Remember the other week, when we went to visit my Grandma? One of my fondest memory of my Grandma’s house is eating there. She cooked professionally for many years, and she makes a mighty fine breakfast.
Eating breakfast at my Grandma’s house is one of my earliest memories, in fact. My little sister and I walked from our house to hers almost every day, just in time for breakfast.
Going to visit my Grandma is like going back in time to those happy days. When we were there in November, Joe, Grace, Grandma, and I enjoyed two very leisurely and wonderful breakfasts. Some evidence:
Notice the bread sitting on the table? I always eat lots of toast with real butter and gobs of apple butter smeared on top. When I feel really ornery, I’ll tell Grandma that I’m not coming to visit unless she has apple butter waiting. I don’t really mean it, but she keeps the apple butter stocked up anyway.
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