Monday White …
February 23, 2009 § 6 Comments
HM was up first this morning. We rise like farmers, one or the other of us. The dogs, age 15 and 13, are up at 5:45, without fail. They go from senior canine snoring to full alertness with an intense need to get outdoors fast to take an immediate pee, sometimes taking the stairs so quickly, their feet stutter over one or two of the steps near the bottom before they clatter into the kitchen and stand at the glass door, waiting for it to magically open. It doesn’t.
One of us has to get downstairs just ahead of them and slide the door open. The morning air, regardless of season, puts pep in their step and when they’re ready to come back in and stand barking at the door, you can hear their stomachs growling. It’s feeding time. Immediately.
The big dog herds whoever is the morning chef into the laundry room where stands the sack of (oh so delicious) dog food. Really, though, if it’s HM who’s up first, they get toast and cheese and a bit of warm milk or warm something, I dunno.
Yet when I’m first, you can hear them mutter under their breaths, something like ‘the wife is giving us breakfast so stand by for cold dry dog food slung into our dishes. Well, it’s better than nothing.’
I see the resignation in the slump of their tails. And on such occasions, when I’m sure I’ve heard their derisive comments, I go to the extreme. I cook eggs AND toast, maybe break up a few biscuits into the dish as well, and maybe a few pieces of chicken from the night before. In short, I cook for them, too.
They don’t remember. They remember only the sweet routine that HM offers them. And so, this morning, he was up and singing. He’s been listening to old time radio at night and in the morining, he is singing. This morning, I lay there grabbing the xtra 27 minutes you get when you’re NOT the first one up, thus avoiding for the first time in days, the dog letting out, letting in and breakfast making as well as making the coffee, setting up the coffee cups with cream and sugar, and the pawing about in the fridge for something for each of us to take to work for lunch.
I sauntered down the requisite 20 minutes or so into his mission. HM was wiping crumbs from the counter as I slid onto the stool across from him.
“Coffee?” he asked.
“Yes, thanks. Lovely,” I said as he set a mug in front of me.
I was so happy to be served, glad we weren’t running around like maniacs getting ready for the day, not yet.
I picked up the cup, glanced at it before I sipped because it wasn’t my usual mug.
And I laughed.
“What?” he said, pausing in his countertop ministrations.
“I don’t know, this strikes me funny, that’s all,” I said, turning the cup so he could see what it said.
(But I think running for my camera and snapping a photo of this struck him funnier than my reaction to the writing on the cup.)
Book Selection …
COFFEE, TEA OR ME? by Baker, Jones and Bain, 1967 – “The Uninhibited memoirs of two airline stewardesses.” I remember reading it long before I should have, probably as a mid-teen en route to summer with family, and I remember kind of wondering ‘what the ____???’
One reviewer calls it ” glam and strict” in retrospect. Uninhibited in 1967 , the book may be nothing short of hohum in today’s immodest world. If you haven’t read it, I can’t say that you should. If you have read it, I defy you to recount the plot (without looking at the TOC that Amazon lets you view. ) The title, however, became one of those ha-ha mainstream cliches that people like our parental units, would say jokingly at gatherings (once again, winning a reprimanding sniff from our Gran if she overheard their jokiness.)
Hey, I just needed a book that I’ve read that has coffee in the title to go with this entry.