Kind of a quiet day. Wife and the two sophomores went to early mass, and then came home to get me so we could have Sunday brunch at Fat Boys again. I was just heading into the shower, wearing two days of whiskers on my face, when they came home.

She expected me to be ready to jump in and go.

Would have been nice if she had shared her plans with me. But still got into the Explorer within 15 minutes.

Had to ride in back. Youngest son has his learner's permit now, and uses the need to "learn how to drive" as an excuse to ride up front.

His brother did the same thing. I don't think they watch their mother's driving for more than 15 seconds. After that they just enjoy riding shotgun and having control over the tunes.

Fat Boys is in the Holiday Inn. It hasn't been the Holiday Inn for more than a dozen years, and has had at least four or five different names and managers since then. But the Holiday Inn was the regular 10:00 coffee hangout for a lot of us regulars for more than a decade, and our Sunday breakfasts (which I have mentioned before, but am too lazy to look up the link) until they changed hands. And it will always be the Holiday Inn to me.

Just like the Days Inn is really the Ramada.

Anyway, the Holiday has only four booths on the outside, glass wall, facing the enclosed pool and lawn area. Best seats in the house. In the good ole days, we would almost always time our arrival just right to get one of the window booths.

But none of the subsequent managers knew how to run a good, clean and friendly restaurant. So we quit going. Now a friend is running it. One of the "Fat Boys."

Got one of the window booths today. Interesting to sit there again, reminiscing about Sunday breakfasts pre-and post-wedding. Pre- and post-children.

Waitress knew our name (well, the wife at least), so we got to seat ourselves and just head straight to the buffet. Coffee was waiting when we got back.

Since it is an "all you can eat" buffet, can't save anything for heelers. So, as before, we order a side-order to go of bacon.

Heelers love pigmeat.

Wife's godson did not understand why we would not let him add his surplus pieces to the dogbox. Gonna have to work on that.

Speaking of heelers... we have bending the rules for the masked heeler with considerable liberty the past couple of days. She's been allowed out of her "den" to join the rest of the pack in the kitchen, dining room or bedroom. You can see the thrill in her eyes and tail.

She has been going into the bathroom with her sister, while the wife is on the throne, so get the morning backrubs (it's a time when they know your hands have nothing better to do).

She has even been loafing on the bed with us, although with a leash attached so that she cannot leap off with her sister.

Still on the leash for all outings, as well. You can see she has been terribly frustrated to be attached to a slow human, as her sister dashes madly around the yard to check all the new smells first.

"First smell" is apparently quite important to heelers. I suspect it is a status thing, as everyone has to run up to check what you discovered, while you run on to new conquests.

The past few days and nights, I have been dashing along with her, along the south sidewalk, allowing her to get first smells on all the south curbing trees and bushes.

Suspect that looks a little strange to the neighbors.

A few hours ago, she was doing "puppy leaps" through the snow as we ran from one bush to the next (ahead of her sister).

Life is good.