An autobiography of breakfast burritos.
  1. The Breakfast Buzz, San Luis Obispo
    In which I discover the underwhelming chaos of frat parties, and Saturday mornings that seem to go on for weeks. For whatever reason, I miss the dorm sign-ups, spend the first quarter of college living alone, and try to play friendship catch-up to the girls who share towels and trade crushes on the boys who work at The Buzz.
  2. My kitchen, Indiana
    Because the town I move to has no breakfast burritos in a 50-mile radius. What it does have: weatherproof shoes, front porches, the first time I drank a beer without just pretending to like it, people who read and listen and write you back, people who know not to use umbrellas during a snowstorm.
  3. Surfin' Donuts, San Clemente
    Home to watch my brother graduate, I briefly think how wonderful would it be if there were doughnuts or breakfast burritos near where I an staying. Sometimes I'm not sure about prayer. Sometimes I am.
  4. Tia Betty Blue's, Albuquerque
    Eaten the morning before we (the we I found in California and took back with me to Indiana) drive all night, trying to beat a January storm, and we take turns sleeping and thinking about where we are going and how to get back there and how quiet it is to drive at night with the dog taking up the whole back seat.
  5. Casa Latina, Berkeley
    Where we find an apartment we don't like but consider it on the merit of its proximity to eateries which are near our families, our home, ourselves and I tell him all a girl really needs is someone to bring her breakfast burritos in bed, someone to wrap her up tight and remember the green salsa.