Posted tagged ‘butternut donut’

Gracie Update

June 18, 2017

It was another of those sorts of nights. Gracie was restless and wanted out every hour or so. I did her bidding. I slept little. She started vomiting which is what happened a week or so ago. I decided around 3:45 to take her to the 24-hour veterinary service. She was the only one there and got immediate attention. They decided to rehydrate her with the under the skin hydration and also gave her an anti-nausea medication. That’s what worked the last time, and it worked again. When we got home, around 5:30, we both went to sleep. Gracie was up around 9 and wanted out. I, of course, obeyed. She came back inside and slept. She is still asleep.

I learned that at 3:45 on a before summer Sunday morning there isn’t any traffic. I also learned that the drive-up Dunkin Donuts opens at 5 which was just in time for me. Butternut donuts are freshest at 5:10. The sky is light at that time of the morning. I hadn’t thought about that. It was the light at the end of the day which has mostly taken my attention.

I learned a lot this early morning.

“Sadness is almost never anything but a form of fatigue.”

April 30, 2016

My house was chilly this morning. Even Fern’s fur felt cold. I finally remembered my thermostat has its own mind on the weekends so I checked and found the house was 64˚. I turned the thermostat to manual and cranked up that heat to a respectable 68˚. It is blowing now, and I can already feel the difference.

The color of the sky is so lovely it almost doesn’t look real. It is as if a painter mixed his blues until he found the perfect one. The sun is bright but hasn’t yet the strength to warm the air. It is sweatshirt weather so I suppose I shouldn’t complain as winter coat weather wasn’t that long ago.

My current funk continues. I figure a really warm day, a ride in the car with the windows down and a Dunkin’ Donut butternut donut would go a long way in brightening my weekend.

I can’t remember the last time I jumped from grumpy into a funk. Usually grumpy goes away quickly because I take a ride and sometimes find something entertaining or funny or I shop and happen upon exactly what I wanted or what I needed or, even better, a surprise I never expected. I think shopping at little stores will be what I’ll do today. I’d love a surprise.

If the weather changed enough and got much warmer, I could while away the hours on the deck and that would totally upend my mood. I always think of Cinderella and the blue birds. I loved the one in the kerchief.

That blue bird reminded me nobody wears kerchiefs any more. My mother would sometimes wear one to hide the bobby pins she used to curl her hair, but even bobby pins are gone. If I needed one, my mother would rummage through her purse and almost always found one at the bottom. She also used to find pennies and tobacco. I remember each curl was held by a bobby pin. It must have taken hours to do that.

I am the only one awake. I think I’ll have another cup of coffee and maybe some toast.

“One should not attend even the end of the world without a good breakfast.”

March 18, 2014

The world looks different in the early part of the day. The cars are fewer and the lines shorter. People are purposeful with destinations in mind, and this morning Gracie and I were among them. I had an appointment, a destination, so we were out and about before nine, even before coffee and the papers. The appointment didn’t take long so when I was done and on my way home I rewarded myself for the early hour with a stop at Dunkin’ Donuts for coffee and a butternut donut. Gracie got a munchkin. I don’t know which of us was happier. I got home, drank my coffee and read the papers. My day was back on schedule.

I don’t usually make breakfast for myself at home except for brewing coffee though sometimes I have toast if the bread is interesting enough. The other day I had a couple of biscotti. They were chocolate, and they were delicious.

My father never cared for breakfast in Europe except in England and Ireland where he got eggs, a broiled tomato and floppy bacon. In most of the other countries breakfast was cold cuts and rolls, lunches my dad called them. In a lovely hotel on a river in the Netherlands, an egg in an egg cup was sitting on a dish at his place at the table. He was delighted until he found out it was hard-boiled. 

My father would have liked the hotels in Ghana. Breakfast is part of the room rate, and they serve eggs and toast, sometimes fruit and always instant coffee which my father preferred. I never understand that. At my parents’ house, my mother had a coffee pot and real coffee for when I visited, but my dad always had his Maxwell House.