand myself. I have put up a barrier between me and the rest of the world. I can and do retreat into the small quiet place inside where no one can get to. I would hide there as a child whenever the world became too big, too bright, too loud. I would retreat there whenever my heart would break at the smallest of upsets, when I could not understand that there were things I just couldn’t understand. Whenever I realized no one understood me, I would go there. When I would do or say the wrong thing, this became my protection, my wall, my shell, my sanctuary. I have never let anyone in.

To be honest, there are times when I like it in there.

In my adult life, during the 17 years that I lived with an emotional abuser. I would go to that place inside myself. In my imagination I created a nice place in the sun on a sandy beach that I had frequented in real life as a teen. I would sit back and watch the river flow, listen to the birds and bury my toes in the warm sand.

This sustained me during the times I could not defend myself because I was not strong enough to even realize I was worthy of defense.

I seldom go there now; that protected place as my life has changed, I left the abuser and definitely I have grown stronger but that barrier remains, the bubble that protects, the facade that makes me seem just like everyone else.

It is only through words on this screen that I type to you through my keyboard that I am able to say this much. My brain is somehow connected better this way than verbally. The words flow right from the source, actually speaking words is not my best thing, but I try.

It has taken me forty odd years to find someone I feel a deep enough connection to not only want to share myself and my inner world with.It is a thirst long overdue sating.

I try to imagine the way I must come across to him. I don’t think he realizes how different I am with him than with other people. I know he knows that I can shut down, he has seen the blank look come across my face, he has watched me instantly withdraw, he has felt my body become limp. He has seen my at my worst, he has seen what I have been able to hide from others, he has seen the exhausted me that can’t speak, he has seen the burned out me that jumps at the slightest sound. He has never judged me or made me feel bad about who I am. He has held me tight and loved the pain away. He has loved me and has tried to understand more than anyone including my own Mother. I still can’t let him in fully and I still can’t tell him in words what I am writing here about I feel. This is a curse and a blessing to me.

It is said that Asperger’s is developmental and I do continue to develop everyday. I have worked on myself my entire life. Writing this blog has certainly helped me in an abundance of ways. I hope to inspire others in this way; you matter–you are loved –you are not alone–although you are special and unique there are others who feel like you–and you can change your life.

♥SBI

Fresh Quotes for Fresh Writing

"Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia." ~ E. L. Doctorow
“Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia.” ~ E. L. Doctorow
"Start writing, no matter what. The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on" ~ Louis L'Amour
“Start writing, no matter what. The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on” ~ Louis L’Amour

All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know. Ernest Hemingway

 

“Your intuition knows what to write, so get out of the way.” ~ Ray Bradbury
 

“Don’t bend; don’t water it down; don’t try to make it logical; don’t edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.” ― Franz Kafka

 

“If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don’t write, because our culture has no use for it.” ~ Anais Nin

 

 

“Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.” ~ William Wordsworth

 

There is no way that writers can be tamed and rendered civilized or even cured. The only solution known to science is to provide the patient with an isolation room, where he can endure the acute stages in private and where food can be poked in to him with a stick. -Robert A. Heinlein
“You must write every single day of your life… You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads… may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.” ― Ray Bradbury

 

Ray Bradbury’s Greatest Writing Advice

Believe

You have to believe. Otherwise, it will never happen.
~Neil Gaiman

 

What do you believe? Do you believe in rational notions, in well explained, well thought out reasonable reasons? Do you believe everything has an explanation ? Or needs one?

 

Do you also believe the fairy tales you were told as a child about the things that go bump in night? In strange magical creatures, in aliens? Do you believe in the power of positive thinking? Can you stretch your imagination to believe something you have been told is not real? Can you go where your heart leads and believe what it tells you?

Albert Einstein said that reality is merely an illusion, a very persistent one but a illusion nonetheless. I believe everyone has their own separate realities that are all unique unto themselves and that we do have a choice in what our own reality is. Of course I can’t wish a terrible president away or think happy thoughts and start to fly but I can take actions to direct my own destiny and I can believe whatever the hell I want to. And so what  if I believe in unicorns, fairies, talking crows and humans with good hearts I can
If you want to believe that too, you can,  but if you don’t believe that is okay , I still think you are wonderful and it doesn’t make my beliefs any less valid. 

 

Part of me is more rational than the other and I choose which part to believe at certain times. The whimsical one is getting more power all the time as I grow wiser with time.  The whimsical side has a much better use for time than the practical side I imagine. 

 I believe that people generally want to believe something, something beyond or greater than themselves. Our time here is so short and the universe is so very big and we are so very small.  

The best beliefs are those which you cannot prove to be true, the invisible ones you hold your heart. somehow I think people lose sight of that along the way, we are told what to believe and not to believe by our parents , our peers, by society. 

