My friend "M" once waxed
eloquently about breakfast.
During a lengthy retail career
she'd dedicated the majority
of her life to the office. Now
"retired", it was suddenly all
about her. After decades of
rushing out of the house she
was now able to experience
the ultimate of luxuries...
breakfast at home. That daily
ritual signified her transition
to becoming a human being.
Never a breakfast person, I do
adore my pot of morning java
plus an occasional slice of toast.
Until recently that's been it but
now I'm on an eternal vacation.
A carefree time when I can do
anything I want. But... frying
an egg is not on my bucket list.
Hence we've been dining out
most mornings since my return.
I guess my appetite is stimulated
by the idea of somebody else
doing the dishes. Over easy!
I'm working harder than ever.
The transition into our new
(old) home is all consuming.
My best friend "T" was with
us for two weeks transforming
our dining room. While house
guests are like fish... you know
the rest... thankfully "T" didn't
stink. Our menage a trois was
surprisingly ordinary. It was as
if she'd always lived with us.
After we enjoyed some coffee
it was time to go out to eat!
Rather than the office, we head to the
Pit each morning. On the way we stop
at any of the many breakfast eateries
we have here in our tiny metropolis.
One might think they're the same yet
each differs in ambiance, camaraderie,
and cuisine. My favorite is the Empire.
A rather tired joint, it's closest to home.
Somehow they make a great poached
egg, a skill that I've yet to master.
At some point our eating excursions
are going to have to end. While I've
lost some weight since not working,
it's not the healthiest of indulgences.
Once fully ensconced in the Passion
Pit, I'll putter around and make my
own toast with peanut butter. I'm a
creature of habit so once I'm in the
groove, all will be good. Besides,
I can still hear the lilt in "M's" voice
as she talked of making breakfast.
Hopefully from here on, I'll finally
have what she's having!
