The first of September

Dining room table awaits croissants from the oven. I’m the maître d’.

IT’S A MORNING like most mornings, and here’s how it goes.

I get up first and check the news online upstairs. My child bride stays in bed and knits. She doesn’t do this every morning, but mornings over the past couple of months, yes.

Around 8ish, I return downstairs to light the oven where croissants already lie in wait. Then I walk to the bedroom to open the curtains, which were half open all night. I look out the window. Of course, what I see is color, but here it’s just black & white.


It’s cool, overcast and gray this morning, so black & white seems right. In the other direction, my child bride continues under the covers with her knitting. Or maybe it’s crocheting. I dunno. It all looks the same to me.

Lazybones still in the sack, not noticing I’m taking her picture. Just as well.

I leave the bedroom and head back toward the  kitchen, passing through the living room where I pause to gaze outside. Looking good.

The living room window.

At last, she puts the handiwork aside, lifts herself out of sack, walks to the kitchen where the timer just sounded that the croissants are nice and hot.

September’s off to a good start. Plus, it’s Sunday, a day of rest.

* * * *

Note: A couple of hours later, the sun was out, and the sky was blue. Still cool, however.

16 thoughts on “The first of September

  1. For me, morning is about the best part of the day, thanks to three modern conveniences. I make coffee every three days, so first I heat coffee in the microwave. It tastes as good as the day it was made. I heat about 11 oz. for 90 seconds. While it is heating I set the convection oven for 275 degrees for 8 minutes, and insert an apple turnover. Then I add flavored creamer into an 11-oz. vacuum bottle with a push button snap top. I love that thermos. It keeps the coffee hot for over three hours. And if I accidentally knock it over, it doesn’t spill. While I am reading the headlines and checking my email on my laptop, and enjoying the first sips of hot coffee, the turnover is warming in the convection oven. But there is no rush or worry; When the time is up, the oven will shut off and keep the pastry (sometimes I have an apple fritter) nice and warm and crunchy. At my convenience, I get the warm pastry and enjoy it leisurely with my still hot coffee. The day couldn’t start any better.

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  2. Early Sunday mornings are the best mornings in Guadalajara. But not for hanging around the house. Up early for coffee then out the door we go. Vehicular traffic is at a minimum, making for a pleasant drive. Restaurants don’t get crowded until late morning, so a relaxing breakfast out is a treat. If not at a restaurant, we head for the Tianguis del Sol for excellent tacos de barbacoa and stock up on fresh fruits and veggies. And then maybe over to browse the antiques tianguis on Av. México. The afternoon is usually reserved for a family gathering that rotates each week between sibling’s homes. I am blessed to have married into a family of great cooks, so the fare is always excellent. Sunday is the day to avoid the shopping mall and movie theater and (even if I liked it) Chapala. Absolutely not Chapala.


  3. “…her knitting. Or maybe it’s crocheting. I dunno. It all looks the same to me.” Is it one stick (crocheting) or 2 sticks (knitting)? That’s the easiest way to tell for the uninitiated.

    This Sunday morning finds me procrastinating. I need to go clean the front flower bed; the neighbor’s cat has used it as a litter box.


    1. Judy: Two sticks, so it’s knitting. Last time I visited this subject here, I was told it was crocheting, but maybe she was using just one stick that day. It’s hard for me to keep up. I’m less sharp than I once was. I hope you got the cat poop out of the flower bed. Or maybe you just procrastinated more.


      1. If my memory is correct, I believe, your missus indulges in both. Yes, I got the flower bed cleaned up and sprayed with a deterrent. The task wasn’t as long and unpleasant as my imagination had made it. And as my luck runs, it rained. One would have thought I had washed my car!


  4. Sundays are Morgen’s day around these parts. At least that’s what she tells me, since it was a February Sunday that would become her Gotcha Day, and who’s to argue with the best Doberman in the world? After she greets the fellow who comes every day at 6:20 a.m. to open up the house (OK, so it’s my gardener who comes over to use the bathroom, make his coffee, feed her, and let her out.), she returns to my bed, where Sundays means that we get to linger until 10-ish. Then we made coffee and bacon, and she shared some bacon with me. I didn’t share my coffee with her since everyone knows that dogs don’t drink coffee.


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