burbon+burbon milkshake+beer+burgers+fries+onion rings+cheese wiz tater tots+fried short rib blue balls = must run up hill both ways to the 3rd power.
We ran the bridge. The Ben Franklin. We biked to the bridge. Mr. A was riding a hoop-dee. I felt badly and kept looking back to make sure he was still upright on that thing. During our run he was secretly hoping it would get stolen.
That bridge is no joke (like A). Half a mile uphill, half a mile downhill, and repeat. When I stopped to walk for 1 minute I knew A was instantly drafting (lovingly hilarious quasi-serious) material with which to torment me.
Once the exercise was checked off the list it really was time to work on filling our quota for the day.
As always, A had a great suggestion. He knew it was one of my top 10 faves upon suggesting (and perhaps it was to make up for the 1 minute run-stop stand up routine he delivered).
Sansom Street Oyster House. Brunch.
We were starving. Had eaten nothing. Had downed iced espresso on the walk to brunch. We sat down and A ordered some fruit----- in the shape of a carafe. A half carafe of house white to officially start the day (major check mark). Then, one dozen Little Shemogues. He poured off the brine, I gulped the brine. Totally lovely in all ways.
A ordered smoked white fish hash with veggies and scrambled eggs. Excellent.
I ordered shrimp and grits. Delicious.
He thought his was better. I thought they were both great.
I told him how happy I was sitting there---- looking at him, eating oysters, drinking wine, pre-food.
He sure knows the way to this girl's heart.
Going to Sansom Street was such a treat that it counts for more than one place. Quota filled.
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