Riley stopped, panting, in the doorway of my room.
"Bob is an animal!" he said.
And then he proceeded to tell me about their cross-country run after work today. "I had to stop a couple of times," he said.
I told him about following Bob up Crowder's Mountain last fall. "I suggested once that he maybe just PRETEND he was breathing hard."
We are now eating sweet potato pancakes (The New Moosewood Cookbook," of course). And bacon. They are eating bacon. I tasted a bit the size of my fingernail. Nah. Not really appealing. They are testing various toppings for the pancakes. Like a science experiment. "I'm thinking butter and sugar," one says. "I don't know, I think the maple syrup is the best," another says. "Why not creole seasoning?" (this from Taylor, of course.)
Whatever. As long as they are happy. And they get to stand up while eating around the counter. Why do guys like to eat standing up?