Moline (pop 553) is our final destination for the day and we decided to make use of our new-found treasure trove of bread, so upon arrival I asked a girl of about 12 where the town’s store was. For some reason, in a town of 553, she wasn’t able to tell me. I thought I’d try the other end of the age spectrum and asked an elderly woman where I could buy some peanut butter and jelly. She looked at my bike and, with raised eyebrows, asked, 

“Peanut butter and jelly?”  

I told her we had the bread, but nothing to put on it. 

“Well, the store closed at six, but you come on over to my place. I think I’ve got something to go on that bread.”

I waited for William to catch up, then followed the directions she gave to her house. Mrs. Hawkins, who introduced herself before leaving, insisted on making us dinner. I personally put away three sandwiches, again stopping out of politeness. 

She also served a “friendship cake,” which I learned needs to be started seven weeks in advance. As I was writing this entry I googled “friendship cake" and found recipes for a “thirty day friendship cake” which, had I not been in the know about the seven-week preparation, would have thought it was for people who were only going to be your friend for a month. 

Of course, the way my brain works, I wondered what would cause a person to be your friend for only a month.

"Here's a thirty day friendship cake. Also, I just talked to your doctor."

"Thanks for your girlfriend's number. I'll check on her periodically while you're gone. Oh, and I baked this cake for you."