Breakfast Today
Breakfast, she chuckles, riiiight. I say "breakfast" but since I dragged my keester out of bed today at 11:51 am I guess I mean "lunch". I think noon (which is what time it was when I had gotten up, rubbed my eyes, peed and put on water for coffee) is too late to even be talking about brunch, isn't it?
[Yes, I know, howling protesters, that I had promised a post about my new tattoo next. The fact is that I don't have any good pictures yet and keep forgetting to get Ramon to photograph it. Mea culpa. I have some bad pictures - I took them right after I got it and it's all puffy and raw-looking, the arm-hair's shaved off and my whole wrist is shiny from smearing the most excellent Burt's Res-Q Ointment on it, which is Serena's (my Tattooist For Life) highest recommendation for after-care. Call me vain. Go on...I've been waiting for my arm-hair to grow back.]
For breakfast I had French-press coffee - my favorite - and twenty magillion pieces of sourdough toast with butter (Earth Balance, actually, which I prefer). The Last Two Pieces, which I would've liked to have devored at the speed of light and thus taken me from Pleasantly Full to Wishing I Were Dead, I saved. I saved them because I am a wonderful wife and Ramon might want a lovely grilled-cheese-on-sourdough sandwich when he gets home from work. And my grilled sandwiches are matchless (unless I burn them, which is never my fault. They burn only when the cat throws up inside the VHS player or the toilet overflows or an atomic bomb goes off outside our apartment or the burner's being tricky), especially because the fact that those last two pieces of sourdough have been ripped from my grasping, trembling hands and I swear Ramon can taste, along with crispy buttered bread and melted Colby Jack cheese, the love and self-sacrifice the went into putting that damned sandwich into his hands.
This is my favorite sort of Saturday, messing around on the computer or reading a book, nibbling fruit, sipping various caffeinated beverages and watching the cats blink in sunbeams. The only sounds are my own breathing, the cats moaning and huffing as they wake up and stretch from time to time and the music I play. Poor Ramon works every other weekend and while I prefer him to be here (if he were here, by the way, we'd be up by 10 and browsing in used bookstores by now) I also love the days when it's me, B'Elanna and Simone watching dust dance in the sun. The only hitch is that if I don't eventually get dressed and working on laundry (or dusting, come to think of it) I'll suffer the moral discomfort of A Day When Nothing Is Accomplished, which, though I admit to being a pretty chronic slacker, still makes me break out in hives.
Happy Weekend to you all.
Cerise
[Yes, I know, howling protesters, that I had promised a post about my new tattoo next. The fact is that I don't have any good pictures yet and keep forgetting to get Ramon to photograph it. Mea culpa. I have some bad pictures - I took them right after I got it and it's all puffy and raw-looking, the arm-hair's shaved off and my whole wrist is shiny from smearing the most excellent Burt's Res-Q Ointment on it, which is Serena's (my Tattooist For Life) highest recommendation for after-care. Call me vain. Go on...I've been waiting for my arm-hair to grow back.]
For breakfast I had French-press coffee - my favorite - and twenty magillion pieces of sourdough toast with butter (Earth Balance, actually, which I prefer). The Last Two Pieces, which I would've liked to have devored at the speed of light and thus taken me from Pleasantly Full to Wishing I Were Dead, I saved. I saved them because I am a wonderful wife and Ramon might want a lovely grilled-cheese-on-sourdough sandwich when he gets home from work. And my grilled sandwiches are matchless (unless I burn them, which is never my fault. They burn only when the cat throws up inside the VHS player or the toilet overflows or an atomic bomb goes off outside our apartment or the burner's being tricky), especially because the fact that those last two pieces of sourdough have been ripped from my grasping, trembling hands and I swear Ramon can taste, along with crispy buttered bread and melted Colby Jack cheese, the love and self-sacrifice the went into putting that damned sandwich into his hands.
This is my favorite sort of Saturday, messing around on the computer or reading a book, nibbling fruit, sipping various caffeinated beverages and watching the cats blink in sunbeams. The only sounds are my own breathing, the cats moaning and huffing as they wake up and stretch from time to time and the music I play. Poor Ramon works every other weekend and while I prefer him to be here (if he were here, by the way, we'd be up by 10 and browsing in used bookstores by now) I also love the days when it's me, B'Elanna and Simone watching dust dance in the sun. The only hitch is that if I don't eventually get dressed and working on laundry (or dusting, come to think of it) I'll suffer the moral discomfort of A Day When Nothing Is Accomplished, which, though I admit to being a pretty chronic slacker, still makes me break out in hives.
Happy Weekend to you all.
Cerise
posted by Cerise at 1:51 PM
3 Comments:
Oh, man. I'd LOVE some free porn! Thank you!
Cerise
That does sound like a perfect Saturday. And I love the bit about saving bread for your hubbie. Those little acts of giving are so important in a relationship -- but it really is hysterical how hard they are for most of us selfish humans. It's entirely worth it to leave the last piece of cake for my honey, but it ain't easy.
Also funny that you mentioned Earth Balance. It's magical stuff. This morning, before reading this, I referenced it in a post before reading this:
http://truthspiral.blogspot.com/2006/03/vegan-propaganda-post.html
Seriously, I'm thinking of starting a religion around Earth Balance. Thanks for the link to that post! I have dreams of becoming vegan...
Cerise
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