I know most people enjoy breakfast-- but, for some reason, it makes me exceptionally happy. If I could have breakfast three times a day, that would be awesome. And that's kind of what happened this past Sunday. I first went to breakfast all bright and early with three friends, and then I went to a brunch thing that pretty much lasted the entire day (so I got in at least three or four plates of yumminess). Ha. My love for breakfast is definitely sentimentally linked to my childhood. Breakfast was something we always ate and something I always enjoyed. It is definitely my happy food. :)
Anyway, in honor of my "happy" Sunday, here are some shots I took at breakfast with my fancy shmancy new Canon point-and-shoot. Mmm. Makes me hungry.
sassy eggs for sassy me (ha)
N's crabalicious Santa Barbara benedict
Q's huevos rancheros atop refried beans that kept calling my name
P's retro omelette because that's how Minnesotans do ;)
communal key lime french toast because shared food is love :]
Eatery Info: Over Easy, 4943 N Damen Ave, Chicago, IL 60625
The car I currently drive is nearly 14 years old and I refuse to spend any more money on repairing it. It started out as the family car and then became mine and my brother's shared car and eventually became just mine. It has been through everything with me-- high school, college, past college, church retreats, short weekend roadtrips, and even that stint I did in cell phone frequency testing (yeah, don't ask). It is scraped up, bruised up, and beaten up. In "dog years," my car is 98 years old. And it shows:
The cover of the middle console is permanently separated from its body-- so if you rest your elbow on it, it'll plop off
All the hubcaps are missing
The driver's side visor is no longer present-- I have to block the sun with Post-Its
The radio antenna is broken and bent
The passenger side mirror is cracked and held up with black duct tape
The heat and air conditioning only work on the highest level
The windshield wiper fluid reservoir is cracked so it can't hold fluid therefore I can't clean my windshield. I have to stop at gas stations a lot and I almost died one rainy, muddy day.
When I drive or even when I'm idle, it sounds like metal clashing against metal
When I brake, it sounds like metal being suffocated by metal
When it rains and I drive, metal is having an all-out war
When it rains, water seeps into the trunk and wets everything back there
The aroma of male volleyball players' feet is permanent and lasting
When I hit a pothole, the entire body of the car shakes in a way that makes me think it'll eventually fall off the frame
The locks are broken so when I lock the doors, I have to remember to leave at least one door unlocked or I won't be able to get in with a key
If I find that all the doors have been locked, I have to resort to climbing in through the trunk
So what does this have to do with food, you ask? A few times now in the past two weeks, I've gone through a fast food drive-thru-- and each time, the car will be so loud that I can't hear the person on the intercom. So . . . I've had to turn off the car. In a drive-thru. And then had to start it up again. So I could leave. *awkward, shifty eyes* Yeaaahh . . . But you know what? Even though Al is old and decrepit, he's been good to me and, no matter how embarrassing, I'll continue taking him through drive-thrus for as long as he chooses to live.
The first two bullets were in one sitting, when I hit my 22nd hour of being awake. The third bullet was when I hit my 42nd hour of being awake, right before I finally got to sleep. Ha. All-nighters mess with my head and are brutal on my arteries.
The mother has been in the hospital for a couple of days working out some stuff (don't worry) and I've been staying overnight with her. The hospital is pretty sweet because the window seat turns into a mini bed and there's this nice shower and they give you cool baby shampoo and, suprisingly, the food ain't bad either.
I'm horrible though because when the food tray comes, I forget that I'm not the patient and pretty much pounce on it. This morning she had to get a procedure done early so I helped myself to her spinach and feta omelette . . . and also took the liberty of circling some menu choices for the next few meals. It was hard for me to circle "fish" instead of "macaroni and cheese" and "vegetable lasagna" instead of "burger," but I got over myself and focused on what she would want. In that sense, I'm not too bad. Ha. But . . . I found out later on that, because I had eaten her breakfast . . . they had to order her another breakfast tray. *sheepish look* Dude, I didn't think she'd be back in time and I thought I was helping out by not wasting food! *sigh*
