Sunday's never turn out the way you expected.
It began with love and laundry. Interesting that both can be described as clean and dirty. Then there was the bakery. I knew the seeded rye bread would be perfect for French Toast. I am rarely wrong when it comes to food. People shouldn't argue with me. French toast - anise, cloves, fennel, cinnamon, and cardamon, yogurt, cream cheese, vanilla, fresh blueberries, blackberries, sliced ripe peaches. The French sure know how to do breakfast. After all, it is the most important meal of the day.
N came over for my theory lesson. Amazingly it is starting to click. "Don't ask questions" says N. Sometimes these little miracles do happen.
We went out to run some errands around 3:45pm The streets were eerily empty. Suddenly, screams of ecstasy exploded from a white cookie cutter house across the street. Then another, then another. Suddenly it dawned on me - Superbowl Sunday.
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