1. Got up, threw on an ugly ensemble of rumpled brown highwater slacks, a half milk, half cream colored pair of dollar store socks, Whitworth hoodie, and ebony crocs and told Deke I was going to Appleby's for a five dollar Special Olympics benefit breakfast. I figured I'd be going Hans Solo, but the Deke wanted to go and so we did.
The breakfast was perfect: fluffy pancake, modest heap of scrambled eggs, three slices of bacon, not crisp, but cooked through, just the way I like it, served on a festive oval platter accompanied by a pint glass of iced orange juice . I loved that Appleby's served everyone the same plate of food: no menu, no decisions: just sit down, get some coffee and juice, wait a few minutes, and a steamy plate of morning energy appeared. And, it was all you can eat, but Deke and I stopped at one plate!
If I found out a restaurant took this one plate, one pancake, scrambled egg, tender bacon, five dollar, no order needed approach to breakfast, I'd be there every Saturday.
2. Snug and I went errand hopping and software windowshopping and we listened on the radio as the Ducks screamed to a 45-17 halftime lead over Arizona, but by the time we took a stroll in Westmoreland Park and came home to debone the whole chicken that had been in the Crock Pot all day and by the time we ate our dinner, the Ducks had squandered all but three points of that magical lead, but hung on to win 55-45, and in celebration Snug ate a Pig's Ear.
3. My midmorning, post Appleby's tooling around town featured the XM radio tuned in to the Led Zeppelin channel and I nearly ecstatically crashed into the front of Old Navy when "Hearbreaker/Livin' Lovin' Maid" jumped out of the sky and into the tinny speakers of my '93 Honda Civic.
3 comments:
"poured like an anode" >>> I think if I ever started a mining-themed bar in Kellogg I would call it "The Anode Shack", named, of course, after the place where the anodes went to join the great melting pot and be reborn as new anodes. Sort of like gigantic belgian waffles, except made out of lead. At least that's the way I remember it.
I poured thousands of those lead waffles out in the anode shack. It was a great job as long as I didn't ladle the molten lead down my boot.
I am relieved that you remembered to turn on the Crock Pot and that trait has come to a stop in the family genepool!!!
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