Before the weight of the world came crushing down squarely on my shoulders, there was a time when I was fun and carefree. High school in Summer, I used to hang out at the beach from morning until 3ish - I worked 2nd shift at a greyhound racetrack. All day long, a friend of mine, Rick Sanchez, and I would bask at the beach and bronze ourselves for the ladies.
Our precious stash of money was reserved for a Kelly's roast beef sandwich and if the opportunity was available, we'd steal more cash to get fries with that. Mostly poor, our entertainment came from our own idle minds. We'd crafted images of ourselves high atop the beach wall as sun gods wearing shiny gold medallions like kings. In lieu of a gold medallion and perhaps fueled by a beverage we managed to find, or get someone to find, we believed soap on a rope would suffice.
Next to a Kelly's roast beef sandwich, CheezIts were our next favorite food on earth; we created scenarios in which the salty savory treat was society's currency. We envisioned many poker games in Vegas and how we'd play our tasty chips.
Donned with soap on a rope, standing in the sun, elevated on the beach wall with a big handful of CheezIts was an image we yearned for and reserved for only our most supreme accomplishments (getting into a bar under aged, conversing with the bikini-clad, etc.) and it's a vision I carry with me now that symbolizes a less burdensome time and a symbol of accomplishment.
Yesterday I baked, with intention, some crackly-surfaced breads: crisp, caramel colored, tasty, a work still very much in progress, but the result was worthy of celebration.