Christmas Breakfast

After a rousing round of present opening and mimosas, we enjoyed bacon and sausage and monkey bread. Then I think I pretty much took a nap until dinner.

Farm Eggs and Everything Bagel

And for breakfast on another day, fried eggs on a bagel in the sunlight. Eggs are a wonder.

Bagel c/o Mocha Bagel

On Sunday morning I got up a little before L. or Fat T. and went in search of a bagel. I ended up at Mocha Bagels. Their counter is very high. It's kind of intimidating. In any case, I asked for a toasted everything bagel with olive cream cheese. The man told me that the bagels were fresh out of the oven and then asked if I still wanted mine toasted, I said no, figuring that was the right answer. It was an ok bagel, though I still would have liked that added crisp factor of toasting. The olive cream cheese wasn't quite as potent and salty as I am accustomed. I didn't eat the whole thing because I had this sudden moment of 'if this isn't totally making you love it, why get fat eating it.' If I'm going to get fat, might as well only be through the consumption of things I truly love and desire. Maybe. At least at the specific moment in time.

Peach, Strawberry and Blueberry Cobbler

C. and J. brought almost all of our foodstuffs, and it was quite a haul. On their last day (it happens so fast!) the thought of what to do with so much fruit landed on cobbler, and so C. quickly mixed up and made this wonderful thing. In coming weeks - or days - you'll see that I then tried to do the same thing only with cherries and peaches to less than visually pleasing results (I believe my mistake was substituting vanilla soy for real milk ... and C. will have to tell me if this really doesn't have eggs because her recipe didn't but I feel like maybe in real life it did?). In any case, it was delicious. Just yummers. Yummers? Oh god, who have I become?

Eggs and Bacon and Cantaloupe

The next morning C. did another round of bacon making and then I threw together some scallion/cheesy scrambled eggs.
The breakfast was rounded out with a little fresh fruit.

Fresh Fruit, Eggs and Bacon

I went back to the house and washed up a little and then went to the kitchen. I thought it might be nice to start breakfast for the still slumbering mini-masses (can three people really be a mass?) but soon after I began eyeing a cantaloupe, NC Catherine joined me in breakfast thinking. We decided on a cantaloupe, strawberry, blue berry bowl of fresh fruity goodness and NC Catherine also began frying up bacon.
Once the bacon was fried, we used its grease for eggs. This was my egg.

A Bagel for the Canada Transplant

The next morning K. was interested in having a egg sandwich. It seems that in Toronto such things don't exist. How can this be? How?! I always consider an egg and cheese (sometimes sausage) sandwich a clear mark of humanity's superiority over all other living things (not really), and to think that Canada is behind on such an important benchmark disconcerts me greatly. It was Easter Sunday, which meant that our first stop at Rybread was disappointing, as it was closed. So we went to Garden Fresh Produce and Deli. I'd actually had one of their bagel/egg sandwiches on another morning about four months ago, but I was so hungover on that particular day that I couldn't photograph the sandwich as much as shovel it into my mouth and hope against hope that my brain would stop hurting. All to say, they make a good sandwich.
We walked back to my place and ate on the deck. Because deck days are here again in a major way.

Bacon, Egg and Cheese Bagel

On Saturday the ominous feeling of sickness began to pervade my entire body. But I refused to acknowledge it. So I made a bacon, egg and cheese bagel. Look how nice it looks. I'm sure it was quite tasty too...but I only took a few bites before realizing that it just wasn't going to work for me. My sickness was not of the pukey variety, but something so heavy (no matter how delicious) just wasn't doing it for me. You'll note that I'm just post, post, posting away. Or maybe you won't note that. I'm noting it. I'm trying to catch up as much as possible now so that I won't be completely behind when I get back from JAMAICA. So, expect a slew of posts today and then nothing for a while. And then lots of photographs of me in sunglasses, probably getting pinker and fatter with each passing frame.

Breakfast in Bucks

While J. and K. returned to Philly after our round of dinner and drinks, I returned to Mr. Ass' homestead. The next morning a team effort bore a breakfast of eggs and hash browns. I didn't really do very much in this team, past peeling some potatoes; Mr. Ass and his mother did more of the work.
The dogs have it rough.
I liked all the bird prints on the snow. I began to think of them as bird hieroglyphics.

Breakfast for Dinner

On a Saturday night at some point in January, I was hungry, so I decided to repurpose the potatoes I had made in tandem with a roasted chicken (of which, strangely, there is no evidence) into home fries. Then I plopped a couple of eggs and sausage links on into the pan in order to have breakfast for dinner. It was seriously too much food, but seemed like a good idea at the time.

