This is what we had for breakfast.

This morning Mom, Cecil (mom's friend and close neighbor) and I returned my super-fast Dodge Caliber rental car and then went to breakfast at IHOP. Dad loved IHOP. IF you ever asked him where he wanted to eat, he would always say "IHOP", and then make funny quips, grunts, and cliché comments expressing his love for their breakfasts. His love for IHOP stems from his younger years, and I know this because he shared these experiences with us each time we went out to eat at IHOP. It was great because each time we got a different story, a different experience. Dad was the oldest of 5. His siblings were: Dorothy, Wayne, Johnny, and Michael. Every Sunday Grandpa (aka: "Chief") and Grandpa would take the kids out for breakfast/brunch AFTER church. The deal was that if you went to church then you got a big breakfast. And whomever they brought were included in the bunch. I can only imagine the Disanza CLAN taking over a local diner or restaurant. Surely it was loud, significantly irreverent, and I am sure there was a LOT of food. I know Dad had such fond memories of these Sunday gatherings because he talked about it so much. He even talked about how he would drive all the way from college on Sunday mornings, with a girl by his side (hopefully my mom) and sneak in at the end of mass so they could join the group for breakfast. He loved getting together with the family. He loved his parents and brothers and sisters. It was a very diverse group, and they were all somehow related to or good friends of a DISANZA. Anyone who knew anything about the family knew that The Chief buys breakfast after church. And so here we were today, at IHOP, chowing down on Dad's favorite grub. I inhaled the strawberry stuffed french toast.

I swear they must put crack in it...because it is highly addictive!