no butter

Angelina and Miles came across the driveway that separates our houses to borrow some parmesan cheese for their noodles.  I’ve had a whole unopened triangular package of it in the fridge for a while now and was happy to share.  I also gave her a couple porkchops cooked with mushrooms and carrots and garlic that were left over from the weekend.  Ange and Miles arrived while I was in the backyard picking and photographing the first zucchini of the season.   I gave them that first zucchini and picked another smaller one for myself.  In the house, Miles asked to feed the fish, so I put a kitchen chair next to the tank for him to stand on while he sprinkled flakes and a few pellets into the water, big shy smile on his face.  An hour later, after gobbling my own plate of porkchop and rice and zucchini, I popped across the driveway with a small blue dish in my hand to borrow a smear of butter, but no luck.  I’ve got half a loaf of cinnamon swirl-brioche-type bread in the fridge, but no butter to spread upon it once toasted.  I may have to go to the store tonight.

About Zahara

gardener, cyclist, student, mom,
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