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You bet I believe in miracles. The delectable contents of a tin can sealed the deal.
We'd just come home from church on a chilly February afternoon with our faith tanks topped off and our bellies bleating for brunch.
Terry and I have a Sunday tradition -- omelets. We're also trying to create a newer but far more boring tradition -- healthier eating.
"We ran out of fresh peppers and onions," Terry said. She rummaged through the canned goods cupboard for backup healthy fixings. "What about this?"
She held up can of Glory Foods brand "sensibly seasoned, lower sodium" mixed greens. The label prominently featured the American Heart Association seal of approval.
"I guess so," I sighed. "Remember the days when we got to stuff our omelets with nothing but bad stuff? Those were awesomely delicious."
Terry shooed me to the fridge for the eggs while she picked up the can opener. "I know, I know. But we've reached that age in which we need to behave. Grow up. Act like adults. We have to stop eating like 6-year-olds."
I set the egg carton on the counter. "The label on the can says 'Glory.' What's so glorious about low-sodium, low-calorie, low-seasoned and probably low-taste greens?"
Moments later, when Terry pried up the lid, I knew.
She stared into the can. Wrinkled her nose. And held it out to me. "What's this look like to you?"
There was nothing green about it. The off-white thick mass looked lumpy. "Cream of mushroom soup?"
Terry sniffed. Her eyes brightened. She tapped a finger into the mystery and tasted. "It's sausage gravy!"
"Glory!" I shouted. "Scramble those eggs and we're dumping piles of sausage gravy all over them. Hey, let's chop up potatoes for home fries. Don't spare the ketchup!"
It was the most glorious Sunday brunch we'd lavished upon ourselves in ages. We ate like little kids. I even wiped gravy dribbles on my sleeve.
We called it the Miracle of the Mismarked Can.
A couple days ago, the miracle was followed by the Epiphany of Ice Cream for Breakfast.
A Fortune magazine writer last week said that billionaire Warren Buffett revealed to her his secret for living a long life: Eat like a 6-year-old.
Buffett, 84, said he starts every morning with a can of Coca-Cola, and often fried potato sticks, although that morning, it was a bowl of chocolate chip ice cream instead.
I've been lobbying for Coke and Oreos for breakfast for years, but the Voice of Logic and Reason -- my wife -- claimed it's not healthy.
It turns out that the world's most successful investor, a man purportedly blessed with internal batteries of the Energizer Bunny, drinks at least five cans of sugary carbonation a day, along with sweets and salty snacks.
"I checked the actuarial tables, and the lowest death rate is among 6-year-olds," Buffett told Fortune writer Patricia Sellers. "So I decided to eat like a 6-year-old."
I dare you to beat that logic and reason. You can't. Na-na na-na boo-boo.
Now I'm searching for the Revelation of the Recliner fitness program. I'm sure it's out there somewhere. Why not? We found sausage gravy in a can of mixed greens, didn't we?
— Send Cole your recliner fitness revelations at burtseyeview@tribtoday.com or on the Burton W. Cole page on Facebook.