I’m having one of those days where I’m afraid my head has been swapped with a less intelligent body part. I’m not quite bumping into things, but it sure was hard to leave the flannel sheets this morning. I’ve been creaking around like an Ent since then and I haven’t been useful at all. Did I mention I’m not a morning person? I made it to work late (for me, that is. My company doesn’t really care when you show up as long as you log your time.), since my hair wouldn’t cooperate and I had to hit level 300 in Fishdom before I left. Once I got here, I wandered to the break room to fill up my giant yellow cup and ran into my lead engineer. He was in a good mood. Maybe it was because he hadn’t had coffee yet, and therefore was too fuzzy to find anything to gripe about. Anyway, we started talking about how nice it would be to be rich and have a housekeeper to serve breakfast every morning. That started my mouth watering thinking about my ideal breakfast. It’s not too fancy-I’ve never gone for steak and eggs (Scratch that, I’ve never HAD steak and eggs)- but it would be labor consuming and regrettably, I’ve never eaten any of these things at the same time. Let’s see: Chai or coffee, cantaloupe, Cream of Wheat with maple syrup to stir in, and a big pile of scrambled eggs and bacon. I can see it now, laid out on fine china (Nana’s Lenox, naturally) on a sunny deck. Nobody pinch me. I really should do this once the weather is reliably in the 70-80 range this spring. I have the china and the wooden deck; just need the lazy Saturday to put the rest of it together. The problem is, I want to eat like this EVERY morning. And once I’d had breakfast, I’d start dreaming about lunch. A BLT (extra bacon) on a French baguette with mint sun tea and cheddar Sun Chips. Now we’re drooling! Late afternoon snack of gourmet Swiss cheese on wheat crackers with sugared frozen grapes. Dinner would be at 7 and would be…let’s see…rosemary or sage pork roast with mixed vegetables sautéed in a light balsamic vinaigrette and small helping of mushroom alfredo.
Having described the food, now I’ll describe the ideal day. Since this is a dream, let’s say I wake up at 8. I do some stretches, take a long shower, then make myself that breakfast and eat it slowly. After I wash Nana’s Lenox and stop feeling guilty about using it on a random Tuesday, I ride my vintage Schwinn (yellow, with a basket and bell) over to the grocery store and buy everything on the day’s menu. I prepare the pork and put it in the oven and freeze the grapes for later. Then I put on breezily quaint gardening clothes-probably a sleeveless smock or babydoll and capris, and a wide straw hat with long ribbons- and head out to terrorize the dandelions. No shoes, of course. I don’t dream about fire ants. I don’t get sunburned in my dreams either. My yard is a fantasy of Japanese cherry, ornamental pear and dogwood trees, hydrangea and azalea. There is an herb garden and a koi pond. A red Chinese moon door separates the kitchen garden from a Chinese garden that’s all cool bamboo and black and white pebbles. My BLT lunch gets eaten outside under a big tree. Back inside after lunch, I putter in my sunny workroom overlooking the garden. I sew or write while the light is good (And nap. There’s no accident there’s a couch in there.) Once the afternoon fades, I wander back outside to the big tree and swing a little while as the fireflies come out. The pork is nearly done and I can smell it from yards away through the open windows. Evenings are a little sharp even though the days are warm, so I kindle a fire with the twigs I picked up from the yard. Dinner time, then curling up on the couch to watch TV or read. Dessert is a cup of hot chocolate and a plate of shortbread cookies. Bed around midnight.
Of course, to make this romantic scenario remotely possible, I’d have to be wealthy and probably retired. But long, slow days filled with good food, moderate exercise, and plenty of creativity really appeal to me.