My life is filled with routines; Grape Nuts nearly every day, alongside several cuppas. A bagel, with cream cheese, for lunch. Writing occurs in an orderly fashion, one chapter a day when I’m noveling, always in the morning when my brain is most engaged. My son has Asperger’s, and sometimes I wonder if I gave it to him, or he lent it to me. Autism touched our lives who knows how, but on some planes I am pretty OCD, or just plain anal. It leads to a comforting schedule that can be broken, to provide relief. And when I return to my happy zone, I’m even more pleased.
One of the best habits is shared with my spouse; Sunday mornings we travel to Los Gatos for breakfast. Usually (again my routine flares) I have a Belgian waffle with fruit; summertime sees fresh strawberries, autumn and winter I prefer bananas. Today French cakes were on special, with vanilla pudding filling, topped with homemade granola and strawbs. I chose a full order, aware that one third would go home to my daughter. (She inherits half the waffle every week.) My husband ordered his usual eggs over medium, bacon, spuds with extra grilled onions, wheat toast. It’s taken him five years to stop asking for brown bread, an English trait. We chatted with a lovely gentleman who arrives as early as we do; it starts off the week, or ends it, with perfect harmony.
I’ll spend the rest of this morning writing the fourth chapter in the WIP, while doing laundry. Perhaps some baseball this afternoon (SF Giants and Colorado Rockies), then maybe some American football this evening. It’s just preseason, but I’m a dedicated fan, and it’s the lark of the first game of 2012. Soon Sundays won’t only mean The Los Gatos Cafe (downtown), but a day filled with gridiron action. Being early August, footie dreams are still a few weeks away.
Then for the next few months my Sundays will teem with excitement. For now, that breakfast stands as a slice of heaven. Life is very very good…