I feel I can believe whatever I want to, no matter what, as long as the belief is good and pure and honest, as long as it does not hurt anyone or anything, as long as it does not contradict what my heart, what my soul tells me to be true. I can believe whatever I want to and I can can disbelieve any biased , hateful crap that comes my way. I can choose to believe in the good of people and that there is hope in the world and that with love and cooperation and wisdom to see the truth for its own sake we can all live together and save ourselves from ourselves if we just believe. 

♥ SBI

Related articles

Whimsy   (strawberryindigo.wordpress.com)

Cottingley Fairies

 

The Eyes of the Future

The eyes of the future are looking back at us and they are praying for us to see beyond our own time.

And here we are, it is 2020 and the world seems to be teetering on a precipice hovering over oblivion. Do we continue our slide down or can we save ourselves?

Our bad habits are catching up with us. It’s time to fess up and pay up and work together to solve our collective problems. We do not have the time to entertain the self-serving and the idiots they control. Some deny that the house is burning but we are surrounded by smoke and others are sneaking out the back door with whatever they can get and leaving everyone else to burn.

Hopefully we have finally reached the bottom of this pit that we have dug for ourselves and now we can begin the climb out.

I pray there is not another bottom farther down we cannot fathom.

I have seen an ugliness in my fellow human that in my ignorance I hadn’t realized before. An ugliness I could never have imagined.

These revelations come on like waves, one right after another after another. It difficult not to give in to despair.

There is no time for despair.

We are seeing history in the making and our collective future depends on what is happening now.

There is a disconnect. Those who are in power are very adept at dividing us; we the people of the world. We need to band together and see beyond what years of manipulation and lies have done to us.

We can save ourselves because we must, we have no choice. What is the alternative?

Whatever collective ugliness we harbor pales in comparison to what could be our glorious potential.

Am I too optimistic , or too pessimistic to be realistic?

I have a feeling the eyes of the future will be judgmental. History will not look kindly on us, on our collective malaise, on our willingness to go along with the status quo. Leaving our collective mess for future generations will not be viewed lightly. For as much as our ancestors sacrificed for us, it seems we cannot do the same for future generations. They will curse us I am afraid.

I cannot avoid the feeling of guilt. The feeling of helplessness and the fear of a very scary and very possible future but I have hope.

I have hope and I’m not the only one.

I have hope the eyes of the future will able to see with a wisdom we relics of the past seemingly cannot.

I hope they will overlook our frailties and see that indeed hindsight is 20/20.

I hope they will see an awakening, a willingness to shed our past ways and embrace a kinder, more sustainable existence for us all.

I hope they will see us band together and work towards a common goal: our very existence.

I have hope for that.

❤SBI

Mocha’s School of Kick Ass Mousing

Riding on the cat tails of his recent success in catching a little mouse in our apartment our cat Mocha is now holding weekend seminars in our storage closet intended to teach his fellow cats and other interested parties how to succeed in the exciting world of mousing and competitive catting.
I told him this wouldn’t work and I am eating my words as he is now booked well into July. This is crazy. He has no formal training or licence. I am afraid this is all gone to his head and its already costing me money. He has had business cards made , a website designed and has hired a couple of neighborhood cats and my own daughter to assist him, all with my credit card!

He says not to worry “baby”, yes he called me baby!

He said that once his school gets going he will be making the “big bucks”and that he’ll be so successful that he will be able to pay me back with “a gazillion percent interest” so that I never will have to work again.  Seriously, he told me this.

😀

Heard that story before….

Wish me luck..

~SBI

What the Crow Told Me

A lone crow caws at me from atop a tall tree. The wind tosses my hair into my eyes. I push it away and squint to see despite the rain. And there it is. It looks down on me. As if to say…

“Don’t forget about me. I remain your spirit animal until I teach you what I have to teach you. Silly human.”

And I carry no peanuts, not a one. Not today.

And so it soars off into the unforgiving gray sky and I am left humbled in the rain by a tattered old bird in a parking lot in the first hours of morn.

I would feed them, these birds, every morning at my old job, the one that burned me out. It was only a couple of months ago but it still is very recent in my mind.

My interactions with the crows were my only joys during a joyless day. They became my spirit animal after a similar encounter with one months before the one I just described.

I was sad with nothing to hold on to. I would notice the birds on my way to work. it was wintertime and obviously not an easy life for them. I know from reading and from firsthand experience that that crows which are in the Corvid family along with Ravens , Blue Jays and other birds are extremely intelligent. I admire that intelligence and I admire the tenacity and determination these animals display just trying to eek an existence alongside humans.

So there is was in the same parking lot as before, in the very early morning and it cawed at me and kept cawing. I had time to take out the camera I was carrying and take this picture. I have since had the image blown up and I have it framed in a small frame. It is up on the wall to remind me.

