It's 5 am and I should be enjoying my last half hour of sleep but my body has other plans and I wake up sneezing. I think of getting up and going into the kitchen to bake some biscuits but I'm too lazy. The bed is warm and comfy, and it's still dark out.
I turn on my bedside lamp and reach over, feeling around on the bedspread. Scattered on the side of my bed where my husband used to sleep are my new companions, my faithful books. They keep me company, entertain me, instruct me and inspire me.
Let me introduce you to my friends. Today's pile includes a vintage cookbook that I scored for 99 cents at the Goodwill, bearing the lofty title Favorite Recipes of America - Vegetables. The garish colors of some of the dishes are almost repulsive, for some reason I think this is cool. I'm planning a vegetarian meal from this book where the bell peppers are the color of radiator fluid and the carrots remind me of a highlighter marker. I only hope my meal looks as vivid.
The cover of the little comic book next to it is just as loud. It's the Mahabharata, the great Sanskrit epic, Indian literature bastardized for my amusement. On the cover, Arjuna the skillful archer kneels before a hot looking Lord Krishna. The blue in Krishna's skin set against the gold in his outfit really pops. My husband and daughter bought the comic book for me when they saw me looking at it in the store. As much as I love comics, I can't recommend that you read the Mahabharata this way, mostly it reminds me that my family loves me.
I have three other gifts on my bed. Eat, Pray, Love, which my friend Angie gave me; Bend the Rules With Fabric, a present from Santy Claus and a copy of Everyday Food (thanks for my subscription, DW). I pick up Eat, Pray, Love and read a few pages. It's a memoir and the writer is at a soccer game in Italy. She decides to translate the cursing and ranting of an old man who's sitting behind her. It sounds dull but it's pretty funny. The expression "What a Casino!" (what a mess) cracks me up. Why is translated cursing funny and not shocking or insulting? The laughing wakes me up. I decide to stop procrastinating and get out of bed.
I walk into the kitchen ready to start breakfast when it occurs to me that I've stopped sneezing. I walk back into my bedroom and look at the bookshelves. A layer of dust is plainly visible. Guess I know what I'll be doing today. It just proves that every friendship needs a little work sometimes.
Now, what's for breakfast?