Sunday Morning Going Up

(with apologies to Johnny Cash)

I woke up laughing this morning. It was still dark, that hushed pre-dawn quiet when it feels like the world is holding its breath, and nothing is moving outside my snug warm bed. I was tightly wrapped in K's arms, my back against his chest with his beard against my cheek. He was already awake so he laughed too when I burst into laughter and woke myself up from a ridiculous dream I was having.

We had warm slow morning sex and then, sufficiently perked up, bundled up against the chill and went out just as the sun was beginning to lighten. After a stroll down Hawthorne we read the paper over milky hot coffee at a cheerful little cafe, then stopped by the Waffle Window for a $4 pumpkin pie waffle. This dense, crispy confection was sprinkled hot with just enough sugar to enhance the crunch, topped with a thick slab of cold fresh pumpkin pie filling, scooped with real whipped cream and drizzled with caramel. Much more dessert than breakfast, but what the hell. It's a special Sunday.

By the time we got home, the sun was shining so we took a stroll to the produce stand for a quick restocking, and picked aromatic wild rosemary along the way home. Now it's noon and I'll be writing by the window on this chilly, bright autumn afternoon... after we dip our grilled cheese sandwiches (Tillamook sharp cheddar on whole grain flaxseed bread) into leftover tearjerker-spicy lentil rice soup.

Happy Sunday. It's beautiful to be in Portland.