Friday nights I make pizza. Saturday mornings Ames makes a huge breakfast.
This last weekend, it was very hot here in the Northwest. I think it was 90 F on Friday when I was biking home. Not perhaps hot by Southern standards, but people here don't generally have air conditioning. So yeah, it was hot. It was hot enough Ames decided to have a light breakfast: she sauteed some onions and peppers, scrambled some eggs, and cut some fruit.
When she called us all for breakfast, the youngest asked what was for breakfast. Ames told her, and she demanded in her most stentorian, Ghost of Christmas Present voice, ``Are there no grits? Is there no bacon?"
Sometimes I'm overcome with pride.