Yes, Flour

Well well.  Things are looking up.  My local flour supplier does carry organic bread flour after all.  They have the whole time!  Even when they told me they were no longer carrying organic flour!  Tee hee, I feel so silly for wasting weeks looking for a new source and constantly running low on flour!  I feel my sides might burst from laughing while I shout four-letter words!  Here’s a good chance to learn from my mistakes:  don’t ever trust the person that answers the phone at a business.  Talk to the supervisor.  By chatting up a woman at the bakery supply today, I might have even convinced her to special order me some organic high-gluten flour, which has been the unobtanium of the San Diego region, at least for me.

“Why no post yesterday?!” shout all my thousands of imaginary readers.  Since they are imaginary I’ve got no reason to respond.  But I will say I’ve been busy doing work that actually pays me, and none of this writing, baking, and food consumption that is an enjoyable but non-profit part of my life.  So there.

Last night we witnessed a gala of music, dance, and synchronization to rival the mechanized displays of human precision at the opening events of the Beijing Summer Olympics.  Yes, it was the annual graduation celebration/class concert at Toddler Harbat’s preschool.  When you consider that some children are there for almost five years, cared for as infants, toddlers, and finally as little children, graduation is a much bigger deal than high school or even college.  There were, conservatively, two hundred parents in attendance with camcorders whirring and yells of “Tyler!  Tyler!  Tyler!  Look at mommy!  Tylerrrrr!  TYLER!” punctuating the refrains of “Wheels on the Bus” coming over the loudspeaker.  Toddler Harbat’s class did a line dance involving stick clacking and suspiciously ninja-esque moves which alternated “hiding the billy clubs” with “brandishing them in a power display over your head.”  TH did marvelously well as did all the other classes with the exception of the youngest toddlers who, one by one, burst into tears after being brought to the center of a large crowd and forced to inquire whether people were happy and if so, might they clap their hands.

Mostly, it was an opportunity to see our little girl in her other environment.  She played with her friends, had pizza and popcorn, and danced in jubilation on the playground at what was normally bedtime.  I was especially taken watching her teachers as they led the children through their routines.  Seeing the pride and joy in their faces reminded me that teaching is a sacred and sorely underpaid profession, and all the lovely people who look after TH every day deserve medals of their own.

Here TH in the blue dress learns that jumping is contagious, and asks for a hug from one of her favorite teachers.  Whenever we come to these events we realize how lucky we are to have her at such a loving and happy environment.   Hooray for preschool!  Now gimme a cupcake.

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About Peter Soutowood

Writer, architect, father, husband.