A Fried Egg Sandwich and a View

Glenn brought home American cheese a few days ago, and I got a craving. Fried egg sandwiches, good ‘ole comfort food.

This morning Glenn showed his culinary artistry and viola, yummy, with the right amount of gooeyness. Simple to prepare and happy, happy, joy, joy to eat.

We brought our coffee, sandwiches, avocado and fruit plate out onto the terrace, played some get up and dance African tunes, gazed, and sighed over our view of San Miguel de Allende spreading to the other side of town.

We moved into our current rental a little over a month ago, the view a major selling point. Five terraces offer a multitude of viewpoints depending on which floor of the house we settle on. But the main floor terrace, off the kitchen, with dining table, umbrella and chaise lounges is where we most often park ourselves. There’s a little overhang that protects us for a while from the beat of the sun’s rays. But by afternoon we must pop back into the house for a bit of relief. We have a large window and sliding glass door onto the terrace, so when we sit at our dining table we still have our marvelous view.

I’ve popped out of bed early so I can breathe in the morning and catch the golden hue beyond the cypress on the left. It reminds me of Tuscany. Although San Miguel need not be compared to any as it is a marvel on its own.

The rest of the town is resplendent in shades of warm yellow, mustard, sienna, rust, olive, and caramel. And the iconic Parroquia dressed in pink soars over the Jardín.

Later, Glenn comes down and joins me for breakfast, which we stretch out as long as we can justify. Slothfulness is becoming a virtue.

After a pot of coffee, we break to do our online Pilates class with Rose, pulling our mats out onto the terrace tiles. Sometimes it is hard to concentrate on the videos, we keep gazing out and beyond. But Rose’s soothing voice comes through and encourages us.

We ease into the afternoon, the colors before us now muted, a bit of haze in the distance.

A gin and tonic sound perfect about now. So I grab the largest glass and drop in a lime, refreshing, and clean.

I am writing my memoirs and am a member of several groups that help me focus and experience accountability. In San Miguel, I can concentrate. It is a marvelous feeling and so contradictory to my always frantic state in the United States where I couldn’t get anything done.

An afternoon without working on an essay or two makes me feel off balance. It is nice to have a routine that I can stick to.

We eat in the late afternoon instead of at night since we don’t want to go to bed bloated and sagging. Something healthy, a fish or chicken and fresh vegetables, nothing pre-made or processed.  Our waistlines thank us.

The wine comes out.

It is a few hours till sunset but a breeze now stirs the trees, delightful.

A few finishing touches on today’s essay. Accomplishment gives me a boost, but it is time to vegetate and get engrossed in a book and reconnect with my husband. I hear him talking while I write, but the words don’t puncture my thoughts. Now, my time is dedicated to him.

Sunsets change. Our favorites sport a violet, rose, tangerine, and azul evening dress. Ready for a prom taking place on the other side.

As night falls the twinkling lights of the city are like glitter on a carpet. beneath us. We will toast them with a limoncello.

We wrap up another day with a perfect view in paradise.

And repeat tomorrow.