Toast

The last two mornings at work I've walked past a cluster of desks and smelled toast. And it smelled delicious!

I love toast. I love toast with butter. I love toast with jam. I love peanut butter toast; nutella toast; and peanut butter and jelly sandwich toast. I like toast dipped in hot chocolate or soup. I like french toast (although different, it's still technically toast).

Toast makes me think of my month spent in the United Kingdom with my sister and cousins in May 2005.

left to right:
me, I look like a mom in this picture;
cousin Ashley who got married in December;
sister Jess who gets home from her mission April 14;
and cousin Olivia who is having a baby in July and to whom I will be godmother (right Liv??)
--you wanted all that extra info didn't you?

We went with BYU-Idaho's British Literary Tour. It was fun to do that trip together. We were all known as "the cousins".

But, what do toast and our trip have in common? LOTS!

Every morning we ate toast. Lots and lots and lots of toast. I remember Liv mmm-ing and saying, "I LOVE TOAST!" frequently. The toast accompanied our full English Breakfasts (eggs, bacon, sausage, mushrooms, tomatoes, baked beans-yep, baked beans for breakfast, hash browns, and black pudding-although that only came at one hotel somewhere in the middle of Ireland and once we found out it was made with blood we were not eating it). I don't always have flashbacks to our trip when I smell toast, but for some reason both yesterday and today I thought of toast and breakfasts in Stratford-upon-Avon, Edinburgh, and our bus rides through the British countryside as I walked through the maze of cubicles in my office.

(Thank you Country Living for the picture of toast. And yay for me for having the cousin's picture at my desk so I could scan it in for blog adornment!)