Breakfast With Butch

I think I've posted in the past about my Mom's revolving 6 meals 7 days a week.  Somehow though, it always ended up that we'd have a dried-out roast on Sundays... which I think has to be the sole origin of my interest in leather and a slight incomprehension to cycles in math.  In my Mom's defense, I was a pretty finicky eater growing up.  I pretty much grew up on ketchup sandwiches (Town-Talk bread and ketchup only), jumbo and ketchup, peanut butter and jelly or macaroni and cheese.  With H.J. Heinz headquartered in Pittsburgh, you pretty much had to put ketchup on everything... it's a rule.

I'm the worst for eating out... I very rarely eat at home.  Still, my Dad makes a meal on Sundays and I try to eat with him, even if I've just eaten.  Having been a baker in the past for Jenny Lee, he's actually a pretty good cook, although it's usually simplistically cute.  Steam-n-fresh veggies... pop-n-fresh biscuits... all stuff that's pretty simple.  My Dad's specialty is pancakes... he makes the best.  He'd make me really small ones called 'itsy bitsy' (pronounced "eatsy beetsy) and you always had to wonder what was in them.... sometimes oatmeal... sometimes wheat germ... sometimes who knows? Whatever, it always makes me feel special when he makes them for me.

Tonight, we had a meatloaf, corn, some potatoes and biscuits.  He'll cook, and I'll usually clean up.  And although it was really excellent, it's priceless to have this time with him.