Pounds of pancakes and red umbrellas

Well, the rain is back in Vancouver. It’s a little needy and never leaves us for long.

I went for breakfast/lunch (what do you call it when you eat breakfast past lunch time? Brunch seems to imply it’s before lunch time. Post-lunch brunch?) at a place called Jethro’s today. It’s at Dunbar and 18th, so it was a bit of a trek, but thankfully my girlfriend and I have infinite patience for good food (we once waited two hours to eat at a place in San Francisco – we’re those people). It’s this tiny little restaurant that only serves breakfast and lunch, and seemed to have a line-up the entire time we were there.

I tried the Rooster pancakes, which had chocolate chip and espresso, and we got a Denver omelette, which had ham, onions and cheese. We messed up a little – we intended to get the South of Denver, which had pulled pork, but it’s okay – it’s an excuse to go back next time (like I need one). The food was great, but the thing that got me was that the pancakes were honestly the biggest things I’ve ever seen. They were the size of small UFOs. I swear, they could’ve fed four people – they were ridiculous.

Between my girlfriend and I, we managed to finish most of the omelette and 3/4 of one pancake. I swear I had at least a pound of pancake left over when I came home, which I promptly fed to my hungry little sister and friend. I had to waddle a bit coming home…

Definition of a food coma

Next time I want to try their pancake with bacon baked in – it sounds like the most delicious heart attack ever.

I also conducted Operation See-If-New-Boots-Will-Destroy-My-Feet: I bought these gorgeous constructions of over the knee grey leather and chunky heels in Seattle, and I am kind of in love with them. I don’t normally wear heeled boots though so I had to test if wearing them meant I would be hobbling for days, but all systems were a go! I love when that happens. They were so beautiful, I figured they deserved some photographic love, so I took a few pictures in the rain with my sister and my beat up red umbrella.

If any boots were marriage material, it’s these ones.