I’m going on vacation today. After I walk the dog (that would be a part of responsibility I had better not redefine; it’s in my best interest.), I am going to put together my bag of tricks and head out. First stop, breakfast.
Alameda is breakfast place deficient. I may have written about this before. The kids and I, in discussing the problem, have determined some criteria for good breakfast places. Item one: huevos rancheros on the menu. Item two: even if we don’t want to eat pastries, the kind of place that bakes their own is the kind of place we want to eat. Item three: tattooed waitstaff. I’m not sure how this impacts the food, but there is a high correlation between tattoos and good breakfast. I think it has something to do with people who are not caught up too much in the dominant paradigm. With the exception of the Mexican restaurant nearby that serves breakfast on the weekend, Alameda fails at item one. Alameda is the land of toast, which pretty much toasts item two. And the tattooed people I see around here are, well, retired sailors, mostly.
After that, I get to do whatever I want. It’s too early to know what the weather is like, but assuming it is going to be nice enough, I want to go up in the hills to hike. I want to sit in a café and read. I want to write and draw.
It’s a short vacation: I have to pick T. up at school at 2:53 (Yes, that is the actual time that school gets out. God forbid they have seven more minutes of instruction to round out the time.), but I have hours between now and then. Remember when an hour seemed like a really long time? I’m going there today.
And yes, this is part of being a good mom to myself.