It came to me that I could learn a lot from those scrappy but majestic birds and so I began to carry peanuts in my pocket to reward them for being so inspiring and to maybe give back a little to animals who have had so much taken from them by humans.

The winter came and went and so did spring and summer. My work life grew more difficult and it began to take its toll on me and through me, on my family.

All the while I learned from the crows and I grew tougher and more resilient and smarter. I realized that I needed to escape that job. I am learning that just because I am able to do something doesn’t mean I should do it. Nothing is worth having these burnouts. I have overcome so much in my quest for having a simple life, one just like everyone else despite my Autism. I think I need to work wiser, not just harder. I don’t need to torture myself. I need to celebrate myself. And I need to seek help. The crows are seldom alone, they thrive in groups, they are social and therein lies a strength for them . This, among much, much more I have yet to learn.

I am fortunate to have such wise and resilient teachers.

❤ SBI

Crow Quotes

When a crow says an intelligent thing, chickens may laugh at it. This is the laughing of the sand castles at the powerful waves!

Mehmet Murat ildan

Crows are incredibly smart. They can be taught five things on the drop.

Robbie Coltraine

I saw a crow building a nest, I was watching him very carefully, I was kind of stalking him and he was aware of it. And you know what they do when they become aware of someone stalking them when they build a nest, which is a very vulnerable place to be? They build a decoy nest. It’s just for you.

Tom Waits

“If men had wings and bore black feathers, few of them would be clever enough to be crows.” ~ Rev. Henry Ward Beecher

RELATED ARTICLES

Crow Symbolism and Meaning

Corvidae is a cosmopolitan family of oscine passerine birds that contains the crows, ravens, rooks, jackdaws, jays, magpies, treepies, choughs, and nutcrackers.[1][2][3] In common English, they are known as the crow family, or, more technically, corvids. Over 120 species are described. The genus Corvus, including the jackdaws, crows, rooks, and ravens, makes up over a third of the entire family.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corvidae

The world between two pines

A mystical magical foray through the foggy forest

“The richness of a moment comes when it’s both full and empty at the same time. The truth is, we live simultaneously in time and timelessness.” ~ Ram Dass

Where does reality leave off and imagination take over? Does it matter?


All at once the light of overcast day turns to fog as we step between the two tall pines and descend into into darkening wood.

I proceed with an uncharacteristic reverence, my steps slow and deliberate.  

The air is damp. Tufts of fogginess elongate, curving and curling between the trees trunks like an asp lending an air of mystery to the atmosphere. Although I am inside a natural area that’s inside a large park, I could be anywhere. 

There is a sense of timeless here, of ancientness. I can smell it. The pine needles, the mud, the old leaves, the moss. Ancestral memories encoded in my DNA have been awakened. I feel oddly at home, every twist and turn takes me deeper and deeper in. 

My usual gleefulness is gone, replaced by a watchfulness. Where my causal romp through the woods has become more than causal. I notice my steady breaths and I notice the birds are quiet. It seems as everything is at a standstill, but me.

It’s as though I am walking through a dream. The haze grows murkier with every step, my footing has been lost in the fog. The path twists and turns and suddenly I find I have lost the path altogether. The mossy floor feels like soft clouds and I imagine I am high in the sky feeling the cool fresh air. I feel so relaxed and at ease , I am compelled to sleep…

Then I spy glossy black wings in the corner of my mind’s eye and hear the cawing of the crows…
…suddenly I’m back on the ground slipping in the mud, catching myself in dreamland and jolting myself awake. 
Better watch my step…haha.

 

~SBI
All photos taken by me on The Wildwood Trail in Washington Park in Portland, Oregon. 

 

 

 

 

**
 
 

***

The infinite loveliness of nothing

There is a certain loveliness in nothingness, in unencumbered stillness, in silent empty space. In this absence of something there is a void that aches to be filled. Therein lies potential and that potential is infinite.

At least I tell myself this as I sit at the back door watching the trees dance in the wind. It is early morning and I am in the process of appreciating some idle time.

I still wake up at 4:45 a.m. A feat that has taken this once proud night owl years of cultivation to achieve and I will get as much down time as I can get even if it is in the early morning. Nothing lasts forever and this extra time will not.

In order to appreciate this time that I have seized for myself in an act of desperation, I must engage myself in the art of doing nothing.

My last job was in itself a culture of stress. I worked in a very busy call center in the public safety sector. There was high expectations and a rigid adherence to numerous and various state laws and regulations that required me to make statements that made callers confused and upset, this made customer service difficult at best. My days were timed to the tenth of a second, over one minute late and you have an “occurrence” and points were given, points that added up very fast for some and there was/ is a high turnover rate. I did well though. My calls were listened to and graded. I was thought of as smart and competent , I took  direction well and after a while I did start to sound like the others: A caller once told me I sounded like a robot.

