“Do you want me to wrap your sausage in a tortilla?” I asked Ming. Oh my. He just got up, and I’d cooked two veg sausages while he was still sleeping.
“Uh, I don’t know,” he said.
He ended up eating his sausage just on a fork, standing in the kitchen, still waking up. His hair was going every which way, eyes half-closed. Later I asked, “Did you really not want to eat your sausage wearing a tortilla?”
“A tortilla is too small,” he said. “It wouldn’t fit me.”
“Well, of course it would fit, if we stitched enough of them together. That’s the classic way.”
“It is the classic way,” he said.
“For a while,” I said.
“Yeah, until I started eating them.”
“Chomp chomp chomp.” Some people don’t visualize, but some people over-visualize, to be sure.
“Really, I love tortillas around sausages. They’re a great way to get a grip. They really help me handle sausages.”
“Way better sensorily. Holding a tortilla is way better than holding a bare sausage. Euuuuugh!”
“Euuuuuugh!” Ming said, shivery.
It got cold all of a sudden here. Some wild wind blew in coldness. The wind was intense, making dust fill the air with confusion. We couldn’t see the mountains. It was like–is that cloud? Fog? Smog? Smoke? Dust? I decided dust, but it looked white. Usually the dust is tan.
A lot of people’s allergies went nuts. This cloud is not what the windstorm looked like at all. This is a chill, lovely, reaching cloud.
These clouds were by Trader Joe’s the other morning. I took a parking lot perimeter walk, while Ming shopped for flowers, fresh basil, bananas. Accidentally I stumbled upon someone’s encampment. I don’t think I woke them up with my quiet footsteps.
This is an unrelated veg sausage on a bed of quinoa, also for Ming when he woke up.
I hope you’re getting the sausage you need and properly nourished to your particular body and cravings to do the work of God. Love to your journey.