“Did I wake you?”
Who is this? What time is it?
I bring my phone around, and as I pry my eyelids open I watch as the blurry image slowly comes into focus, and there before me is the face of:
“60% of the time, it works every time.”
He’s up already. WHY?! Why Sully? Breakfast isn’t for another (I glance at the time and my eyes widen) 2 HOURS! I sigh, “No. Sort of. No. Yes.” It occurs to me as I look at the clock for a second time, I had 5 minutes of sleep left. 5 minutes. Note to self: Sully owes me 5 minutes.
“There’s a problem…” I hear him say, and immediately my mind races and plucks the most obvious reason for his phone call because, really, who calls these days? Are you on fire? What can’t you say in a text message? Even though I much prefer phone calls to texting, no one else does and thus I can only assume that the nature of this call is of utmost importance. For example, he’s cancelling. He’ll be apologetic, tell me he’s sorry and that we’ll have breakfast next week, and I’ve already prepared my “oh that’s okay, no worries-BYE!” so that I can promptly collapse back into the warm cocoon of blankets I’d been extracted from 5 minutes too early.
“Can we have breakfast earlier?”
WHAT?! EARLIER?! Oh wow. Didn’t expect that one. Continue reading
Stepping out of the cab on this rainy Sunday morning in July, I stubbornly refuse to allow the weather to put a damper on my quest. I also ignore the fact that I’ve recently succumbed to the combination of gravity, a decline in a well worn bike path, and a weak right ankle, all of which have now rendered me a hobbling invalid. The thought had crossed my mind to abandon my quest, considering how long it takes me to travel to the bathroom from my bedroom, managing to get to a restaurant would be far more painful and challenging. But the enticing thought of devouring Eggs Benedict strengthened my resolve. Besides, my ankle is injured, and this has little to do with my mouth or my appetite. The door to Lisa Marie is a mere 10 meters away, and in the pursuit of Benny, I can manage that.
As I make myself comfortable on the bench next to the garage door style window, I take stock of my surroundings while waiting for Sully, noting the dark wood, white walls, and illustrations that decorate the interior of Lisa Marie. It’s got a homie, cozy feel to it. I hope to add ‘deliciously sated‘ and ‘satisfactorily drowsy‘ to that list post-brunch.
Sully’s arrived, and he’s excited, I can tell. His posture and the glint in his eyes indicate that he’s just as eager as I am, or that he’s still drunk from last night. This is good. Actually, it’s more than good. This is perfect. He’s everything I need him to be. Knowledgeable, a self-proclaimed food snob, easy on the eyes, and most importantly, hungry. Now, you may be asking yourself, what does ‘easy on the eyes’ have to do with this quest of yours? Absolutely nothing. But nevertheless, it’s doesn’t hurt. Continue reading