Ten.One Thousand & Eighty-Three
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Dry.
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I dip the spoon into the pot of the jam and taste. I imagine it drizzled over pancakes or a small bowl of vanilla ice cream.
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Coffee and condition.
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“Freeing yourself was one thing, claiming ownership of that freed self was another.” ― Toni Morrison, Beloved
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Shrinkage. It’s just shrinkage.
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I try to piece together the transcript while I listen to her talk. “Are you resting?”
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The dog is barking and whining and sounds miserable. They yell at it to stop barking in between laughs. I just want to be outside.
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The heat makes me weary. It also makes me feel alive.
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The pasta sheets don’t look wide enough to make the ravioli. He’s removing the croutons and the focaccia from the oven. I still need to whisk and egg yolk and some parmesan into the dressing.
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I think this is the last round of boil/simmer/cool.
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Is it necessary?