I smelled burning bread when I woke up, a clear sign that DF was fixing himself some breakfast. When I got to the kitchen I found he’d split and toasted two homemade rolls in the same frying pan used to cook a salmon burger and some onions.

By “toasted,” I mean that one half-roll was as black as the inside of a brunette cow. The other three halves were brown with cinderized rims. DF’s motto for his own food prep is simple: If it’s smoking, it’s cooking; if it’s charred, it’s done. Then again, he used to eat burnt match-heads when he was a little boy.

Burned bread, sizzled onions and a salmon patty: The breakfast of champions. It could just as easily have been leftover fish chowder, or leftover chili with rice. Or oatmeal with flax seed but no milk. Or nothing but coffee, if he’s fasting for religious reasons. His idea of breakfast is much more flexible than mine.

I almost always have oatmeal, although yesterday it was toast and fruit and homemade yogurt because we were out of milk. (I like a looser oat than DF does.) Neither way is necessarily better: Breakfast is, or should be, whatever works for you. If more people felt that way, they could save a lot of money.

Just spent a couple of days in Fairbanks with my friend Linda B. Today I came home to freshly waxed floors, freshly baked bread and freshly boiled whale. I am not making that up. Yes, DF really did wax the floors.

And yes, he really did boil a piece of Balaena mysticetus.

Last week I was invited to a party affiliated with the BlogHer conference in New York City. Since it took place the night I arrived and since I met the entrance criteria (blogger, 45 or older) I accepted. The sponsor was Boombox Network, an “online social media collective” for Baby Boomers.

(It’s always a surprise to realize that yes, I am a Boomer even though I never really associate myself with that group.)

Boombox throws a nice party and I met some very interesting women. Afterward the organizers told us to help ourselves to the lovely snacks that had been set out. Some of these were unopened and will remain so — until this week’s giveaway receives them.

Does the photo of Lavender Pecan Brittle hold any appeal? If not (or if so), there’s always the New Mexico Red Chile Caramel Corn?

I didn’t get to the supermarket for a few days after my arrival in Anchorage. Until then, I used the milk and oatmeal my hostess already had. When I mentioned that I’d be replacing what I used, she looked surprised.

“Uh, that’s really old milk. I meant to warn you off it,” she said.

It had tasted fine to me. That is to say, it tasted about as good as nonfat milk ever tastes – like the water they used to wash a cow. All that mattered to me is that it loosened up the oats in the bowl.

I nearly changed my tune when I checked the “sell by” date: April 5. It was then May 6. I was drinking milk a month past its prime.