A day does not go by but with some time carved out for my breakfast. This is my church, my religion. Breakfast is sacrosanct. Pastries are my love language.
I begin each day with a salad. That’s right, a salad. When lettuce is abundant in my garden, my salad is huge. Other days, when my harvest has been skimpy, it might be only a leaf or two. In very dry greenery seasons, fruit will have to do, or a Wegman’s-procured avocado. But every single day, I begin with a salad of some sort.
I know people who would look askance at this very sensible way to begin a day, carnivores mostly. It certainly keeps me regular, no complaints in that department. Can a carnivore boast the same? It’s what comes after the salad that others might find me in grave error, especially carnivores, those carb-phobic self righteous numskulls.
During the salad course, I peruse my emails, all three of them. One of those is AOL if you can believe that. I love that account and its nearly 5000 unread emails, many of them left unread so that I would get back to them when I could. Old friends searching us out from Germany, old employees wanting to reconnect. I have twenty years of saved emails to get back to someday. That’s going on my bucket list.
On to the morning entree!
I must have a sweet with my morning half-cup of coffee. Not terribly sweet, though. Nor horribly big. Lots of fat, butter preferred. Enough to dribble down my chin is always nice. I go through a lot of butter. It’s the one and only thing in a grocery store that I buy extra of if it’s on sale.
A bite of sweet swished down with a whoosh of hot coffee. Bite, swoosh. Bite swoosh. I make sure the last bite of pastry is the perfect bite, just the right balance of all the components. I savor that last chomp fully. Then the very last swoosh of coffee. And that is that.
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