I went out yesterday afternoon with a friend of mine, who is visiting from Australia. Her dad is in the hospital in Surrey, so she definitely needed a break. We headed down to Charlie Don't Surf...probably one of the most recognizable restaurants on the Marine Drive Strip. We drank wayyyyy too much wine, and ate some horrible nachos, and made a night of it. Thank goodness the P-Man got my text, and came down to join us so I had someone to hang on to on that long walk up the big hill. The walk seemed much longer than usual, as I was walking a bit slower than usual, all the while cursing my choice of platform footwear!
I woke up around 9 am today. I drank quite a bit of water, and coffee, and have had a few tylenol, and have done a bit of cooking. Nothing too strenuous...but something warm and filling, and comforting. I decided to make myself a fried egg sandwich. I don't recall how old I was when I learned to make this sandwich...but it seems like something I have always known how to make. I never change it. Two pieces of fresh bread, never toasted. A small pan with a bit of butter and canola oil, and 1 cute little egg. The egg is never scrambled, just fried, with a broken yolk. Salt and pepper on the egg, and a little more butter on the bread, and THAT'S IT!! Happiness on a plate. Today...I didn't even cut it in half. If I ever taught a cooking class...I would lead with a fried egg sandwich. The ones who didn't ' get it ' would be OUT...and the rest of us would all move on to macaroni and cheese. The joy of being able to make yourself a meal...however simple, to suit your mood, and to fill you up, has got to be one of life's greatest pleasures. I am happy today.
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