2006-08-17 - 10:23 p.m.
The sage insisted that if indeed an angel had visited my dreams, it was only because it had no place else to be. And if it hadn't stayed long, that was because my dream smelled badly, as human dreams often do.
I insisted that it hadn't been angel, but rather a Dickensian Christmas ghost, who I had made fun of for being from Dickens, and thus, lame.
Whatever it was didn't much matter anyways, as its message had been simple and clear. My pancakes were lacking in both texture and flavour, and the time had come to get them right.
And so, I invite you, Victorian reader, to the ASCO Institute First-Ever Pancake Luncheon. And, yes, I know I just said that my pancakes are no good, but that's no reason you shouldn't stop by this Saturday after 3pm to see how Mr. Breakfast (http://www.mrbreakfast.com) and I are doing.
