Meatloaf Sandwich & a Cupcake

For years, generations, centuries, even to the ages of ages, chefs of renown have sought to serve a breakfast better than Nana's meatloaf on whole wheat bread smeared with gravy, yet none has succeeded, as again this morning I breakfasted and a third cup of black coffee.

In the large, flat Krispy Kreme box from Wednesday afternoon, one donut waits: one single lonely glazed donut, longing to be loved. Who will take the last donut out of its box and warm it six seconds in the microwave?

“Not I,” said the cat.
“Not I,” said the goose.
“Not I,” said the rat.

“Then I will,” said Little Red Hen.

But the truth is, my breakfast dessert this clear chill Sabbath morn will be the best under the sun, a pecan pie cupcake mixed, stirred, poured into little tinsel cups and baked by my sister-in-law, my brother Walt's beloved wife Judy.


Early up, I witnessed Venus and Jupiter still slowly moving apart. 

Saturday: a workday for Father.

T