Today was the annual color run in B'more. I joined half a dozen friends post-run for brunch. Not that I ran in the race. I had breakfast then went to church. They ran around. And we met up to eat. Just like how I like my Sundays to be.
Not only did I not start my day with exercise, my biscuit consumption sank to a new low. Or maybe a new high.
Ilene: What, do they know you by name?
Moi: Oh, we're long past that point.
This morning, I didn't get a biscuit sandwich at the farmer's market. I "just" got a slice of poundcake. And Damian (the benevolent biscuit baron) expressed his disappointment. "This isn't like you." "But I also got a plain biscuit!" "That's a little better. I'm just surprised. I thought you would have gone for the oxtail."
Having 2 breakfasts isn't easy, Folks (2.5 if you count the bite of challah I stole before I left the house). And sometimes, it means disappointing a few biscuit-makers along the way.
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