That's right, I went there. I'm thankful for mornings.
In as much as I am not a morning person, and will snarl at you if you wake me before my alarm (I have incredibly epic music by Two Steps From Hell to wake me up-I cannot snarl at that), I do enjoy the feeling of early mornings. Seeing the sun cut through the mist-or seeing it rise (that's a rarity for me). The smell of coffee (that's how I become awake enough to appreciate mornings). Sizzling bacon. (I have to do that myself now. It was better when I would wake up to the smell of bacon. See: Granddad, burning of bacon.)
I have two favorite mornings, which happen to coincide with my favorite holidays: Christmas and Easter. (See: church, only two times a year where are you guys srsly.
On Christmas morning, we would naturally get up far more alert than usual, because presents. There was also breakfast to look forward to. It was tradition for the entire Sarver clan (and trust me, by clan I mean CLAN. How did we all fit into one room? Subspace, I guess.) get together for breakfast. We took turns hosting it, and it was usual Southern fare-bacon, eggs, bacon, sausage, bacon, pancakes, bacon, toast, and, of course, bacon. Normally breakfast would go on well into the morning, because not everyone got up early for some bizarro reason. (Understandable on days that are not Christmas.)
Now Christmas morning is: get up, drink some coffee, and head to church. After church is coffee hour, where people often exchange gifts with others they don't see as often, and meet visitors from out of town. Then, it's back home, where we have lunch (I tend to make potato bacon soup, because it is amazing, and has bacon) and open presents, and depending on the plans of other family members, watch cheesy holiday movies the rest of the day.
Easter morning goes a bit differently. Back in Virginia it was church, then an Easter egg hunt, then a Really Big Dinner involving ham. (Pretty much everything involves ham in some way in the South, I think.)
Easter morning now is "What time is it?" "9." "I'm going back to sleep, we didn't get home until 2 last night." "I'M GETTING UP WE GET LAMB TODAY."
See, our Easter service actually starts at 11:30 the night before. This means we get through the Resurrection service by midnight, then we have an actual liturgy, then we go eat lamb soup (don't ask me to spell the Greek name, I can't remember it), break eggs, and more or less indulge our meat-starved systems as much as possible, and watch the younger altar boys pass out on the sofa because they haven't hit the teenage years where sleep is for lozers. Then we totter home and prepare for Easter afternoon, because there is no way you're getting anyone in to church at 10 am after that.
So, as I sit here, drinking my coffee, I get ready for another morning. Once the coffee kicks in, my thought processes should be slightly more coherent.
Oh mornings. How I love and hate you.