I was on our front patio, comfortably set back from the street, drinking coffee, reading the paper, idly texting with a friend back east. It was 8:30 on a sunny Sunday morning. In a little while I’d get dressed and we’d get in the car and head over to Sea Level Bakery in Tolovana Park for a cappuccino and a cookie and nab a baguette for later.
I wasn’t intending to write about this, but I’ve devised entire meals around Sea Level bread. Both the baguette and the bâtard stand up well to marinara sauce should you decide to go Italian; I’ve made open face sandwiches with roasted tomatoes, arugula, and buffalo mozzarella. We’ve eaten it very simply, slathered with good butter. My husband likes dipping it into a small bowl of olive oil. Even if you don’t get around to eating it until the next day, it freshens up nicely popped into a 350-degree oven for three minutes, sprinkled first with a little water.
Meanwhile, I was enjoying the morning out front in my bathrobe.
Let me say I have a very nice bathrobe. It’s pink and made by the company called Natori. I got it a year ago and it’s been washed a fair amount and soon I should probably think about replacing it, but not yet. It’s not stained and no threads are hanging off. It does a great job masquerading as a light overcoat when I want to sit out on a summer morning while still in my pajamas.
Some people are very energetic Sunday mornings. They burst out of bed and take off for a run on the beach or 90 minutes of yoga at Cannon Beach Yoga Arts. People on vacation like to take advantage of the fact they can amble over to the Wayfarer or the Driftwood and have a Bloody Mary with their breakfast, or, better yet, as their breakfast. Me, I like to come to life slowly, coffee in hand. I make the first cup at home in Seaside, grinding my own beans, using a French press. I like to engage my spouse in meaningful conversation since it’s the only day of the week at least one of us isn’t rushing out. If the weather is cooperative, we like to take this talk outside.
We could sit out back, which is 100 percent more private. We finally got around to having a backyard table and chairs. But somehow the streetscape is more alluring. People are walking by. There are families in surreys. One day I saw a guy riding a bike towing a surfboard. What with the parade of dogs, children, hot rods and people in funny hats, there’s a remarkable Dr. Seuss “To Think That I Saw It On Mulberry Street” vibe going on streetside.
Which I prefer to take in wearing a bathrobe.
Not long ago I realized I have become that woman who talks to people over the fence. For most of my life, this has been a derisive image. But something’s shifted. Mostly I talk to my next door neighbor when she passes by with her pup. The other day I talked to a woman exercising her twin pugs. Sometimes while I’m out there, I do a bit of weeding.
I’m proud to say I’ve grown into a time in my life where it’s no biggie to face the world wearing a bathrobe.
I call that progress.