Moving Day Blues

  As I relace (by the way Webster does not acknowledge this word "relace") my moving shoes, my thoughts wander through the past eleven years. I know these shoes well. Somehow they are comfortable even after many years of neglect. Maybe I am a Gypsy.

"Medusa" by Jonathan Ewert

www.elfwood.com

  There are many details to work out. Dates need to be studied schedules need to be changed. Cable men worry the mind the most. Checkbooks stretch and creak, under the immense weight of deposits and fees. I recently found out what a concession fee was. What a holy crock of manure this concept is. By the way, breaking a lease brings out the Medusa apartment lease ladies. Anyway, Concession Fees are the monies that one would have paid if the lessor had not given such a remarkable deal. Such as, fifty bucks off the monthly rent (because possibly my hair was quite coiffed on a Wednesday). One must pay all of these discounts back as a penalty for being a Gypsy. People do not like us Gypsies. This is no good. (Go back and say those last two sentences with a crappy Russian accent to get the full effect.)

  I often wonder how much stuff I could get rid of. I have a full storage unit which I honestly have not missed much, save a barbecue grill and some fishing poles. I could just donate it all to charity and take a $3000 tax credit. No, the wife would not have that. We must have stuff. We must pack it in endless boxes and take them down endless flights of stairs. I wonder if the Japanese Tsunami survivors miss their stuff. Wait, stop. They are not Americans who save everything and buy bigger stuff every day. They are all minimalists except for the Sumo wrestlers. I am sure that they have a lot of stuff. They are the most American Japanese... then again, maybe not. They are very important and religious allegedly. They have shrines. That is what is missing from the WWE. Shrines. That is the ticket.

  Oh yeah, stuff is everywhere. Boxes scribbled with nonsensical descriptions of the contents. "Bathroom" or "Greg's Crap" are the norm. Some are unreadable and look like designs from a Mayan calendar. I have stubbed my toe thrice this evening. Look at Gypsy feet. They tell a story.

  More to come.

gf

Manuel's Bread Cafe ~ North Augusta, S.C.

  North Augusta has some weirdness.

  First of all, they should just change the name of the town. Geographically, I prefer "Mostly-North Augusta", "South Edgefield", or "East Aiken". Georgia should get commission from South Carolina for using part of Augusta's name. Create a "name tax"; that is the ticket. North Augusta tried out several names in the past, but none of them stuck. Savannah Town was named by the English. Again, another name borrowed from Georgia. Campbell Town failed miserably, probably due John Hammond's murder, not to mention greed. The construction of Augusta Canal, and the expansion of the railroad over the Savannah River to Augusta Georgia, derailed the town of Hamburg. The current "Great Recession" is (as in the past) an excellent opportunity to rename the city of North Augusta. I humbly suggest "New Hamburg" or "Campburg".

  Secondly, North Augusta has a newly fabricated "fake town". Yes, a new town existing within a town, which uses a borrowed name. I do not make this stuff up people. Hammond's Ferry is a community that looks like an old town. On every corner, (there are only two or three corners currently) there are buildings for businesses, some which are two and three stories tall. This gives the intersections an "old town" look. It also gives the community the fortune of landing restaurants such as Manuel's Bread Cafe, which sits smack dab in the middle of the aforementioned  "fake town" of Hammond's Ferry.

Créme Brulée French Toast – 7.95
Served with fruit salad and maple syrup.

  As odd as this new community may look during the beginning of its existence (by being built-up in an open and empty plot of land), I believe it is going to be exceptionally likeable "fake town" when finished. The price-point alone will keep out any wandering Gypsies (who may be visiting North Augusta from Murphy Village) from settling here. I mean; I did not happen to spot any Gypsies during my visit to North Augusta. One must always be on the look out for Gypsies.

Omelet – 9.95
Build your own farm-raised 3-egg omelet.

 Worrying not about Irish Travelers, we settled down to enjoy a pleasant brunch at Manuel's Bread Cafe. The spring weather enticed us to utilize the outdoor tables. Sitting outside we started to analyze this "fake town". We were more hungry than analytical, so we got down to business and ordered brunch.
  Hoping to special-order a spinach dish, I discovered that the community has "Blue Clay Farm" that provides local produce for the restaurant. The server offered to ask the Chef if he would be so kind to pick some spinach out of the garden for my request. I am still trying to figure out if he was pulling my leg or not.

Goat Cheese Scramble – 8.95
Scrambled eggs with fresh local goat cheese and chives on a slice of delicious artisan bread with your choice of fruit salad or smoked bacon home fries.

The food was excellent. It is expensive compared to a regular breakfast, but brunch at Manuel's Bread Cafe is not what I would consider a "regular" breakfast. This is a Hobbit breakfast. Food  is served with heavy silverware, fancy plates, and excellent coffee served in large handmade mugs. Loaves of bread, stacked everywhere, decorate the place with their crunchy looking crusts. Honey and jams hang out in the window frames, which color the interior with an amber hue. The chalkboards above the counter were being wiped down and rewritten for the day's specials. One does not get to enjoy these nuances at a Waffle House.



Someone ordered cake. I am sure that is a violation of some significance. However, it was technically brunch, and we were treating ourselves...NO!! Cake at brunch will not be tolerated moving forward (but it is delicious cake)!

Go check out Manuel's Bread Cafe. You will not be disappointed, but watch out for the Gypsies.

Thanks for reading,
gf