Stepping in from the chill.

[entelein]

When I go home from work in the evenings, I sometimes take a bus to the train stop, if the weather is supremely crappy - the traffic flow and congestion on the sidewalks can be terrible in pleasant weather. When there's raindrops to dodge, and large gutter backups of slush and dirt, pedestrians engage in a weird pecking order warfare of speeding up and slowing down and cutting each other off, and a simple half-mile walk becomes torture.

Most of the time I walk, though, even when it gets bad. My little Shuffleupagus (lovingly named by dasrokast) keeps me company very very well, and entire blocks will devolve and dissolve to craquemusic, or some very loud Harvey Danger.

Either way, I end up rounding a corner of a large, old stonework building that houses a large bagel shop. It always looks warm and inviting and golden in the mornings, and then empty and dark in the evenings.

But I always notice, on the homeward trip, as I pass near some outlet vents near one of the entrances, a delicious bakery smell emanating from the place. It's that exciting not-quite-food-but-cooking smell that you get when first mixing dry and wet ingredients together for cookies. It's the after-image of heat being applied to dough and butter and powdered sugar hitting my nose. It is entirely comforting. I look forward to that whoosh of air hitting my head and surrounding me with the last of today's bagels, right before I skip down the hard steps leading to the underground train.

This morning, I went into the bagel shop for the first time, and after some deliberation, got myself an everything bagel with cream cheese and lox. It was a bit extravagant, I know.

It was still one of the best breakfasts I've had in some time. Add to that a particularly well-measured pot of coffee, and my morning routine at work was a bit more upbeat than usual.

A photo taken a few months back looking up at the second floor of this building