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appetite
By Carol Gibson
The Dingling O’ the Bowls Working in manual labor positions was always a soul connection of one kind or another. At the completion of a growing season working on the grounds of a huge religious retreat, I had wanted to prepare a going away meal for everyone. All of us being out door people, we kept a picnic table in the yard outside of the grounds building. My home was only a few blocks away, and I could easily transport the simple meal of stuffed peppers for the occasion. Though we shared our manual laborer status, the crew was diverse. George, our boss, was a tattooed, lovable scoundrel. He was a master manipulator, hence a great department manager. Jimmy, a jack-of-all-trades, was a charming Gemini. Mel was a retired attorney who was scared of me. His nickname for me was Rambo Gardener. Whenever this pet name came up, it was always accompanied with, “She could kick my ass in a heartbeat.” Thankfully, we had a female foreign exchange student from Slovakia. The two of us paired off away from the masculine element. Suzanna’s presence gave me the confidence to serve the heavily ethnic version of stuffed peppers I had learned from Grandma. During childhood, I had always been sort of embarrassed by my ethnic background, and this awkwardness has never completely gone away. With that said, the anxiety factor loomed even as I carried the crock-pot to the workbench and plugged it in. I wanted real bowls, so I brought my stoneware bowls, and real silver plated silverware, as a contrast to the otherwise earthy thematic. Everyone went through the workbench/buffet, serving up the colorful peppers and sauerkraut. George went through at the end making sure he would get some juice from the broth. When it was my turn, I got a sudden last minute anxiety about joining the crew at the picnic table. “Wonder if they like it?” I worried, momentarily. But in no time short, I picked up on the sound of silverware softly dingling the bowls. Had I been a wild creature, my ears would have been upright. I think they did move up happily just as I noticed the happy sounds of appetites fulfilled. Then of course, this gave me the confidence to go on out and join the rest. Relieved, the sight of the hungry eaters was a joy to see. I joined them, and soon my bowl, too, joined in to the happy rhythmic blend of the musical sounds and the dingling o’ the bowls.
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Miami Astrology Examiner
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What a fine, joyous intel, Carol.
Your doing for others, is one more way to truly recieve happiness!
Thank you for sharing with us.
Frederick
Dang! After reading your intel Carol, I got hungry. I often cook and share with the staff at my local convenience store. I regularly buy my meals there which they have to prepare for me, so I return the favour (except I don't charge them *smiles*). I also act as a courier and pickup pizzas or other takeaway meals for them and they pay for whatever I am having. It's a two way street, connected by food. Gotta love it!
It paints a great picture Carol. Good job!
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May, 2012
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