Sunday morning

Breakfast in bed. Hot tea from flask. Yogurt and Misfits fruit.

While I was cutting the fruit, on the red cutting board, noticed I haven't used this one as much as the others, red not being a color I like.

A work colleague and I, when were both in graduate school having to write dull old papers, used to make up fake studies with surveys and questionnaires to amuse ourselves. Comic relief.  

Such as what percentage of women in a public bathroom given a choice of stalls, would pick the middle one. Or how many men would put back the milk container with one spoonful of milk left in it. Or what's the gender breakdown between people putting dishes straight into the dishwasher rather than an  interim place in the sink. What are the relative sizes of people and their dogs, do big people like little dogs and vice versa. We thought these observations would be more fun for questionnaire purposes than what we were writing.

And today I have a new fake study. Of all purchasers of this set of colored cutting boards, which came in a set, no color choices, what's the favorite color. Or ranked choice, what's the order of preference for use.

Anyone may take part. My own vote runs: green, yellow, blue, red.  What's yours? I'm disregarding the instructions which came with the set, which color was for what food. Their lawyers probably wrote it.

Breakfast in bed, chair exercises

If you spot a theme here, you're right.

Lazy life right now. Breakfast was very early, son's morning text before leaving for work came at 5.30.   So I thought to myself, self, I thought, breakfast in bed this morning. Buttered toast, pot of tea.

 That pot holds about a cup and a half of the matching mug. Like a big breakfast cup.

The tray, sheet iron, was a very good street find. It had been put out for the recycle, rejected by them, not tin nor aluminum, so it came home with me. This is a high end find -- in a gutter in what the media calls affluent western Princeton! Only the best.

It had a horrible faux colonial decoration, so I applied one of my all purpose remedies -- sprayed it white. I like it because it's big enough for everything you need.

And when I get up, plans include playing music, making a bit of art, possibly finishing up an Izzy doll or two, but let's not get carried away here, and a new exercise program I just found.

I've been a slacker on my weight training for a while, and this is interesting stuff, to get back into it.  I've been doing weights pretty steadily for over twenty years, and I'm pretty sure it's helped me avoid joint pain, stiffness, and other ills.

 It also makes a person feel stronger and more capable in all kinds of ways. So I'm going to give this program a try. It's HASfit on YouTube. And it's done in a chair, gentle theme today.

 If you're limited in mobility, this shows adaptations, and the recommendation came from a Twitter friend who has severe physical limitation and pain, and finds this approach doable. 

You just do what you can. A friend of mine after her husband died, wanted to get back some fitness, after a long period of stress and caregiving, so she consulted a personal trainer.

 They did a preliminary session to establish her current level, at the end of which the trainer said, well, about your core. You haven't used it in years!  So they started by finding it. I think she's using it now.

So that's today's ambition: use my core! I know it's around somewhere. I had it a minute ago.

Breakfast in bed, celebrating me!

Banana apple ginger bread, warmed and buttered, pot of tea, thank you.

Note about the raspberry jam I shared with a neighbor -- he told me he's trying to make it last by alternating with shop bought jam! I think he's hinting I should make more.

B in B, that would be Breakfast in Bed

On account of the fact that I woke early, and refrained from jumping up and doing things, in favor of a wiser approach of a leisurely start to the day, I decided on breakfast in bed.

Now, when you live alone, this involves more than having Jeeves or a nice lady in a frilly cap coming in and opening the curtains and presenting a nice cup of tea.  

It's about getting up, going downstairs, feeding the cats, poaching the lovely freerange egg, making the toast, fixing the coffee, arranging the tray, then staggering back up with all this, cats hindering at every point.

Then comes the logistical challenge of getting into the bed with the contents of the tray intact, and then the eating part is pretty easy.  Critical readers will note that the bread is, shock, horror, bought bread!  which shows how weak I've been ran out of bread, couldn't bake more, son provided slices of whole wheat to tide me over.

Also very luxurious on a sunny day with the cherry blossom, what's left of it, blooming outside.  

And, though you can't see her, a myrtle warbler breakfasting on the blossoms out there.  I guess it's either pollen or minute insects, rather than poached egg on toast. To each her own. Chacune a son gout, no accents, bring your own. I gave the feminine form as a default..don't tell me breakfast isn't political!

 Good news about prospective tenant for next door: single middle aged lady with cat.  This sounds like someone who's unlikely to replace the former occupants' blasting home entertainment unit, yay. Well, we'll see!