"I can't," I complained. "We have to clean this place up. It's a total pigsty. Your underwear's flung around everywhere."
"Let's go to breakfast," he repeated. "My treat."
So we went to Bliss, this restaurant about five minutes down the street. I can't really say that it's litle or out of the way, because it's been around forever and it's one of those ones that old people go to every Sunday, after they're done with their church and their dispensations to God. It's a place that for me evokes memories of cups of warm cocoa after going to LaSallette to see the annual lighting of their Christmas displays. First with my buds, then with Josie and the kids, then with Corb and the kids. It's funny how some things never change...only the faces do.
We both ordered pancakes. But we have totally different tastes in how they should be eaten. Here's mine: totally buttered up, and covered in sugar. It's a tradition I inherited from my Mom. I don't know if it's a Yankee thing or what.
Corb is more of a traditionalist. He likes his drowning in maple syrup. For me, that's just way too sweet.
After breakfast, we returned home, and set to work on cleaning, and watching Welcome to the Dollhouse . So there I am, reliving junior high, when suddenly my cell phone rings. "Hello?"
"Let's out for breakfast today," Josie said.
"Let's out for breakfast today."
"Okay," I said, and hung up the phone.
"What did Josie want?" asked Corb.
"We're all going out to breakfast," I said. So there we are, thirty minutes later, going back to breakfast, for a second round of breakfast. I think the waitresses were looking at us a little strangely.
Last night we went to the Rhode Island School of Design, to attend the opening of an exhibit of Edgar Degas: Six Friends at Dieppe . And no, we didn't french kiss over the French impressionists. It was a nice evening, although Corb didn't like the apple crepes served by Pot au Feu. After the exhibit, we went out to our favorite restaurant, Fire and Ice, and pigged out.
It was a nice evening. Corb took this picture of me after we returned to the car from the exhibit. I like the shadows, for some reason.