OMG, Breakfast of Champions, anyone?

So you read about the race. Done with that for a while until I have to pull it out when Michelle asks what I've done lately and then tell her "I ran a 5K, what did you do?" since she always chickens out at the last minute.

Post-race, Michelle said, "Let's go to breakfast," which I was kinda shocked hearing because she never wants to go out to breakfast. Since we were downtown, I suggested Smith Street Diner, a little (emphasis on that word) place neither of us had tried but always said, Hey, that looks like a greasy spoon that would make a killer breakfast.

You know what? That greasy spoon makes a killer breakfast. People stand out on the sidewalk waiting for a table in the two room place. Their biscuits are the size of a bowling ball, their pancakes have that nice griddle crisp on the edges while staying soft on the inside. And it's cheap.

I might start waking up early on work days and sneaking down there for a quick bite, making excuses to Michelle like, Oh, we have a very important meeting every Tuesday morning from now on. Starts at 8 a.m. because the EVP who's running the meeting is originally from Australia and it's already tomorrow there and he doesn't want to wait another minute for an update.

I don't know if I would get away with it, but it would certainly be worth it to try. Which I guess I can't do now because Michelle is usually the first person to read this blog and now she's onto my little plot. I'll have to get my boss to call her and tell her the meeting is for real, which then means I'll probably have to buy off my boss with biscuits, which adds to the cost. Damnit.