What with waking up late yesterday and then having a leisurely deeeluxe breakfast of bagels, cream cheese, a leftover cheese plate, cranberry bread, honeys, and jams, over the kitchen counter with sleepover friends, it sure felt like Sunday.
(The bagels-and-cream-cheese story is, Never did a girl want a bagel so bad and not know it. Maud came over Friday with a thing of cream cheese and a bag of bagels, and we stood by the toaster to eat them hot and perfect, jumping them about in our hands. At one point Maud said, “I think I’m going to have another one, that was so good.” “Here,” I said, “take my half, I’m not going to—no, wait, don’t. I want it.” Because, oh, it’d been months since I’d had a bagel, and sometimes a bagel is just what you don’t know you want, thick and crunchy and soft and smeared with cream cheese and pear jam in one bite, and then cream cheese and strawberry jam in the next.)
We talked about going outside, we talked about holing up in the TV cave, then we cleaned the sink with leftover Coke from the last last last party.
Tom and I took a walk in the autumn gorgeousness after. At the bookshop, he bought me a New Yorker magazine so I could read the David Sedaris story. When we stopped to get some coffee at an Italian grocery, I came out with a big I-heart-NY plastic bag containing a tin of coffee, a bottle of chocolate milk, three things of yoghurt, a box of pumpkin agnolotti, a box of porcini agnolotti, and a bar of Italian hazelnut chocolate. At the video store, looking for a video for Maud, we stood in front of the shelves for ages. “We gotta do good,” Tom said. “We gotta do good.” The “Chungking Express” box said “In Chinese with yellow English subtitles,” which I thought was funny. After maybe half an hour of wandering aimlessly up and down the aisles, we emerged with “Coming to America” and “Step Into Liquid,” maybe the most unexpected selection ever. When we got back home, Maud was alternating between “Moonstruck” and “Point Break” on cable.
And then this morning when I woke up all groggy-like into the grey and the rain and the wind howling down the corridor outside, the realization that I still had a whole ’nother Sunday in front of me made me smile insta-brite into the bathroom mirror.
(The bagels-and-cream-cheese story is, Never did a girl want a bagel so bad and not know it. Maud came over Friday with a thing of cream cheese and a bag of bagels, and we stood by the toaster to eat them hot and perfect, jumping them about in our hands. At one point Maud said, “I think I’m going to have another one, that was so good.” “Here,” I said, “take my half, I’m not going to—no, wait, don’t. I want it.” Because, oh, it’d been months since I’d had a bagel, and sometimes a bagel is just what you don’t know you want, thick and crunchy and soft and smeared with cream cheese and pear jam in one bite, and then cream cheese and strawberry jam in the next.)
We talked about going outside, we talked about holing up in the TV cave, then we cleaned the sink with leftover Coke from the last last last party.
Tom and I took a walk in the autumn gorgeousness after. At the bookshop, he bought me a New Yorker magazine so I could read the David Sedaris story. When we stopped to get some coffee at an Italian grocery, I came out with a big I-heart-NY plastic bag containing a tin of coffee, a bottle of chocolate milk, three things of yoghurt, a box of pumpkin agnolotti, a box of porcini agnolotti, and a bar of Italian hazelnut chocolate. At the video store, looking for a video for Maud, we stood in front of the shelves for ages. “We gotta do good,” Tom said. “We gotta do good.” The “Chungking Express” box said “In Chinese with yellow English subtitles,” which I thought was funny. After maybe half an hour of wandering aimlessly up and down the aisles, we emerged with “Coming to America” and “Step Into Liquid,” maybe the most unexpected selection ever. When we got back home, Maud was alternating between “Moonstruck” and “Point Break” on cable.
And then this morning when I woke up all groggy-like into the grey and the rain and the wind howling down the corridor outside, the realization that I still had a whole ’nother Sunday in front of me made me smile insta-brite into the bathroom mirror.
posted by stellou at 2:28 PM
1 Comments:
I like a half Tom's head
I like a half Mojo's head
I like a couple Tom's feets
I was unsuccessful in anonymous comment, but I'm back on it !
what happened to your links ?
who am I ?
no doubt you'll find :-p
Post a Comment
<< Home