When I was little my Grandma Lucy used to make me toast in her toaster oven. The bread was always smaller than I was used to, which added to its charm, and the toast would be crisper than toast from a regular toaster. She would pull the toast out of the oven and place it on one of her beautiful china plates, slather it with Adams's natural peanut butter, and slice it into fingers. Toast, the simplest of foods, was made special by the loving touches of my attentive great-grandmother. Maybe that's why I love toast so much. Invoking the spirit of my grandmother, I made fingers for Norbu this morning, and I missed her. Perhaps all the karma I would prefer to be rid of has been worth it to have been accompanied by the karma that has brought me into contact with so many wonderful people, even if I'm not with most of them anymore.