Wonderful Sunday...

Bobbi's working the weird shift this weekend, so she got home after noon today. We pedaled over to Zest only to find out the tragic news. No more crème brûlée French toast! No more sausage-sausage gravy!

To assuage our grief, we pedaled up the Monon a bit...

My grief is somewhat assuaged by a Brugge hanger steak & frites, with sweet chili and hot curry sauces to dip the frites and a glass of the delicious sour Pooka beer.

 What a cool bike! Who sells Brooklyn bikes here locally?

 But of course that's the answer...

The owner of the 1967 Firebird is telling us two things with the windshield banner: 1) What year his car is, and 2) That he doesn't know how apostrophes work.
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