After yesterday’s rather manic throw-together, something a little more civil today . . . “I believe,” an inspirational hit from 1953 —
It’s a click-bait header, I know . . . .
But I had a heart attack on a plate yesterday morning.
When in England, I love fried bread at breakfast. Look it up. It’s on the breakfast buffet at any swank hotel.
Here in the States, I make fried bread about once a year. It’s so easy and so fast and so yummy and so heart-killing. (Don’t ask me what the frying agent was.)
I’m watching loads of BBC stuff on the streaming services late in the evening, and Monday evening I found myself craving fried bread.
With homemade bread in the fridge, and bacon and eggs always at hand, I indulged.
So there it is. And there it was. And call my cardiologist.