goat cheese & spanish novels

stuffed peppers, broccoli, donuts

Lane and I decide that I will prep more goat cheese for the red pepper tomato bisque. I'll chop up hunks of whole goat cheese, we'll keep it in a small insert like the fresh mozzarella. I go and look but find it, Lane shows me the egg-shaped lumps in dark foil. He give me a switchblade to cut it with. Working at the big wooden table in the kitchen. I cut one lengthwise, then try to slice it down. The knife is sharp but is the wrong tool, the wrong shape. It has a knob just above the tang that keeps me from drawing all the way down. I try different knives in the kitchen, but the paring knife (looks like my Global paring knife) isn't very sharp; I try a wierd axe that looks like a Tibetan ritual item in stainless, but it's too unwieldy. The foil on the cheese has become a hard, thick plastic or wax shell.

The cheese pieces turn into Spanish novels and religious books, all with cheap, small-press-looking covers. I throw them one at a time into a big box or trunk lined with a black plastic bag. (Looks like a big version of the roasted chile box i peeled this fall.) I weep for each that I drop into the box. There are other people around, participating, and there is a reference in this action to something historical, but we're enacting it in reverse, putting books in rather than lifting them out.