Birds and Breakfast

It was a late night, full of borrowing big shoes and tromping in the snow and girl talk. And though I didn't go to sleep until 3 or 4 in the morning, I still awoke by 8 or 9 because I had work to do. The parentals of the party were all assembled in the kitchen and quickly plied me with coffee and properly sympathized with me over my whiplashed neck (seriously that fall into the snow bank made it literally impossible for me to raise my head if I was lying down...like I had to take both hands and manually lift my head up and support it). The birds were digging on S.'s holiday and regular feed. This flicker was quite a sight. I won't ever get tired of black, red and white birds.
As mean as bluejays may be, I still like their look. I also like that other bird on top of the snowman. There's something nice about this photograph is all I'm saying.
S. cooked sausage and eggs, which I gratefully tucked into before disappearing for the rest of the morning and a good portion of the afternoon to get work done. It was kind of nice to be surrounded by others doing all sorts of other activities, whether prepping for lunch, reading by the fire or still sleeping (M.) while I was anchored to my computer just hearing the faint murmur of others. If that makes sense. Like, I knew that once I got all my work done there was a group of fun just waiting for me.

Brekkers c/o the T.'s

The morning after the party D. cooked up pancakes (though I think they had a special name that would make them something other than pancakes but not crepes), scrapple and sausage.

Man I love me some sausage in the morning.

Art Eggs

The morning after Thanksgiving D. made birds in a nest. Only he referred to them as Eggs Rothko, after having had them in Williamsburg somewhere arty. I don't think my photograph really makes it apparent, but it did make sense.

Hotel Breakfasts

With our reservation the hotel gave my father a seemingly unending supply of breakfast coupons. During my last stay I utilized them a fair amount, but this time around I just couldn't quite bother. This was, in part, due to the general blah-ness of the food. All buffet-style, except for the occasional omelet making station, it never really changed. This was one of the two breakfasts I got around to eating at the hotel. The food wasn't worth the feeling of having eaten a lot of substandard stuff. Though I won't lie and say I didn't enjoy the sausage links or potatoes in the moment, just that upon further reflection I could have done better.

Brunch in Grove City

In a fashion much like my last Ohio stopover, K. and I went over to her parents' house for brunch on Sunday morning. M. and his kids were once again up from Cincinnati, and so you'll see I took way too many pictures of their kids, though the littlest certainly got the most camera time.

Last time she had no hair and couldn't stand. Now she has hair and teeth and can. It doesn't feel like enough time has gone by for such a transformation. Just goes to show you, little people grow faster than big people. What?

Brunch consisted of fresh fruit and breakfast burritos.

I took a ton of photographs of I. by the sliding door, and liked them all, so I am sharing them all.



I asked L. to take a photograph of K. and myself, and A. wanted in on the action.
This was a series of three, I encouraged everyone to use their surfer hands and this is the best of the bunch...except M. looked better in the other two, as his eyes were open. If I was a better photoshopper I could take him from one of the other shots and superimpose his image to this...but I have no idea how to do that.
After this I got back on the road and drove on down to Nashville.

Fresh Egg and Tomato Breakfast

Why I didn't take more advantage of the eggs in the refrigerator is beyond me. I didn't bother having a proper breakfast most days, as I usually don't, but the morning after my second Greeter Falls adventure felt like it deserved a little morning sustenance. The eggs came from K.'s chickens, the tomato from H.'s garden.

Breakfast, Tattoos and Painted Nails

Sunday morning I made myself a bagel with cream cheese and sliced tomatoes. Oh yeah.
On Saturday evening J.'s sister painted all the kids' names. I had been rocking green nail polish and I think at least one of the two boys requested the color so they could be like me. Does this warm my heart? Yes. Yes it does. Then J.'s mother applied tattoos to the little ones. I think S. ended up with three tattoos on his arm, at least one of which had a pirate motif.
N. went with a bug on one hand, a parrot on the other.

Sunday started with waffles.
Then I finished The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo and started reading The Girl Who Played With Fire. And swam. And floated. And floated and swam.
A two person self-photo fail.
Mama duck and her babies.

Pretty Morning at Cayuga Lake

Early risers at Cayuga Lake are rewarded with plenty of pretty.

And recently baked blueberry buckle.
At one point, A.'s father said something along the lines of 'look at that, there are diamonds in the lake!' And was he right? Oh yes, he was. Sparkle. Sparkle. Sparkle.

First Ever Krispy Kreme

One morning I came into the common eating space of the 'lodge' where my mother was staying to have a cup of tea while she ate her breakfast. A man came out of nowhere (but proabably really somewhere) with a box and invited all of us in the room to help ourselves. This box contained a little less than a full dozen of still-warm Krispy Kreme donuts. I may be mistaken, though I think not, but I managed to live my whole life without trying one of these devilish treats. I now understand, to an extent, what the fuss is about. Crispy. Warm. Airy. Sweet. All good qualities. I can't imagine eating more than one. I once tried to read Rick Moody's The Diviners at one point in my life, and only got about 10 pages in. In those pages a character 's obsession and addiction with the donuts leads her to (if I recall correctly) know the schedule of baking so she can always get them hot out of the oven, and that she typically eats a dozen at a time.
I was feeling a little woozy after one. I can't imagine having two, let alone twelve.