Semi-Daily Scribbles
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Lena and Will ambled toward the back of the restaurant and slid into one of the large, dark stained wooden booths that had just been cleared away. A petite woman sporting a Louise Brooks haircut and signature pub t-shirt breezed by their table with place settings and menus.
“Our special tonight is seared bison in a huckleberry wine reduction on a bed of mâche, frisée, and ramps,” she said in a nasal twang. “I also recommend the blackberry-fiddlehead fern entree salad with shaved Rogue River Blue and pan roasted hazelnuts. The brew special this month is Goudy Stout. Can I start the two of you off with something to drink?”
“I’ll have an Arnold Palmer,” Lena replied with a grin as she watched Will toss aside the menu he was squinting at.
“I guess I'll try one of your Goudy Stouts." He jerked his head in surprise when the party upstairs unleashed a celebratory roar. With a calm, pleasant smile, the hostess nodded, waving in new arrivals that stood blocking the doorway. Will sighed, rubbing his eyes.“I didn’t understand what she was going on about with the ramps and river, but at least I know what stout is.”
“Yeah, but what does a Goudy taste like?”
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Margaret pulled from her silk purse the roots and leaves she hoped would chase away her daughter's nightmares. She stood on tiptoe in the potting shed and stretched to reach the topmost shelf. Margaret had taken to hiding her tools when Mrs. Baxter, the neighbor, asked to borrow a cup of sugar one day. Mrs. Baxter returned to her pink house next door with the sugar, three eggs, a pound of butter, and "the darling mixing bowl with the chicken." Margaret stepped into the living room for a minute to check on Lexie as her neighbor scooted off with the loot. Had she remained in the kitchen chatting, Margaret would have most assuredly told Mrs. Baxter her darling chicken bowl was not used for mixing cake batter.
Semi-Daily Scribbles 