Just Right for Your Apple-tite*

Yesterday morning, June once again brought us breakfast in bed. It consisted of:

• English muffins, with a small dollop of what I took to be honey in the center, otherwise unadorned.
• Two crystal champagne flutes full of applejack brandy.**
  

Now I like a good drink, but even I consider six-or-so ounces of undiluted booze to be a bit much for first thing in the morning. (What must she think of us?) But as always, the presentation was lovely.

* Oh, wait, that's a different, more breakfast appropriate sort of apple jack.

** She carried this all the way upstairs on a tray, mercifully not spilling a drop—or more importantly, shattering our fancy flutes into a million foot-lacerating little shards. It was with regret that I suggested a breakfast-in-bed hiatus.