duck-shaped pain

That would be, of course, the kind of person who eats toast. [1]

I have a secret breakfast spot right now, that I go to once or twice a month. It's pretty far from my house, about as far as I can drive and still be within the same "metropolitan" area. It's a good thing that they serve breakfast all day, or at most of the day, so I can wake up late and screw around in the morning, drinking coffee and reading, and still manage to get over there to eat.

The d�cor is simple, but bright. Some local art (of varying quality), wooden booths, but the two big windows in the front fill the place with light. Food is typical breakfast food. I usually get just two eggs, scrambled, with potatoes, oranges and the aforementioned toast. But�what potatoes. Crispy and brown, cooked with onions, garlic and yellow or red peppers. Someone has paid a lot of attention to these potatoes, and they are far above any other home fry to be found in the county. They're worth the drive.

When I'm in there, I'm usually the only one in there by myself, which never bothers me, but is interesting to see. I'm also always the only one there writing or reading a book at my table, which in other places might invoke an odd look or two, but not here. Today I read part of Mark Doty's Still Life With Oysters and Lemon to go with my potatoes.

Of course, I feel like I have to justify my drive out there by stopping at various vegetable stands, so today I picked up squash and just-picked garlic and cherries and homemade sun-dried tomatoes as evidence of my drive. The fresh garlic is overwhelmingly garlicky, in the best possible way: sweet and inviting instead of bitter and manky. I can't wait to use it.

I have been out of town more than I have been in town so far this month (which partially explains the long absence). My plan has been to travel as much as possible this summer, and it looks as if I'll be able to do quite a bit of it, if I arrange things right.

I went to San Francisco for a week, which was wonderful. The best part was that I didn't talk to anyone, outside of ordering food and like requests, for about three or four days. So I had abundant time to just sort of get lost in my own thoughts for a while: the best part about traveling alone. I stayed in this hotel instead of in a hostel, which was worth the extra money. Hostels are great in many ways, but often I just want to go back to my room and relax without having to make fake conversation with people and being able to sleep without clothes, like at home, would be nice, too. To say I relished the hotel experience would be an understatement. I spent my time in SF walking around, going to museums, eating Indian food four nights in a row (I ate other things, too, don't worry: it wasn't all-saag-paneer-all-the-time for me), and generally enjoying being in a city. It was one of the more relaxing trips I've ever taken. Since I've been there a bunch of times, I don't really feel any pressure to See The Sights, and I know how to get to the things I do want to see, and if I don't see something, or if I spend a morning holed up in my room drinking coffee and reading books, that's okay, too. Basically, I spent this trip doing exactly what I wanted to do.

Which seemed to cause minor problems when I returned, in the sense that I had to explain to people what it is that I did on my trip when they asked. When I told people about the walking around and the eating and the napping, it seemed to them that I didn't have a good time, when in fact I had lots of fun. "But you didn't do anything," was the common reply.

I was back home only two days before heading to Denver for four days. This trip was sort of work-related, although I did very little work once I got there. It was more of a reward for doing a lot of work on a big project which was being presented to some all-powerful oil company that weekend. Being that it was Denver, as usual devoid of interesting sites and cultural events, I went shopping and ate out a lot, mainly, and hung out with people that I've known a long time. This time, too, I ate a lot of Indian food: gotta get my supply in before returning back home, where there is no Indian food. I also got a lot of napping and swimming in, since my hotel had a really nice pool in it.

Now I'm at home again, sort of bored, even though I have a lot of work to do to prepare for the GRE, which I am hopefully taking next month, and have much homework to do for the Spanish class I am taking as an independent study this summer. Never learn languages this way, I implore you.

[1] Toast is nasty most of the time: a cold, burnt afterthought hovering too close to the edge of your pancakes. The toast at Secret Breakfast Restaurant is better, although overbuttered, because they use decent dread, hence I find myself eating it where I would normally do my best to ignore the toast.

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