Sifting through the flour she found ‘mites’. They were
horrible little creatures that were living in her flour. She
didn’t like this. It gave her a really terrible feeling to realize
that she had used this flour just the other day to make
some bread. The bread had been so delicious. Was it the
‘mites’ that had made it that way. How could she have
eaten such hideous little creatures and not been aware
of it. And her whole family had eaten the bread too.
Should she tell them or just let them live in ignorance.
They say ignorance is bliss and in this case she thought
that might be the best course of action.

She liked to make her own bread. She hated going to the
bakery. But she had no choice. It would take too much time
to go to the store and buy flour and then come back home
and make bread. She needed to do what was faster. Go to
the bakery. Her husband didn’t like the bakery either. He
preferred her home baked bread. He was spoiled that way.
But she had no choice today, so it was off to the bakery.

When she got there he was just closing up shop. But,
she persuaded him to let her enter, telling him she promised
she would make a practical and speedy selection. However
when she entered the shop she was dismayed. Not by the
huge selection, because she knew what she wanted. She
was dismayed because she could not find it. How could he
not have ordinary rye bread in stock. And her husband didn’t
like anything else. She asked if he had anything close to
rye bread, and he suggested russian potato bread. Russian
potato bread? How would she explain that to her husband?
Then she thought about it for a moment, and declared to
herself that it was time for a change. He always had the
same thing, and she had no choice this time, so he would
just have to grin and bear it. Besides she thought she might
like russian potato bread. She hadn’t had anything different
in quite a long time. She paid the nice man, and thanked him
for his patience and help. He was quite good looking, too bad
she was just an old housewife.

So she had rebelled a little. It would be store bought
convenience bread, and a different one at that. No rye.
Tonight it was russian potato bread. And she had not had
to bake, which was a real relief after all. All of of us need
a little intermission from life’s burdens once in a while.

Her husband hadn’t liked the russian potato bread. He threw
a fit, and told her he wanted a divorce. She was quite upset,
darn near rattled to the nerves, after all she hadn’t had a
choice. She had had to go to the bakery because of the bad
flour. And he was the one who had purchased the bad flour
and brought it into the house. She said alright that was fine,
after all she somehow felt she had just had enough of him
and his domination. She went to stay with her sister.

The next day she went back to the bakery. The good looking bakery man was still there. He owned the shop. She told him
she was breaking away from her traditions. Getting out of a rut,
and she wanted to try something different. He suggested french bread, but she had had that many times in the past and was
really ready for something totally different and new. A new experience. He suggested sour dough bread. It had a strong
flavor, but this grew on most people as they learned to love,
savor it. She thought that was fine, it sounded wonderful. She
took a whole loaf to her sister’s that night for dinner.

The next day she saw the good looking bakery man at
church. However, he was with a very beautiful woman.
She felt stupid. The next day she went to a different bakery
and bought pugsley pickle bread. They all told her at the
shop that she would like it. She hadn’t liked it, and neither
had her sister.

The next day she tried to bake her own bread from scratch
just as she had done for years. But for some reason she
just couldn’t get into it. Everything was wrong. It wasn’t her
kitchen, it was her sister’s. She didn’t know where anything
was and she was not familiar with her sister’s quick bake
oven. It was a very hot day, and the kitchen was hot and uncomfortable. She felt miserable and out of place. She
decided to stick her head in the oven and end it all. End
of story…sorry there won’t be any follow-ups, or
continuing episodes. Once you bake your head, your dead.
Hey, maybe I’ll become famous for that quote, is it an original? -

JANE Á PARIS – “Once you bake your head, your dead.”

-she remembered having an easy bake oven as a little girl.
It was so exciting to make goodies and feel like a big girl.
How ironic that she was now ending it all in her sister’s
quick bake oven. Did life go in terrible circles sometimes.
Terrible vicious circles. Especially when the dark forces of life made sure that the circles happened. And happened again.
There were very dark clouds hanging over this poor woman’s

Copyright ©2008 JANE Á PARIS



Joined February 2008

  • Artist
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Artist's Description

This is a little story that is really about relationships, being powerless, sexuality, sexual abuse, domination, ruts, change, hope, competition, feeling out of place in life or not being able to find a comfortable role, giving up or losing hope, and the last part is about how our foundations can effect our life, and how the direction of our lives can be turned by negative experiences and forces.

Artwork Comments

  • Ushna Sardar
  • JaneAParis
  • Damian
  • JaneAParis
  • red addiction
  • JaneAParis
  • Heath30
  • red addiction
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