As I woke from a very well rested night, thoughts of breakfast entered my horizons at a very early time. The English Muffins sat in the corner next to the Sweet Sixteen Powdered Donuts. To my right, sat the candy jar: leftovers from Halloween, Christmas and birthdays all combined to make an unusual looking display to say the least. That got me thinking: SCONES! In a world so full-filling as mine, a scone is a wonderful piece of work. A mixture of flour, butter and milk and the flavorings of your glorious past all rolled into one English biscuit that somehow has been shipped to America and prepackaged by your favorite coffee shop. I THINK NOT! A scone is a work of art that few Americans get right. The lay of the land, the pebbles in the road and the pubs in the village. Biscuits are the Americanized versions of scones: BORING! We silly Americans think that grass is green. We also believe that coffee is supreme. When ships sailed years ago to a new found land, there was no Oregon Trail. There was land, but paths had to be cleared. Tea was King! The British recognized that America needed freedom, so taxes made their way into our lives. And with that tax, creativity leveled the playing field! Rules were broken, mountains were climbed and tea was dumped. Sugar became a polished art form and chocolate became sweet. Little by little, things changed for the better. The tides saw new ships and progress became an institution. Scones are still British; and they always will be. So remember, floured hands need a soft touch and butter should always be cold. My life at times is simple: American British. Or, should I say British American. Either or both: does it really matter? My bet is on the scone! Flaky! Buttery! Give me some dark chocolate and dark rum! A pirate's life for me!