Good Morning, Sunshine

If you know any dutiful churchgoers, you've probably at least heard of that experience when they (or you) walk into church, sit down, and hear a sermon that speaks exactly to some struggle they (or you) are having.

And so it goes with me today with that not-really-a-religion-but-feels-like-it-sometimes, food: I'm laying on the sofa at 6:30 this morning thinking that I really don't want to eat any of the usual suspects for breakfast. I want something savory, but not eggs. Something warm and satisfying. "What if I make grits with lots of butter and cheese?" Silence. So I'm not going to do it; I'm not hauling myself up to prepare food that my son and husband won't eat. Did I mention it's 6:30?

Then later, thank you, the Times suggests the very thing. It doesn't make my family any more willing to eat it, but it gives me a little vindication in the face of their disdain. And maybe tomorrow morning I'll make them go hungry as a sunny-colored bowl of grits slowly cools in front of them.