With nary a PAUSE, the little girl continued to SULLY the white tablecloth with crayons, blissfully unaware of the SURLY waiter headed her way.

Georg’ann

On occasion I like to have cinnamon TOAST and hot cocoa for dinner. Seeking something that feels like transgressive comfort. A desire to nurture Princess Peach Velvet Star, the flaxen haired girl within. The adult part of me more typically prefers salad, bread, cheese, and wine.

Pushing down the lever, noting the SHINE of stainless as I watch the coils turn red. This ingenious little machine takes up prime real estate on the counter next to the blue earthenware fruit bowl. Someone once said my house was curated. Which I suppose is true, though that implies a contrivance that isn’t.

While waiting for the milk to warm and the bread to brown I think through my day, eyes wander the room, pause to note, with no concern, that the floor could use a SCRUB.

Finally the “pop” that always surprises even though it’s anticipated. I generously slather on the butter and feel my SURLY mood melt as effortlessly. Every crevice gets a good distribution of cinnamon sugar, and not a drop of cocoa spilled while I poured it into my favorite mug. The perfect meal to offset a crappy day is ready. Breakfast for dinner is like giving the day a new start.

Heather