Sweet Sunday Mornings....

Sunday Mornings should be sweet. 

That is what

 I said to the hubster yesterday morning. 

He looked at me, head cocked like the dog... I explained. 

When I was a young one, my dad would get up early and head the mile into town and buy crumb buns and sweet rolls at the local bakery. Do not confuse these items with anything that comes in a box and says Entemanns.... 

He would also pick up hard rolls. 

My husband, also being an East Coaster understands what these are. 

A roll the size of a grapefruit, slightly hard and crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. 

We would slather butter on them or make the most amazing sandwiches for lunch.

 Perfection is the only word that describes them. I didn't realize these treats were considered regional foods, i.e. metropolitan N.Y. delicacies until moving to the midwest.

Heck, crumb buns are German...... the midwest is full of Germans.

Look at all the Lutheran churches, German shepherds and Bratwurst.. okay, okay.

Can ya make me a crumb bun for Pete's sake? (Who is Pete?)

And please, for the love of Pete (?) stop putting your warm bread in plastic bags and tying it up. Your suffocating it.

Add... the lack of Italians... 

so the pizza is strange too. 

No Italian bakeries equal no Italian cookies.

Do you feel me? 

It has reached a point where I now look at Panera and think it must really be a bakery. 

No!

I need an intervention. Someone put a box of powdered sugar under my nose. Bring me back to my N.Y. senses... feed me a cannoli!

I remember going to weddings when I was a kid. The best part were the trays of cookies that would be placed on each table. Oh my....

black and whites, pignoli, anise, butter, almond, biscotti... and more.

Yet, 

when we visited the bakery yesterday and the sweet girl at the counter told me she had never heard of crumb buns and that if I wanted Rye bread I would have to place an order for it. Serious?

Yet, I could not help but like her and my new community. 

She couldn't have been nicer.

This bakery was French... what? 

How does that happen here? 

They did have rolls they called French rolls that looked like they might be mini hard rolls. I bought two. They were small, expensive, and overrated. 

They seemed a little smug too.

Hmm....

She came back with a loaf of bread and said it was on the house. 

She said it was a loaf of rye she had found in the freezer. Where do I even start with that... and yet, I should be grateful. I am. 

I looked at the loaf and I realized it was pumpernickel. I smiled (giggled a little) and kept my mouth shut. Really. I didn't see the point.

Look, she was either trying to be Wichitawesome or she was trying to get me out of there. 

Either way, smile and say thank you.

The bread was delicious, if not rye.

Probably the best pumpernickel I have ever had.... really.

The day before we had found a shop that sold dog food and supplies. We met the owner and and she proceeded to give us multiple bags of free dog food samples. She was so helpful I thought there must be a camera somewhere and a commercial in the making.

She couldn't have been nicer.

I told my husband that I wish people would stop being so nice here. Again, he cocked his head at me. He wonders about me, I know.
I explained that I didn't want to like it... that much. 

I just want to like it a little bit, just enough, but not enough to steal my heart.

Been there, done that.

Isn't that how we are though? We want what we want.... We think we can control and plan and ultimately decide how things will go?  

We revert to what we are comfortable with, how we grew up, the familiar.

The truth is the sweetness in life comes from the Giver of all that is sweet, good, pure, lovely and true. He will offer me sweets along this journey but I can't get stuck in the past. He teaches me from my past but points me to the path in front of me. 

These people who cross my path...... He has provided for me, and if the bread or bun doesn't taste the same, then find the new pleasures it possesses.

Anything less, is to throw the blessings in His face and tell Him I want to choose. His choice for me isn't good enough. 

Wow.. when I think of it that way, I am ashamed.

This life is a sweet, sometimes painful journey. The journey does not have an address here and the destination will only be reached when this life is over.

Until then,

He has planned my days and I will rejoice in them and the plans that He has for me..

Plus, I have a whole loaf of pumpernickel waiting for me.

Yumm.....

Wishing you Sweet Sundays.