Consolation Prize

Since Ms. B. and I missed out on our traditional Mabry Mill breakfast yesterday (“Another Parkway Pilgrimage”), I made myself a bunch of killer slapjacks — along with a side of bacon — for this morning’s breakfast. They really are not fancy or complicated; just some Hungry Jack pancake mix, an egg, some milk, and a splash of Southern Butter Pecan coffee creamer in the batter, cooked on the cast iron skillet. Some real butter and maple syprup, et voilá... massively satisfying slapjacks. Not quite Mabry Mill’s combo of buckwheat, sweet potato, and flour pancakes, which is absolutely my favorite, but I’d rack these suckers up against just about anything else.

Of course, it was followed by an immediate weight gain:

Super Bowl Blowout

The closest I came to the Super Bowl yesterday was hearing the pre-game show running in the background while I sat at the bar at Fitzgerald's Irish Pub in Chapel Hill during a brief break from a day (and night) of fairly intense geocaching. I can tell caching is keeping me young because I put in enough miles on foot to be an achy old dude today. As far as the game goes, I'm led to understand that a flock of birds trounced a herd of horses, and I don't know what-all, but as for me, I was all caught up in a highly educational experience. I learned that when you order a Bloody Mary (which, on Sundays, are $3.00 at Fitzgerald's) and the bartender asks if you'd like it with bacon, you say, "YES!" Or even "HELL YES!" if the mood overtakes you. For me, it did.