I almost cried then.

There was a reason why I wasn’t the only one who had constant migraines there.

I felt I was drowning, gasping for air.  I felt desperate. An anger rose up in me that was not me at all.  This started to effect my relationships with my husband and family. I felt sick  to my stomach and my energy was zapped. I felt like a zombie just trying to get to the next day, to the weekend where I would try to cram as much living as I could in 2 days.

I bet my former coworkers would have been surprised to know that I am on the Autism Spectrum, I have masked it pretty well my whole life but that takes its physical and emotional toll on me and that job was not the best for someone with sensory issues, it may be one of the worst. 47 hour weeks of this for nearly two years did me in and burned me out. The job that gave me and my family health insurance made me sick.

 

Before I gave my notice I obtained a part time temporary gig in retail. It pays the bills, just almost. In the two months I have been there I have been much happier and healthier. I am getting myself back.


To the mind that is still, the whole universe surrenders.
Lao Tzu

East bank of the Willamette River

Nothing gives birth to creation.

It provides the empty space for something to occur. Nothing is an empty cup waiting to be filled, it is up to us to fill it.

The only real commodity is time. We are selling hours of our lives for money. Money we need to survive. Most of us have no control over this and have to spend much of our lifetime devoted to that task.

There is no time for nothing. There is no blank canvas on which to create and on which to write the narrative of our lives. Some fortunate people have jobs that them happy, that happiness is reflected in their work and everyone around them can share in this happiness. They are excited to get up and start working for the day. I want to be one of those people.

I believe that I can contribute to society in a greater way than I am now, I should say in a better way. Whether I am baking bread, selling jewelry in a store or writing something that makes people laugh or cry or think.

This rat is so very tired of the race.

And so I sit here at the back door, feeding a few squirrels that have gathered. My mind has time to reflect, my writing voice is coming back, the one that has lain dormant for a few years. I hear it speaking in whispers, I can barely hear but I am listening.

SBI

 

**

“And to tell the truth I don’t want to let go of the wrists of idleness, I don’t want to sell my life for money, I don’t even want to come in out of the rain.”

Mary Oliver

Good donut, bad donut

It is early morning in mid winter. I type not knowing what to write but knowing that I should write. So here I am trying not to disturb the cat on my lap and attempting to ignore the hunger growling in my stomach.

Coffee would be good but again that would require me to get up and disturb the cat, this not disturbing the cat thing is not going so well. Too bad the cat just won’t volunteer to make coffee but that would be ridiculous; no one makes it strong enough for me, not even my cat who my daughter named Mocha after my coffee addiction.

Doesn’t that look absolutely delectable?

Now visions of hot dark strong coffee with very liberal doses of cream flood my mind…

Yummmmm

Who brought the donuts up? I have no donuts at home. I have a fondness for donuts, just glazed usually or sometimes an apple fritter is nice. Jelly filled is not my thing, too unpredictable, could explode on you at any time.

“Weird donuts near me”

There is a donut place in the city where I live. It has mediocre donuts but outstanding marketing. It sells “interesting”donuts and has set itself up as a tourist destination. This place has acquired long lines of vacation people with time on their hands and money to spend. These people then proceed to walk around town cumbered by these tell tale pink boxes of donuts, I can’t help but laugh

I googled : “weird donuts near me” I got the place. I won’t name it here.

The Bad

Bad donuts are just that. Bad. And although mediocre donuts are okay, good donuts are better but not so easy to find when you really need them. I am reminded of late night forays to convenience stores jonesing for a cruller or just a simple sugar ring only to be greeted by an old jelly-filled brown lump that sits alone under a half- warmish lightbulb snarling at you when you open the case.

The Good

Simple is good. Fresh is wonderful. Quality ingredients, consistency. No bright colors or anything oozing out. No sprinkles, no gimmicks; although I love bacon don’t put it on my donut.

mouthwatering…scrumptious…You donut know how much I love you!

Of course I am romanticizing it all but I do love a good donut. I love bakeries in general. ask anyone who really knows me and they will tell you. I am in love with that smell , that delicious aroma that emanates from them. It makes me sooooooo happy!!

I have a dream about owning a bakery someday. I am used to getting up early anyway. I used to call business owners in a previous job and I noticed that owners of bakeries seemed to be the happiest. And so in the interest of science and my growling stomach I googled the best donuts in the world. I got a list showing the best donuts in the US and much to my surprise and delight I found the number two to be in my city of Portland!

And we know where that is leading….

And so I will report back and let you all know how it goes…

Nancy

related articles

Why do we love the smell of bread? UCD scientists find the answer. by The Irish Times