Meep!

I was in Phoenix, Arizona – a place I had only heard about in movies.  Now I think about it, I was on my inaugural trip to America.  I still lived in England & had flown over to attend a girlfriend’s wedding in Utah.  I decided, on a whim, that I was going to fly down to Phoenix for a couple of days to hang with my buddy Shawn who I had not seen in the 2 years since he moved back stateside from Limey Land.  Anyway, gah, details, details…back to the story…

There I was, in Shawn’s car.  It was 6:15 am & it was already well over 90 degrees.  It was August.  Shawn was driving me out to the desert so I could see my first {huge} cactii & any other strange desert vegetation that was brave enough to poke it’s head out into the blazing summer sun.  It was all new to me.  And terribly exciting.  Then, out of nowhere – well to be accurate, out of the scrub on the side of the road – an odd-looking bird dashed, running furiously, as fast as it’s legs could swing back and forth.  A slender black-brown thing with white streaks, about 18 inches beak-to-tail, long skinny legs and a red crest on it’s head.  Oh, and an oversized bill.  I swear it was the craziest, happiest-looking bird I’d ever seen, barreling gaily, haphazardly through the orange dirt in the early morning sunshine.  “What IS that?” I asked Shawn excitedly.  “It’s a Roadrunner”, came the reply.

A Roadrunner?  What?  Wait!  Roadrunners are real?  As far as this little English girl was concerned, the Road Runner was a cartoon character from Looney Tunes that I had giggled delightedly at on the telly as a pale-faced, rosy-lipped child.  And now here I was chasing a real live Roadrunner down the dusty desert track.  It was one of those magical moments when your eyes & your mind collide – not quite being able to believe the reality while putting all the pieces together into a coherent whole.  I *squealed* incredulously, giddy with joy at seeing a cartoon character come alive right in front of me.  A little girl’s dream: meeting the Road Runner.

In case you missed the memo, “Meep!’ was added to the Oxford English Dictionary today.  So in the Roadrunner’s honor I share with you my breakfast, because eating breakfast at Cafe Presse conjures up much the same delight in me now as meeting the Road Runner on that very first trip to the Arizonan desert.  Except I don’t squeal out loud when I go to Cafe Presse.  Only on the inside. 

Pure peppermint leaves infused in boiling water with a spoonful of honey to sweeten…

Freshly baked baguette…unsalted butter…

Fresh hens eggs…finely sliced ham…shaved gruyere cheese…broiled until bubbling…

Scooping up the eggy, cheesey juices with a hunk of buttered bread…

Sitting facing the rising sun as it streams in through the window…

All such simple things.  Baked Eggs at Cafe Presse is just truly one of my very favorite ways to start the day.  {Once I’ve made it out of bed}

 I remembered as I sat there that it’s the simple things in life that make me truly happy.  Like Baked Eggs, sunshine & meeting the Road Runner.

Meep!

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