A Midweek Market Run and a New Pasta Salad

The market was busier than usual when I stopped by on Wednesday after work. I needed tomatoes, cucumbers, and some fresh herbs for a pasta salad I had been wanting to try. The recipe came from a magazine Lissa had left at our place last month. It called for a simple vinaigrette with mustard and a bit of honey, plus plenty of olives and feta. The produce section smelled sharply of basil and ripe strawberries even though it was only mid-July, and the tomatoes felt warm from the afternoon sun when I picked them up. A small boy kept tugging on his mom’s sleeve near the herb bins, pointing at the rosemary bundles and asking if they were for spaghetti. I grabbed a few extras while I was there, like some bread for the weekend and a bag of spinach that I could use in other meals. The checkout line moved slowly because they were installing new scanners at two of the registers. I ended up chatting with the woman behind me about how long it takes to get used to the self checkout machines. She had the same issue with the scale not reading lighter produce correctly, and she showed me the little paper receipt from her last trip that had printed the wrong weight for a bunch of carrots. Her cart also held a package of those fancy cookies with the chocolate drizzle, which made me think about picking some up for Ren later.

Back at home I got started on the salad right away. The pasta needed to cool before I added the vegetables, so I set that aside and worked on the dressing. The oil and vinegar smelled sharp when I whisked them together, and the honey stuck to the spoon in long golden strands. Ren came in from the garage around then and helped chop the cucumbers. He mentioned the dust from the western fields was kicking up again and making the air feel thicker outside. We kept the windows closed for a bit to avoid it coming in, though I could still hear the faint hum of the neighbor’s air conditioner through the glass. A small piece of cucumber skin flew off the cutting board and landed on the floor, which Ren swept up with his shoe before I could grab the broom. The finished salad turned out fine. The olives gave it enough salt so I did not need to add much more. We ate it with some grilled chicken on the side and watched an episode of that series about Nixon’s second term. It was interesting but I kept getting distracted by the sound of the neighbor’s dog barking next door, a steady rhythmic yap that seemed to match the beat of the background music on the show. Ren kept pausing the episode to ask if I remembered the part about the treaty negotiations, and I nodded even though my mind was mostly on whether the pasta had soaked up enough dressing yet.

Thursday was mostly work calls and emails. One of my clients wanted to change the fabric on a set of dining chairs, which meant another trip to the supply house next week. I used the break between meetings to water the plants on the back steps. The basil is finally starting to look decent after the last round of aphids, the leaves now a deeper green and curling slightly at the edges from the heat. A tiny spider had built a web between two pots, and I left it alone because it seemed harmless enough. Lissa texted in the afternoon about meeting up on Saturday. She wants to check out a new coffee place that opened near the riverwalk. We have not been there yet but the reviews say the pastries are worth it. I told her I would bring the leftover salad if there was any, and she replied with a string of emojis that included a coffee cup and a thumbs-up. The afternoon light coming through the office window made the screen on my laptop hard to read, so I pulled the blinds halfway down before typing out the rest of my reply.

Friday evening we stayed in and cleaned up the kitchen. Ren fixed the loose handle on one of the cabinets while I sorted through the mail. Nothing exciting, just bills and a catalog from a store I had ordered from once. The pages smelled faintly of perfume samples, and I flipped past the clothing section to look at the kitchen gadgets before tossing it in the recycling bin. A stack of old grocery lists fell out from between two envelopes, and I smiled at the one that still had “don’t forget the good olives” written in my handwriting from last month. The weekend looks pretty open so far, maybe a walk downtown if the weather holds.