My First Day of Work

I am excited about my first morning of work and everything goes well. Martin Phoenix and I make lunch for everyone and while we are sitting out under the umbrella in the back yard, potter wasps are attracted to the food. When all we have left to eat is dessert, we go inside. It is crème brûlée and we made it by baking a custard base of cream, vanilla, eggs, and sugar, and then burning sugar on top by putting the dish under the grill. My mother says I should really think of becoming a chef, but I think she should just shut up about that.

My favorite foods are pancakes and hamburgers, even though I didn't want to eat a hamburger once with a boyfriend I met last summer. At least I think he was my boyfriend. There were two boyfriends then, one for a few days, and one for just a few minutes. I hope soon I will collect another boyfriend who likes me and who I like, and that the relationship lasts longer than it did with those two.

I like the crème brûlée, even if Martin Phoenix told everyone it was called poop pie.

This afternoon, I get the white bicycle out of the garage and follow the lane. I pass the garbage cans. I pass the recycling unit. I pass a green wire fence and see that clusters of small white snails have gathered on the top of each post.

I stop the bicycle and go over for a closer look. I wonder why they have chosen this particular fence to climb. I wonder why they went to the highest points possible on the fence and why they are gathered together. Maybe they are mating. It seems disrespectful to look at them, if they are doing some kind of group sex, but I study them for a minute more before I go. Most of them seem to know the rules about clustering as high as possible, but there are a few snails lower down on the fence that haven't caught up to the others. I feel sad for them but I leave them there. They will find their way. I am sure of it. They just might take a little longer than the rest.

I see some red and white marks on the trees and decide that when I get back I will ask Luke Phoenix what these mean. If he does not know, I will ask Alan Phoenix, and if he does not know, I will ask Martin Phoenix. If none of them know, I will not ask my mother. I am tired of asking her things because sometimes she just doesn't answer, and sometimes she talks too much.

I think again about how a mind could be on a suitcase and suddenly I get it. You can make up your mind, which means you can make a decision, just like you can put your mind down on something, which means resting it there and thinking about a topic for longer than a few seconds. And while you are resting your mind, someone can ask you, "Penny for your thoughts?" just like Alan Phoenix said to my mother, even if your name isn't Penny, which hers is.