I work six days a week, so I don't ever get the chance to go on lunch dates with my dad. I mentioned this to him, so we decided to have breakfast together. We left the house before 7am so we could be among the first to arrive at Original Pancake House. I had to be at work by 8, but we still had a leisurely breakfast.
My poor father. No dad ever wants their daughter to move, and especially not to Chicago. This afternoon he called me into the living room to hear the Nightly News talk about how there were 12 murders, 85 injuries in Chicago this weekend. He's an urban missionary, though, so I think he understands. We confirmed that there is an OPH in Chicago (like, four, actually) so we have that to look forward to.
So, dad, when are we going to have breakfast next?
- rl
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