Fall is finally in the air again, at least in the mornings, so I've informed Noah that I'll be taking my tea and toast out on the porch while the weather holds. Not because I expect him to bring it to me; I'm just keeping him abreast of what's happening in my life. Like when he tells me, "I have no clean underwear," or "Could you make dinner?"
As does everyone, I'm sure, I associate food with seasons, but I like to take the association one further. For instance, I will never be able to eat a toaster strudel without thinking of The Sound of Music, nor watch it without eating one I suspect, because during the winter of eighth grade—my first winter in Chicago as a transplanted Californian—I would walk home from school, thaw in a warm bath, get under a blanket with a toaster strudel or two, and watch The Sound of Music. It was a dark, sad time.
Tea and toast is the perfect cool weather, British-style brekky. As it happens, I'm reading The Fellowship of the Ring, and tea and toast are just the sort of thing hobbits would eat. Perfect! I spread a little Nutella on mine, which Tolkien doesn't mention specifically, at least not that I've found yet (I'm only in chapter four).
I tried reading it once before. My friend Brett gave it to me, along with Dune, for my seventeenth birthday, and while I loved Dune, TFotR lost me at Tom Bombadil. I mean, what the heck? Am I right? Anyway, I'm giving it another go, and I'm rather enjoying it. Tolkien was quite brilliant with beautiful turns of phrase and subtle humor.
Reading the book has also improved my relationship with Noah. Every time he sees me reading it, he looks at me with an intensity of desire I haven't seen from him before. And I'm reminded, once again, that I married a big dork.