English 100, 2010

Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Giulia Workshop- WORK
Giulia Baldo
03/19/10
English 100- Work


Flour

Working hard to press and mold, to shape and mix; making sure to leave no clumps, no bumps, nothing but smooth, thick mix. I lick the spoon and my taste-buds explodes at the overdoes of chocolate. The mix of cake batter and chocolate chips is just too much for my mouth and I have to wash it down quickly with milk. It reminds me of way my mom used to shower us with chocolate for Easter and Christmas. A delicious mix of white, milk and dark chocolate; a shower that caused our mouth to drool continuously.
A shopping experience that made us shake with anticipation, a shiver of delight. She would smile a gentle smile, look over the candy isle, tilt her head, pondering which to choose. Cosa Dici Giulia? Quale ti piace? How was I to know, how could I make such an important decision? Silently I would point at the milkie-ways, or the milk dud, caramel always favored. She would make a note and put a bar of each in our cart. Over flowing with food, she would push the cart through the super market, planning in advance what she would cook for dinner, which wine she would serve, the dishware she would set. Always working to make the dining experience, the first thing my father did when he got off work and got home, perfect.

Milk

A slow pore of milk, splashing into the bowl of cereal. Sweetening the taste of my honey nut cereal, adding to the tasty taste. The sweet, refreshing taste wets my appetite and pushes me to slurp up the remaining milk from the bowl. All three of us kids sitting all together, fighting over the cereal and who can fit the most Lucky Charms into our mouths. Never knowing that two of us were allergic and that the other would feel so left out that all three of us stopped eating it. Laughing as we changed to frosted flakes and raisin brand.
My mother no longer slaves away in the kitchen to please my father, instead she flips pancakes and whips waffles, only for her own and our pleasure. We enjoy the show, whistling and holding our breath as she throws a pancake into the air and catches it with the frying pan. The food is healthier, made with organic flour and eggs, the pounds of butter once used has been replaced with sugar, caramelized into a golden lace, beautiful but healthier. We know that breakfast is the last time we’ll see our mother for the day, then school will take us away as she whisks herself into her, to go to work. Selling furniture, she smiles at the customers and manages to convince them to buy when all they planned on was looking.
Once when I went to work with her for bring your daughter to work day, I was shocked at the transformation I saw, she grew into a women of confidence of self possession, able to smile a different smile, no less beautiful but more charged with energy instead of love. She thrived on working, her eyes twinkling selling, amours, dressers, beds, statues, couches, recliners, love seats. Children’s bedroom furniture, twin beds, a princess dresser set, white with pink roses decorating the top and the handles of each dresser drawer, a bronze iron rose.

Butter

I sneak into the kitchen and butter the toast, trying to be as quite as possible so that I don’t wake my sister’s guests who are sleeping over for my sister’s birthday. Reminding me of how I used to sneak into the kitchen when I was little and steal a whole stick of butter from the fridge and slowly eat the whole stick. I shudder as I think of how fattening it is, but it’s the most delicious taste, a sin I can’t resist. Nothing as good as my mother’s home baked bread toasted and covered with a thin layer of butter. I glance at the table and smile at the photos strewn around the aisle and the countertops. Photos that symbol my mother’s first step in taking control of her life, of choosing to do something she loves, more than work she now does pleasure. She is a professional photographer and she loves snapping the pictures of those who would be great. Men, women, children, babies. Little girls prancing in tiaras, women in nothing but fur and lace, men stripped of their t-shirt, baring their tattoos. All want to be models, actresses, actors, STARS. She nods, tells them to turn into the light, tilt their head, and smile.
Her passion has inspired me to also do want I want, now studying English I relish the taste of real food, making the college food I usually eat taste like cardboard in my mouth. I shudder at the memory and pretend that I won’t have to go back to eating it tomorrow when I return to school. I am starting on my dreams, making strides to follow my passions and becoming who I want to be.