pepperoni/pineapple/pickled jalapeno pizza
This morning I dreamt of fish tacos. The lightly battered ones you get in mexico, topped with cabbage and crema. Slowly awakening, the taste of fresh corn tortillas still on my tongue was heartbreaking. Soon I tell myself as I stumble from bunk to coffee maker and the disappointment held therein. Dreams of espresso and tacos are common these days. The Oasis closes for the winter in two days and my food production is slowing accordingly. Like a squirrel, I ferry the non-freezables in what’s left of my pantry out to the battery room where it will stay warm all winter. We are a closing crew of five and I’ve made a big pot of chili to carry us through the next couple days. The guys seem fine with that, but to break up the monotony I’m making pizza for dinner tonight- our last dinner with full water and power. The wind is up to its old tricks again, pummeling the building, sneaking in the cracks. I don’t feel sad about leaving this one room school-house, it is more like salvation at this point. I’m wise enough to know that you abandon the ship before it gets completely dashed to pieces. I’ll brave the journey back to land where I’ll fall to my knees, kiss the dirt and let the green things remind me what they smell like.