Sundays in My City

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In my home, Sundays are all about sleeping in, catching up on certain shows:







...and enjoying a late, late breakfast.

I make the weekend breakfasts. It was that way with my dad all my childhood and now it's my gig. Who is here for breakfast depends on the spend-the-night situations on Saturday. This morning was my daughter and her bestest.

First for a little boost:





this is what we use to store the less glamorous coffee I bought at the grocery




I tried to decide how many coffee makers I've had in my life. The only answer I could come up with is A LOT! Here's our latest. It's a work horse.




I lifted this mug from one of my sisters about 6 or 7 years ago. I will never return it.

Now it's time to make some breakfast. Sometimes I ask the kids what they would like. This morning was simple. Bacon and Pancakes. No egg or potato courses. No sweat.

So I turn this:






Into this:






And this:






Into this:






And this:





And finally this:






Which turns this:






Into this:






And now that the bellies are full and happy. It's time to write!

Cheers,

Casey