bed and giant breakfast....in Maine

I have the faint inkling that most of my antique chronicles
could quite possibly just be a listing of all the different foods that
we partook of on our trip. Because the food? It was a-plenty.
When I eat breakfast at home, I have oatmeal with fresh fruit.
And of course, coffee.
But we were staying at The Waldo Emerson Inn in Kennebunk, Maine.

It is the oldest house in Kennebunk built in 1753.
And Ralph Waldo Emerson's uncle, Waldo,
was one in a long line of presitigious owners of this house.
His nephew, Ralph, even stayed there.
I prayed that some of Ralph's writing annointing would seep into me as I slept.
He was a pretty good writer after all.
But back to the food....
Our breakfasts in Maine were lavish three course meals.
I am not kidding. I was a little scared but mostly overjoyed about
the ginormous breakfasts.
Because first, like I said, my breakfast is usually consisting
of a grain that is fed to horses.
But sometimes, people, there is a sincere need for bacon
and let us just say that on this trip that need was satisfied.
Along with the sausage need and the piping hot coffee need and the
fresh Maine blueberry need.
A need that I was not even aware that I had.
Each morning we had a platter of fresh fruit, followed by homemade
granola which was fantastic. Hello, lovely granola.
And then on three consecutive mornings we had french toast
(which basically was a caramelized cinnamon roll drenched in real
maple syrup....from Maine)and bacon, 3 egg omelets with banana nut bread and
sausage, and lastly a trio of pancake joy: a dutch apple pancake,
a chocolate filled crepe and a fresh blueberry pancake also accompanied by sausage.
Now I have to be honest, I only had one bite of the french toast.
Because I was so full of granola. Because I didn't realize that having
three meals for breakfast was an option. But it is. In Maine.
After the second day of breakfast my body decided I needed to stop
eating so much breakfast. I know this because I could not fit
my stomach into my pants. You know it is not good when you are full
before you get out of bed to go down to breakfast.
So I had to limit myself.
Because I only brought 2 pair of pants with me.
And I needed to fit into my pants.
Since they don't let you go antiquing in Maine without pants.
But my sister-in-law, Traci, who is slim like a willow, looked
forward with unabated joy to the large breakfasts.
I'm not sure where her breakfasts went because her stomach looked
great the entire trip.
Me? I could have purchased some maternity clothes by the time I left.
But the thing that we all thoroughly enjoyed about the breakfasts
besides the mouth watering tastes and local ingredients,
was the part that we didn't cook it. We woke up.
We went down to the table.
And the breakfast was magically placed before us.
Our coffee cups were filled and we didn't have to do dishes.
I know that I sound all braggy so let me go ahead and tell
you what happened yesterday morning.
Yesterday morning I woke up and there was no breakfast.
I wanted to wake up Scott and say,"Granola, please."
Unfortunately, at the Aughtmon Inn, I am the breakfast maker.
And that made me feel a little forlorn. Yep, it did.
Did I mention that I really liked Maine?
I miss you, Maine. You and your magic breakfasts.