Weekend Break(fast)

Aaaaaaahhh... Big *sigh* of relief. 

We have made it to the weekend and both members of the (very nice, very hardworking) demolition crew have gone home for a well-deserved rest. They worked like crazy all week and all we did was supply mid-morning coffee. Now, we have the peaceful, if dusty, house to ourselves and we can play around with making breakfast in our makeshift kitchen.

We peeled off the dust-covered drop cloths and began.

Nothing special, really, just bacon and eggs, but we are trying out our new toaster (the packers packed the other one because I didn't hide it in time), and setting up our coffeemaker for the first time in the living room. Nothing is where it ought to be, so it's all a bit of a puzzle, but we are enjoying the process of organizing as we go.

We had looked forward all week to a morning when we didn't have to be up, showered and dressed by 0730 but, of course, Murphy's Law dictated that we couldn't sleep later than 0600, so we got up anyway and began breakfast just as the dawn was breaking. Even had to turn on the light that My Beloved rigged for just such a morning.

As I was cracking eggs and flipping bacon on a table/counter that is too short for me, I mused that this must have been how Julia Child felt all the time, she being so tall and counters (especially in France) being so short. Belated appreciation for my own kitchen counters, ugly as they were, and renewed appreciation for Ms. Child, who must have done that amazing cookery in uncomfortable surroundings.

The yolks of the eggs were as bright an orange as the bowl I was cracking them into. The bacon sizzled quietly alongside. The toaster popped companionably and the coffee trickled musically into the pot. Leftover pineapple from the lunch Jan brought us last Thursday was served still in its plastic store container. 

The sun rose behind a bank of clouds that parted just over the city, bathing the buildings in pink light and leaving the Marin hills in shadow as we sat down to breakfast. 

The only sounds were those of newspaper pages being turned, coffee gurgling into the pot, cutlery clinking on a plate, and the crunch of toast. There was half a piece of bacon left for Cora, who snoozed peacefully through our breakfast, as content as we were with the morning break.