At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Wednesday, July 05, 2017


There were five old geezers in the back when I walked on. One of them nodded a friendly greeting, and the counter woman brought me my pastries and tea. You are right, I am a very predictable man. I did what I always do when some dumbass celebration leaves me out in the cold.

Saint Patrick's and Cinco De Mayo? Tea and pastries.
Passover? Tea and pastries.
July Fourth? Tea and pastries.
Indian Independence Day? Tea and pastries.
Rosh Hashana ecetera? Tea and pastries.
Columbus? Tea and pastries.
Guy Fawkes? Tea and pastries.
Thanksgiving? Tea and pastries.
December 25th.? Tea and pastries.

I seek refuge at a Chinatown bakery.

You probably think that's monotonous.

I am resolved to bellyache about it less, though. I realize that my social wiring is not conducive to inclusion, and I am just not friendly enough.
Nor safe enough to trust around your kin and a Weber grill.
Or your fabulous collection of assault rifles.
And I'm cool with that. So there.
I can burn stuff on my own.

While I was enjoying my snackipoo and keeping my ears cocked for remarkable locutions -- which is what being white and speaking Cantonese encourages -- a couple and their child wandered in to examine the pastry case. The tyke was immediately enchanted by the lovely slices of cake, with frosting, fruit, and whipped cream.

"Ooh, red! Red! Red!"

That must've been the decoration. I couldn't see what she was looking at from where I sat, but I've had their cakes before, so I can imagine it.
They make lovely stuff.

The kid's exclamation was not loud, not piercing, and not obtrusive. She sounded far more composed than her size and presumed age would indicate. There was depth there, she really liked the cakes.

Her parents were a Filipina and a gentleman who could have been either Hispanic or Filipino. Hard to tell. They had produced a beautiful daughter, well behaved, whose expression of hopeful happiness at the displayed goodies was extremely likable.

"Please, can we have some cake?"

Honest yearning. A respectful plea. The father told the counter woman that they needed three slices, and when the little girl realized that her parents would also have cake, her face lit up.
Cake! For all of them!


She really was the most beautiful thing in the store at that moment.
And quite utterly charming.

I had a very good July Fourth. That charsiu sou and the daan taat were exquisite. The milk-tea hit the spot.

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All correspondence will be kept in confidence.


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