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Apples and French Toast.

That was my breakfast.

My beautiful, wonderful, glorious breakfast.

I woke up two hours early for absolutely no reason this morning. Instead of forcing myself to go back to sleep, I decided to make a good breakfast. By good, I mean oh-my-god-this-is-unhealthy.

Actually. I don’t think it was that much more unhealthy than any other breakfast I’ve ever made. This had way less sugar in it than the puffed rice I eat every morning. Yeah, I eat puffed rice. I’m also 78 years old.

I’ve toyed with the idea of posting recipes on here. I love cooking and baking and generally making good things, whether it’s to eat or to look at or to read or what have you. Maybe one day.

In case you’re wondering, the french toast was just regular old french toast. ~.25 c. milk : 2 eggs.

I cut up two apples and threw them in a pan with about a tablespoon of butter and let them caramelize for about 5 or 6 minutes, then threw a small amount (I don’t really measure anything ever) water in them to simmer off for a bit. Then I put a little bit of sugar-free maple syrup on them and some cinnamon. I think it probably cooked for like 10 minutes total. I drained all the syrupy goodness onto my toast first, then dumped the apples on.

Not the best picture.

I think I may have this again in the morning. Followed by forcing my dog to go on the trail with me so I’m not terrified. ‘Cause, you know, a Maltese can surely fight off bears, rapists, and rednecks (or redneck rapist bears.)

Oh my god. I can’t look up when the commercial for Insidious comes on if I want to sleep tonight.

Back to my date with Love Wins and Sammy the French Press.

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