I Believe in Breakfast

I was the bad kid in class who wouldn't put my hand over my heart during the pledge of allegiance. I still am for the most part, but what I will do is pledge my allegiance to breakfast. I am a breakfast person -- I think it's the most rewarding meal and since I'm usually cranky and starving in the morning, it's made even better if it's purchased.

The perfect places for the perfect breakfast:

Zoka: The best place for a power breakfast. Sometimes there is the conflict of wanting breakfast and coffee out, but needing to do it fast. This one is close by to me and you can get a pot of tea and a mini bacon and swiss quiche while getting the quick & dirty from the friend you dragged with you.

Tilth: My favorite place for the brunch and booze.* It holds a special place in my heart because it's home to some of my favorite meals with friends, but emotions aside, the food is kickass. The bloody mary's aren't just filled with boozy goodness, it's boozy goodness made with heirloom tomatoes. And after I fill up on cocktails, I usually get the biscuits and chicken gravy (did you just hear my heart stop?), but it's so freakin' good I don't care. This is a place where you linger because it's so damn good and the company you keep promotes it.

Cafe Presse: Le Pichet in the morning. Oh so French, oh so Capitol Hill.

And finally, Bagel Oasis: The "hung-over/I'm too much of a piece of shit to cook breakfast" breakfast. I love their bagel, egg and sausage sammy with an over-priced Naked Juice. Every time I'm there I'm surprised that the health department hasn't filed some grievance against them, but I'm usually in a state of hunger-induced delirium so I don't care. And even better, the shabby Northwest-y appearance of the patrons and staff make me feel like I'm really not looking so shitty after all, despite the haphazard compilation of clothing that usually accompanies visits to the O.

* Note: It aint brunch if it aint boozey

I'll Wear It...

But don't ask me to adopt the lifestyle.

I say more power to you if you have convictions that are strong enough for you to abandon things like Louboutin and Gucci (or rather, the dream of Louboutin and Gucci) but for me, it's more of a "shut up, that's plastic?" bonus.

I recently started carrying this bag which I first fell in love with when my friend, Lisa, bought it on Orcas Island. If you're not familiar with the San Juan Islands, that is unheard of since usually you only choose between a gift shop t-shirt or a cinnamon bun. With her blessing, I bought it the next time I was on Orcas and 4 months later (island time) it was mine.

Now, though, when I get the compliments that I so adore, I blurt out "Oh it's vegan, like, plastic? And it's cheap. Like 70 bucks." I have NO idea why I can't stop this vomit of words that follows the compliment and I chastise myself thinking "that is NOT how Gwenyth accepts compliments on her Stella McCartney, damn you, damn you!" How did a vegan bag make my rule of grasciously accepting compliments fly out the window?

I've been thrown. I'm suddenly socially responsible and socially inept due to a bag.

Why?

Silk flowers for $185. Just don't. For $185 dollars I could buy a new arrangement of fresh flowers every week at the market and I wouldn't run the risk of reminding myself of my Aunt Sandy, who lives in a trailer and chain smokes Virginia Slims.

(They do look darn good though, but I'm partial to peonies).