Of long drives and torus-shaped pastries
Since classes do not meet anymore, and I have a good start on my work, we decided to run some errands today. First on the list, Tara needed art supplies, so we went to the art store. Mission accomplished.
Second on the list: real doughnuts, good doughnuts, doughnuts which could appease the cravings of the most ravenous beast. Only one doughnut could do for such an occasion: Krispy Kremes. Braving the misty, foggy wretchedness of Vancouver winters, we drove, southward and eastward, seeking the suburb of Delta and promised golden rings of exquisite taste. Through thick commuter traffic we drove, mocking the yuppies and their pathetic Tim Horton's "doughnuts" (hardly worthy of the name) for which they had settled in their Canadian ignorance. After over a half-hour of steady traveling, we saw the last rays of the milk-water sun, breaking through the clouds on that green and white chapel of decadence, humbly situated amongst the strip malls. We parked the car and fled through the cold, seeking the warm sanctuary of the bakery. We obtained our reward, one dozen Krispy Kremes (and a half-dozen for a friend that he, too, may know the divine glory of the supreme doughnut). Our mission complete, we drove back to the city, fueled by a few bites of our treasure and warm beverages from the kind hands of sacred priestess who delivered unto us our dearly-beloved pastry.
Doughnuts make life better.
Since classes do not meet anymore, and I have a good start on my work, we decided to run some errands today. First on the list, Tara needed art supplies, so we went to the art store. Mission accomplished.
Second on the list: real doughnuts, good doughnuts, doughnuts which could appease the cravings of the most ravenous beast. Only one doughnut could do for such an occasion: Krispy Kremes. Braving the misty, foggy wretchedness of Vancouver winters, we drove, southward and eastward, seeking the suburb of Delta and promised golden rings of exquisite taste. Through thick commuter traffic we drove, mocking the yuppies and their pathetic Tim Horton's "doughnuts" (hardly worthy of the name) for which they had settled in their Canadian ignorance. After over a half-hour of steady traveling, we saw the last rays of the milk-water sun, breaking through the clouds on that green and white chapel of decadence, humbly situated amongst the strip malls. We parked the car and fled through the cold, seeking the warm sanctuary of the bakery. We obtained our reward, one dozen Krispy Kremes (and a half-dozen for a friend that he, too, may know the divine glory of the supreme doughnut). Our mission complete, we drove back to the city, fueled by a few bites of our treasure and warm beverages from the kind hands of sacred priestess who delivered unto us our dearly-beloved pastry.
Doughnuts make life better.
cilantro:
This entry made me giggle. Such wonderful doughnut poetry!
lisa_why:
No, you're right...Same issue...