Frog Pond Breakfast

The locals are always lined up for breakfast at this popular spot on Gulf Boulevard, so I was happy to finally try The Frog Pond, south of the church on the beach side of the boulevard. Sure enough, it was full and some diners had clearly come in from Ash Wednesday services.

The host was taking names but two men ahead of us invited us to sit at their large round table. Sam, exactly my age, is retired from a furniture building business, in which he still has some kind of financial stake. In fact, his son is at trade show this week at Treasure Island Casino near Red Wing. John is a retired bartender who worked for 25 years at high end casinos in Las Vegas. He mentioned the "London Club", which has many online links but I'm not sure which is the right one. They were both entertaining table mates.

The portions at The Frog Pond are generous enough to keep me going all day. My Neptune Benedict was made with fake crab meat, and it was delicious. There was a "real" Crab Benedict on the menu, but I once had a bad experience with that dish, so I was ready to try the "wannabe" crab. Bob said his omelet was great and he especially liked what seemed to be homemade jelly.

Good breakfast, terrific coffee, attentive service, excellent company.

Ash Wednesday at the Beach

We arrived at St. John Vianney 15 minutes early for 8:30 Mass -- none too soon, as it turned out.

The large senior population was joined by teachers and students of the parish school, who took up about three-quarters of the pews. They filed in, row after orderly row. The youngest kids were matched up with older ones in the front of the church, a very well behaved crew dressed in khaki and plaid, with three colors  (green, gold, navy)  of regulation polo shirt. The colors didn't seem to be "coded", as distribution among the classes looked random.

Everything moved along quite quickly, and the homilist targeted his homily to the school crowd. I love the Ash Wednesday readings and the music was penitential in theme, but musically energetic. The deacon who pressed the ashes on my forehead did so with a little restraint, and they were covered by my bangs. Bob did not fare so well. The entire center of his forehead was covered with a greasy blob of black.  We were encouraged to leave the ashes on all day, but we're now sitting on the deck, ashless and perhaps somewhat subdued. It's early yet.