A light fish fell into place for dinner. Apoka could not believe her luck of finding the fresh fish at the market.
Well, luck had a big part in the plans.
Apoka went looking for an impressive meal. A simple meal meant to leave her guest with more than a positive feeling about her. While the invited boy had shown interest in the past dates, Apoka did not want to leave anything to chance. Her night would shine in the womanly art of cooking. She never felt less feminist and yet so anticipatory proud.
Fresh fish came onto the menu when she daydreamed into the fish counter and noticed an error. The fish she had looked at before was now re-priced in error. The mistake came home with her.
Into the make-shift kitchen, she felt a desire for long counters and matching pots with a variety of aprons to match. The unpacking of the groceries bought special for the night tarnished her image of the kitchen.
Such nice, white fish did not deserve to be hacked into fillets by her dulled beyond sharpening knives that didn't manage to cut nor match. The promise of perfection from her moment at the store dulled. She might not be able to rely on the fish's nature qualities to carry over her meal.
Nor could it carry over her excitement about the date to anticipation on the guy. Her fish would cook. Her kitchen would change that night. The boy would be himself and she would be Apoka. Someway, the night would proceed.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Apoka
In the mist of baking, Apoka felt a twinge of regret. Chocolate cupcakes, while popular, were a completely safe option to take.
"Why am I baking so safe?" entered her mind and rattled around her brain as she put down the cup of coco powder.
Apoka stood in her apartment kitchen with an efficient layout and bland colors. All the accent colors where items were given in a haphazard way. Family, friends, and college roommates had all bequeathed the items they most wanted to replace. She had accepted out of poverty, practicality, politeness, and a lack of thought as to her kitchen. Before committing to a kitchen style, she had received excess items from others and had no need to ponder her own style as the essential basics of a kitchen freely came. Yellow cups, plates with country edges, modern red mixing bowls...all nice items, all necessary items for a kitchen, but none managed to match or were what she would have picked out.
With the basics of her kitchen covered and barely in her first "real" job, Apoka tried not to let the decor bother her. She never thought about them bothering her enough to toss perfectly good items in favor of matching and pleasing items purchased cheaply from a large box store. Her needs were filled and she repressed the self-expression desires as being frivolous.
But it did bother her, enough to annoy subconsciously but not to consciously dispose of usable items to replace at a higher expense just to have them please her for their newness and matching style.
So while not able to consciously recognize that the used measuring cups given to her by an aunt, who happily replaced them, was the source of her irritation, she put away the coco.
In the fridge, she took out the lemon juice and went off recipe, beating with old wooden spoons left by a roommate.
"Why am I baking so safe?" entered her mind and rattled around her brain as she put down the cup of coco powder.
Apoka stood in her apartment kitchen with an efficient layout and bland colors. All the accent colors where items were given in a haphazard way. Family, friends, and college roommates had all bequeathed the items they most wanted to replace. She had accepted out of poverty, practicality, politeness, and a lack of thought as to her kitchen. Before committing to a kitchen style, she had received excess items from others and had no need to ponder her own style as the essential basics of a kitchen freely came. Yellow cups, plates with country edges, modern red mixing bowls...all nice items, all necessary items for a kitchen, but none managed to match or were what she would have picked out.
With the basics of her kitchen covered and barely in her first "real" job, Apoka tried not to let the decor bother her. She never thought about them bothering her enough to toss perfectly good items in favor of matching and pleasing items purchased cheaply from a large box store. Her needs were filled and she repressed the self-expression desires as being frivolous.
But it did bother her, enough to annoy subconsciously but not to consciously dispose of usable items to replace at a higher expense just to have them please her for their newness and matching style.
So while not able to consciously recognize that the used measuring cups given to her by an aunt, who happily replaced them, was the source of her irritation, she put away the coco.
In the fridge, she took out the lemon juice and went off recipe, beating with old wooden spoons left by a roommate.
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