ciara's best kitchen pic

Click on the picture to explore zoomed in. Jampacked with quintessential Haymarket moments and phenomena in this snapshot... plus, if you look carefully, you'll find Keith's nose.

battle of the breads

Two trays sat on the kitchen island, one on top of the other, sealed with aluminum foil.

"The kitchen smells delicious," I said, stumbling downstairs with my medusan morning hair.

"Keith is making bread pudding!" Sophia T. announced, and I saw Keith in her blue robe peering into the oven. "And Ciara made cinnamon rolls because she's a crackhead." Ciara had been discussing a new sticky rolls recipe yesterday, and she's prone to coming home, pulling a cone and preparing delicious snacks in the middle of her post-waitressing night.

I peeled the foil back and showed the contents to the crowd. Mmmm. "The dough's still rising," Lisa W pointed out. Aaah. My hunger would have to wait for the lemon timer to ring, cuing Keith to put down the Times and serve up his bread pudding.

Haymarket Sunday pick-up brunch rolled along, Lisa, Arianna, Sophia, Keith and myself chatting about the paper, the politics of diamonds and gold, and the 5 gallon bucket of ice cream I'd seen a man hand to Arianna in the hallway last night. We bid farewell to Sophia & Keith to get ready for a date to the aquarium.

Half an hour later, Ben wandered in and immediately went for the trays of rising cinnamon roll. Three of us spoke warnings at once, spilling on as Ben seemed both confused and intent on ignoring us.

Arianna: You shouldn't open that, it's Ciara's. Ben don't, no, that's rising. It was -
April: Don't use that, if you're hungry there is bread pudding over there. No! Eat the bread pudding, that's -
Lisa: Hey Ben, that's actually rising, you shouldn't open that -

Ben raised his hand to stop us. "You can't tell me what to do with this..." My shoulders squared and eyebrows raised. I opened my mouth to reply. "...Because I'm the one making it."

(Pause.)

Another rush of overlapping speech.

Arianna: Oh, we thought it was Ciara's baking project and it was still rising.
April: Oops, funny, sorry Ben, you're making cinnamon rolls?
Lisa: I wonder why Sophia thought Ciara made those?

Ben laughed. "But I do commend you on your serious safeguard efforts."

And we served up bread pudding.

Goodonya Keith.

dr. mario anonymous

David struggled to read the text on the blackboard above the dinner table, where we sign up for agenda items with approximate time allocations. "Vidergoblleiagkasdjsadg... err... Ben." He read.

"Um, ok," Ben began, searching quietly for words. "I know that many of us enjoy the nintendo. But, I have an addictive personality and I have been having a problem. Um. I've been staying up all night sometimes. I play and I can't stop, and just like an alcoholic shouldn't have alcohol in the house..." he looked around, "I would like to ask that you remove the video games. Their presence is detrimental to my work and scholarship." He said he was risking his job and college career.

It was later relayed to us additionally that the rumoured considerations to move out by Ben are in great part related to our easy access to the video games, ancient and wonderful, made accessible by Brian about 4 months ago and creating junkies on all floors of the house.

Brian volunteered to hide the controllers in a place that Ben couldn't find them, but others could know about. It was agreed.

...........

I just walked into the living room, lit by the new Christmakwaanzakuh Bush... and Ben's laptop. (Or someone's laptop. The last I saw Ben's was in the refrigerator on Sunday.)

"What are you watching?" I asked.

"Dexter. Have you seen it?"

"Nein," said I. "But I know Ciara and Sophia are both addicted and Glenn watched it and liked it a lot..."

Ben looked guilty. "Yeah..."

"This is because we hid the game controllers, isn't it?" I asked.

Only a silent, sheepful grin.