Anson got up this morning and asked what I wanted for breakfast. I'm usually not very inspired by breakfast unless it involves hollandaise sauce, so my answer was a not-very-helpful, "I don't know, whatever." I got out of the shower and Anson appeared at the bathroom door solemnly telling me to put on a robe and come eat the best breakfast ever.
It didn't have hollandaise, but it was damn good. Pretzel bun (unused sample from work that I never would have thought to eat), layered with a fried egg, melted provolone and the kicker--Trader Joe's Soyrizo (soy chorizo). He even poured a glass of orange juice ("as part of a complete breakfast").
We enjoyed our breakfast and read the paper and all the stories about Michael Jackson. How strange. I think underneath all the weirdness he often had a great message and seemed to be genuine in his concern for the human condition. Let's hope that lives on. "If you wanna make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and then make a change."
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