So much of our lives are about cash and bread. Dream and wake, clock in and converse, kiss and bicker, eat and read. I knew a bus driver who quit his job as an appendix surgeon to drive a bus and was as happy as a puppy in a purse. “Sure, it’s routine,” he said, “but so was operating on appendices. You’ve seen one appendix; you’ve seen them all. But the characters I get to meet on this bus…” The smoothie mustache I get in the morning, the waif-like yet exuberant customer service representative at the bank, the gentle, even-tempered instrumental hymn music that greats me as I walk into my apartment building, how adorable I feel when my husband squeezes me, the cash I handle and the bread I slice, that’s what this blog is about.