Mornings

When people ask me if I am a morning person, I agree with them. What they don't realize is that MY definition of "morning" is probably different than theirs. I LOVE mornings: to sleep through, and stay semi-conscious in bed while the light in my window gets brighter and brighter. I absolutely love touch: textures, feelings, everything. And, I have to admit that morning brings on an entirely new texture to everything: almost like a satin gloss that covers pillows, blankets, clothes... just not my dog. She stinks, and will always continue to do so. No amount of morning-gloss will change that. :)

Well, this morning, after actually getting up and out of bed, I wandered down the stairs, towards the kitchen. Alluring memories of "there's pie for breakfast tomorrow" numbed my senses. Now, I have a question, what kind of day did I foreshadow, when the first words I voiced aloud this morning were, "Pie? Pigs!" :) Well, no pie--turns out it was one pig in particular, not thinking it worthwhile to cut the rest into 4 slices... 2 would be just fine, and then the other two culprits (that I do not blame, really) split THAT last piece into two. A sorry excuse for pie... pie should be big! :D Well, enough rambling this "early" in the morning. Genau!?