More Fun

We are official now. First payment was received this morning. Woohoo! We're rolling in the dough! Now, if we can round up a few more customers maybe we can make some money too. We are working on it. We'll be over our heads soon, no doubt. That's the hope anyway.

This week has been relatively uneventful. Hence the lack of blog posts ("It's been dullsville." Says Kindra). But just for the sake of an update here are some happenings.

Highlights:

Heat Stroke
It’s been hot here in Oregon. At least hot for this place—Tuesday cracked 100℉. Such heat was acceptable to the cold-blooded type, like Kenny, but most poor Oregonians found the heat gruesome; completely undesirable. Shawna’s Apartment/current-bake-house is not air-conditioned. So, Kindra found the heat more undesirable than most Oregonians. Heat can take a toll on a body. Kindra endured remarkably, though, for one so feeble. All baked goodies were completed as normal. The weather has calmed down today, so it looks to be more enjoyable.

Kleptomaniacal Stupor
Today, Shawna and Kenny stumbled out of bed for the early morning shift (deliveries at 5:00 AM). Kindra got out of the early morning mayhem, but she deserves some respite. On the way to Bikini coffee, Kenny and Shawna were waylaid by a ridiculous Portland scene: the Morrison bridge was drawn to allow a tug-boat—no higher than 25 feet above the water line—to pass beneath. All traffic had to wait impatiently for the puny inconvenience to pass. 5:15AM is not a time of the day most people deem patience worthwhile. The thought was proffered during the stoppage that, perhaps, the Morrison bridge should be taller. “Pshhh!” Said Kenny. “That’s insane. Portland would never see the sense in making it taller.” He rolled his eyes. “Why don’t they just empty the river a little. That’d done fix it real good!”

The bridge finally reconnected and progress commenced.

The pastry delivery went well. The pastries were arranged in a pretty manner, the day olds were stowed in the tote, and proper signs were made. As bleary-eyed and bumbling as Kenny and Shawna were, all appeared in order. Orderly exit was made and the trip home commenced.

On arrival at home Shawna asked, “Have you seen my keys?”

“Nope.”

The rustle of searching through a messy Volvo ensued. The search availed nothing.

“I left them at Bikini then, I guess.” Shawna moped.

“I’ll have to go down there later and pick them up for you... or send Kindra.” Kenny offered his solution. He then gestured toward the tote in Shawna’s arms... and the towel (that belonged to Bikini Coffee) that rested thereon. “We could barter with them.”

“What?” Shawna was confused.

“We could trade them straight across: their towel—which you’ve somehow come to possess—for your keys.”

“Oh brother.” Shawna shook her head as she understood the situation. “Perhaps I need more sleep.”

“Perhaps.”