Not much more than a thank you note

I have been up since 3 am. By choice. Yes, by some masochistic-for-the-sake-of-passion,-pain-for-pleasure- sort of way, i willingly awoke only three and half hours  after falling asleep.You see, once of twice a week, i spend the wee hours at Okanagan Grocery, learning to make bread from someone who has become as beloved as the finished product. I work for the loaf that i mixed, proofer, par shaped, shaped, slashed, and baked. And it is worth more than any dollar. But it makes me quite tired.

I am here writing (oh dear, i just spelled "writing": "righting" before correcting it--sleep depravity, yet somewhat allusory to what i would be writing if i wasnt so sleep deprived, and therefore somewhat non-sensical and rambling....) instead of sleeping because i have not written in a long while--and it was pointed out to me. The fact that it was pointed out to me, that someone actually paid enough attention to my posts that they noticed the lull was both guilt inducing and incredibly fueling. No matter that it was a dear uncle and that he is bound by familiaty (is that a word--it is when you are too tired to notice you still have flour in your hair)...(he is bound by being my dear uncle) to read and support me; people are listening, and that is so special.

It has been so long because i have been in school--a subject which i intend to discuss, berate, exaggerate, occasionally rave, and generally complain about at a time when i am capable of using real words (familiaty? really?).  Six weeks have passed and there is much to say and explain and share to anyone reading. And a couple days will probably accumulate, just to warn...

But for now, a thank you. When you do something you love, without intention, without competition, simply because it brings you joy or sweet relief, or some sense of being--and then someone listens, admires, responds, commends--it becomes so much more meaningful. It happens in the kitchen, when my style of cooking, simply for being tasty and being mine, becomes the ultimate compliment; when the bread i wake from a barely asleep state to create is more familiar to touch as dough, chewy and near-ideal and worth every hour of attention, a symbol of intention; when something you see as secondary becomes your strength; when what you do is suddenly not just for you.

Much love Moezer