Murphys

There's a new coffee shop in Murphys, and no, it's not Starbucks. It's a reincarnation of an older one, The Gold Country Roastery, that has been here longer than I have. It really is a roastery, and the smell of the roasting beans used to fill the east (I think it's east) corner of Main Street every Monday morning. The big, beautiful, copper roaster, in its old location was in the center of the room, like a behemoth of a pot belly stove. Now, in place a block away, the roaster sits in state behind a huge window of glass and looks like something in a museum. But it is still roasting our coffee - very good Italian dark. The space used to be a photography studio, and its walls are painted a color we were told was purple chocolate. (There I was again, without my camera, but I can go back seven days a week, and there will be another chance.) Barbaranne and I sat at a little table in the window, looking out on Scott Street. While we were drinking our coffee, we were each knitting spa washcloths for sale at the October Independence Hall Quilters Faire boutique. I've never used the technique before of knitting from both ends of the ball of yarn before, and spent much of my time untangling. I'll get the idea before I finish my eighth washcloth, I am sure.


Reading: The Women's Room is quite confusing and maybe the reason I don't remember any of it is because I didn't finish it. There's a first person, an "I," who appears from time to time, and this person just this moment owned up to the snarls of time. The book was written in 1977, and so far takes place mostly in 1955 to '59. Mostly, I say, because there are small sections which seem to be 1967. The women are about a half a generation ahead of me, so all is familiar and nothing is familiar.