Sunday Sniffles and Surprise Baskets

This morning I woke up and peeked out the bedroom window. Rain. And it was cold. And my nose was clogged on one side. And it was hard to breathe. And so I fluffed my pillow, leaned against it, covered myself tightly with the feather comforter and went back to sleep.

At 9:00 I woke up to the sound of my husband saying something along the lines of "looks like a lousy day out there". I agreed.

My head was still stuffy. I felt like staying wrapped up in  the warmth of the blanket all day but, instead, I rolled out of bed and grabbed the Sunday paper. Except I didn't read it. I just completed the two Sudoku and wracked my brain over the crossword puzzle.

I didn't feel like reading it. I decided I was just going to spend the day being lazy, writing a bit (I'm taking part in two writing challenges in November), doing whatever I please, anything that might help me forget that my head felt like something strange had moved in there and brought a heck of a lot of items with it, all of them stuffed in the crevices of my wee little head. Forget reading the news. Forget church. Forget anything that couldn't wait until tomorrow. But not breakfast.

At our house on most Sundays we enjoy an American breakfast. Sometimes it is scrambled eggs and chives with English muffins. Other times fried eggs, sausage and home fries or perhaps Weisswurst und Suessersenf mit warme Brezeln (German veal sausages that are eaten with sweet mustard and warm baked German pretzels...yeah, okay. That doesn't qualify as American breakfast but it is tasty.) On rare ocassions we might do carbs--French toast with fresh cinnamon apple topping, buckwheat pancakes with bananas, nuts, and maple syrup. Homemade oatmeal. But today we were having my favorite. Omelettes. The best part? Sicky me didn't need to prepare it. Stefan made the coffee and then started cooking breakfast. He is the best.

My favorite is mushroom-onion-cheese but we didn't have any fresh mushrooms. So instead we shared a red bell pepper-onion-and-cheese omelette with salsa. Yum! I had breakfast sausages and Stefan had a Pennsylvania specialty....scrapple. And he had it all to himself because neither Katarina or I eat it.  As usual, Katarina had eggs sunny side up and bacon.

For those of you who have never seen scrapple, here's his plate.

After breakfast came the basket surprise. On our doorstep I found this.

Sorry. You'll have to turn your head. My computer is acting up and I'm on Katarina's and it wouldn't let me flip the pic. Anyway, what's inside it? Let me see if I can find a closer shot.

Two loafs of braided bread, a marble cake, homemade Jochelbeeren Marmalade (jam made from Jochelbeeren....I don't know the name in English but it is a cross of red currants and gooseberries. Yum!), and homemade Quitten Likör (quince liquor).

Who would do such a thing? Nicole! She loves to baking and canning. So why did she give me this lovely gift? Well, I am sure that she'd tell you it's because of a project we are taking part in this year where you "pay it forward" to 5 people by giving them a homemade gift and 5 people do the same for you. Not only am I on her list, but she is on mine. But I know that's not the real reason she did it. She did it because she loves me.

Haha.

THANK YOU "NIE KOHLE".

Then we all just hung out, hiding from the rain. Later we ate some of that marble cake. It must be magical cake, because the sun started to shine. Stefan went out for a run. I ran my overdue books to the library. Katarina did those things teenagers do, then she went to her boyfriend's house.

Stefan and I took a walk later. While we did the clouds changed from white to almost amber then pink. Soon the sun dropped out of sight and it was dark. I hate this time of year, after switching the clocks back. You leave home in the morning when morning has barely broken and return home to darkness. Not my idea of fun.

Now, in just one hour, Sunday will be over. It wasn't very productive, but it turned out to be an okay day. Also, my nose is no longer clogged. Instead, it is running like a fountain. You can't win them all.