“How are the eggs here?”

I surprised my sister last Friday at Cracker Barrel. You’re probably wondering: what is the significance of this post? Well, the restaurant in mention was in Phoenix. Yes, I hopped aboard the Frontier express and took a vacation to my former (short-term) residence. My sister had no idea I was coming as my family is headed there over Easter weekend. It took a tedious covert operation (good thing I know the area) between my other (Pitt) sister calling The AZ Barrel/mapping directions while I’m en route from the airport. I had my Phx Sis convinced I was on a long lunch break driving around in my car in Cleveland. I had even sent a card last week apologizing for not being able to make the trip (I didn’t even plan that — I really thought I wouldn’t be able to make it).

So, after they’re seated, ordered, and eat-ed, I walked up to the table and asked how the eggs were. Took her a second to recognize which was classic.

Needless to say, there’s a lot to say about my weekend… it’s coming.

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