When it's cold outside like this morning, I always think of waking up at my grandparents' house in the winter when we lived with them for a while. They always kept it freezing in their house because Jimmy Carter told them to and so I'd sleep in the bed piled high with scratchy wool blankets and quilts so heavy I could barely move.
We got up before the sun rose and the first thing I'd do is stumble sleepily to the kitchen in my flannel nightgown and stand by the stove. The oven door was cracked open and there'd be a cookie sheet inside with slices of white bread dotted with pats of butter. It was the warmest spot in the house so I'd stand there and shiver until the toast was done.
I only ever got the last sip of coffee, but it was served in some seriously retro mugs, which of course weren't retro at the time. The ones I remember most were brown and orange striped. Sweet coffee, lightened with evaporated milk. Swiss Miss with those hard little marshmallows was in my mug.
When the toast was done, we'd sit down and eat, still shivering. The toast! There's not a slice of Wonder bread in my house today but I can still remember the taste - crispy on top, except for five spots of buttery deliciousness. And the bottom of the toast was still Wonder bread doughy, nice and warm. The combination of textures - mmmm. Add some Bama apple jelly and I can't think of anything finer.
These days, I make my whole wheat toast in a toaster and, even though I keep the heat at 66°, it's almost always warm when I wake up in the morning. It surely makes it easier to get up in the morning, but I don't know - I miss the old way.