I actually slept in till 10 a.m. today. Ten!! This is a BIG deal. I haven't been able to do that in weeks. It must be the extra hydration (wine).
So, what to eat for breakfast? My brain tells me to throw some eggs in the microwave and call it good. Yes. The microwave - because I don't have a stove. It's difficult to have such a thing when you don't have a kitchen. You didn't think I just eat out all the time for the sake of blogging did you? While it does give me plenty to write about, this blog might have been a cooking blog if it weren't for the fact that I, the ROAMologist, have no kitchen and so I must forage the city for food to eat. I do enjoy it - almost as much as I love to cook. But, I'm getting off track now aren't I? Where were we? Ah, yes.
... my brain tells me microwaved eggs, but my HEART whispers cinnamon roll. Although I had fully intended to stay put in my bed all day, the thought of a yummy cinnamon roll stirs me enough to at least throw on some clothing over my nightgown and drive a couple blocks down the street to Tout de Sweet. It's only a six minute drive. I should be back in bed in no time!
I arrive. From the outside, it really doesn't look like much. Upon entering, I see it is very charming! It's the kind of place that makes you feel special simply by association. The colorful macarons, decadent looking mouses, tiny little cakes topped with berries all sit in the display case and make me feel truly rich - and it has nothing to do with money. I enjoy fine things. Who doesn't? These tiny confections look very fine indeed. Fit for a Queen and here I am - in my nightgown. Suddenly I'm feeling a little self conscious as I wonder if anyone can tell I've just rolled out of bed, quite literally still in my pj's.
I feel a tugging on my exposed night gown (damn it).
To my left I see a little girl with brown pigtails staring up at me. It's me, when I was around 6 or so.
"I can see your nightgown," she says - I say.
"You mean our nightgown and don't be silly - that's not a nightgown. It's my shirt."
"No it's not," my younger self says to my present day self.
"My Mom never lets me wear pajamas out."
"You mean our Mom. It's not pajamas."
"Yes. It is."
"No it's not."
"Then why do you still have your coat on? Take it off then if it's a shirt."
Smart little terd she (I) is (am).
"No. I don't want to. Now run along and watch out for a guy named Bob in about 10 years OK?"
Proudly, because no one cares if I'm wearing a nightgown to breakfast, I step up to the counter and since there aren't any cinnamon rolls I order a raisin scone with grape jam and butter as well as a cappuccino. The lady at the counter is French.
What is it with all the French people in Bethesda? It seems there is a huge French population here. I'll need to start brushing up on mon francais so they can all laugh at my c'est terrible pronunciation!
As I stand there waiting for my order inside this lovely establishment I pay no attention to the fact that everyone is properly dressed and I seem to be the only who has literally rolled out of bed to be here. I haven't bothered to shower and sleep is still in my eye. OK. So, maybe I am paying attention.
I take my scone and coffee to go so as to get back in bed as quickly as possible leaving behind me all sense of caring and now I truly do feel queenly - because "a queen can do whatever she damn well pleases" (a quote from Her Majesty, Mrs. Brown) and that includes wearing her nightgown to a pastry shop.
THE END
P.S. The scone and the coffee were AMAZING! I'll definitely be back for more sans nightgown.
So, what to eat for breakfast? My brain tells me to throw some eggs in the microwave and call it good. Yes. The microwave - because I don't have a stove. It's difficult to have such a thing when you don't have a kitchen. You didn't think I just eat out all the time for the sake of blogging did you? While it does give me plenty to write about, this blog might have been a cooking blog if it weren't for the fact that I, the ROAMologist, have no kitchen and so I must forage the city for food to eat. I do enjoy it - almost as much as I love to cook. But, I'm getting off track now aren't I? Where were we? Ah, yes.
... my brain tells me microwaved eggs, but my HEART whispers cinnamon roll. Although I had fully intended to stay put in my bed all day, the thought of a yummy cinnamon roll stirs me enough to at least throw on some clothing over my nightgown and drive a couple blocks down the street to Tout de Sweet. It's only a six minute drive. I should be back in bed in no time!
I arrive. From the outside, it really doesn't look like much. Upon entering, I see it is very charming! It's the kind of place that makes you feel special simply by association. The colorful macarons, decadent looking mouses, tiny little cakes topped with berries all sit in the display case and make me feel truly rich - and it has nothing to do with money. I enjoy fine things. Who doesn't? These tiny confections look very fine indeed. Fit for a Queen and here I am - in my nightgown. Suddenly I'm feeling a little self conscious as I wonder if anyone can tell I've just rolled out of bed, quite literally still in my pj's.
I feel a tugging on my exposed night gown (damn it).
To my left I see a little girl with brown pigtails staring up at me. It's me, when I was around 6 or so.
"I can see your nightgown," she says - I say.
"You mean our nightgown and don't be silly - that's not a nightgown. It's my shirt."
"No it's not," my younger self says to my present day self.
"My Mom never lets me wear pajamas out."
"You mean our Mom. It's not pajamas."
"Yes. It is."
"No it's not."
"Then why do you still have your coat on? Take it off then if it's a shirt."
Smart little terd she (I) is (am).
"No. I don't want to. Now run along and watch out for a guy named Bob in about 10 years OK?"
Proudly, because no one cares if I'm wearing a nightgown to breakfast, I step up to the counter and since there aren't any cinnamon rolls I order a raisin scone with grape jam and butter as well as a cappuccino. The lady at the counter is French.
What is it with all the French people in Bethesda? It seems there is a huge French population here. I'll need to start brushing up on mon francais so they can all laugh at my c'est terrible pronunciation!
As I stand there waiting for my order inside this lovely establishment I pay no attention to the fact that everyone is properly dressed and I seem to be the only who has literally rolled out of bed to be here. I haven't bothered to shower and sleep is still in my eye. OK. So, maybe I am paying attention.
I take my scone and coffee to go so as to get back in bed as quickly as possible leaving behind me all sense of caring and now I truly do feel queenly - because "a queen can do whatever she damn well pleases" (a quote from Her Majesty, Mrs. Brown) and that includes wearing her nightgown to a pastry shop.
THE END
P.S. The scone and the coffee were AMAZING! I'll definitely be back for more sans nightgown.
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