Saturday, May 19, 2012


i have to go to a pancake breakfast this morning.

there are two things wrong with this.

1. if given the choice of a firing squad at dawn complete with blindfold and my first and last cigarette OR to be clumped in a large group of strangers milling about all doing the same exact thing i'd really be hard pressed not to ask for a minute to decide.

2. i don't like pancakes. at all.

i wish i was more like my little sister and the goddess mother who like these sorts of community minded events. at least, they tolerate them. it seems like a good thing to be able to do that. be amongst the people. you know, hanging with humanity. but. i don't. i'm more like my father. who would have rather crawled under his truck and covered himself with a blue tarp and sleep than do stuff that falls under the category of 'pancake breakfast.'

whenever i have to do something like say oh a pancake breakfast or board an airplane and i'm in some advancing line of shufflers and i'm just thinking what is this? where am i? this is not my glamorous life. there's like this rising hum of desperation and anxiety amongst the gathered. will i get on the plane WITH my bag? will i get my window seat? will there be any pancakes left? what about my slab of sad ham? is there still one left for me? why is this guy on my right seem like he's trying to ooch in in front of me. the collective neuroses builds and then BAM! suddenly it's all too much. like a huge crowd of woody allens on his worst day. and i'm one of them.

no thanks.

my grandmother used to have a sourdough starter. from this she made pancakes. big thick fluffy huge pancakes. every weekend i was there she'd make these pancakes. my grandmother, bless her heart i loved that woman, was not what one would call a 'good' cook. everything looked all right, but it would always just be a bit 'off.' chewy tough beef, undercooked chicken, and cookies frozen solid. 'just give them a minute.' it was summer, she had frozen the christmas cookies. they were never defrosted when she served them. those cookies needed a hell of a lot more than a 'minute.'

so she'd make the pancakes and they were never done in the middle. big and thick and never done in the middle. and she never let me fix my own plate. she just set it in front of me. i was a thin child prone to stomach aches and nervousness. kind of like a small hairless dog who has to wear sweaters in the summer. and here's a huge ass plate of thick underdone sourdough pancakes. and if i didn't eat everything set in front of me she'd be upset which would upset my father and let's just say it was easier to choke down the pancakes.

now. lest you think i'm some kind butt head who can't get over things well you'd be wrong. but that was so long ago, you say. can't you give it another chance, you ask.

i give plenty of things another chance! first kiss (he was cute, sweet, funny, but it was awkward of course AND he wore braces) did i walk away from that saying well, that's never gonna happen again. NO! i was like, huh, yeah, i'll try that again! first time having sex (don't ask) huh, yeah, i'll try that again! first beer (hamm's light. warm and flat from a can.) huh, yeah, i'll try that again!

me. rising to the occasion.


okay all right those *may* be unfair examples BUT it serves to illustrate that i don't just always hold fast to hard first beliefs.

pancakes are just wrong. i mean devoid of nutrition and covered in butter and is that breakfast unless you're an elf? i know i know there are healthier pancakes. but they don't fit in my rant so i'm not going to include them.

and i've been out with people who order them as a side at breakfast. that's like ordering a steak and saying, 'oh, and i'll have a side of ribs with that.' okay, maybe not. but how can a breakfast entree that shouldn't be a breakfast entree get to ALSO be a side. i ask you.


isn't there always one

i love my kids and this is a fundraiser and they love pancakes and i INVITED FRIENDS (moral support. they can have mine.) so i will go like i did before and be happy just to be with friends and my little family. and i'll eat one.stinkin.pancake. and i will do so with a smile on my face. because my kids think it's terrifically fabulous when i do. for them it's like spotting a rainbow. or spotting crappy cereal on sale i'll let them have 'just this once.'

and if you invite me over to your house and you're serving pancakes i will eat them. because i'm not allergic and i'm not an ass and if you made them for me i will happily indulge. because i like you. and you were kind enough to invite me over. obviously not a reader of the blog...but that's okay, too. sometimes ignorance is bliss.

oh and by the way, if you come over here? i make AWESOME pancakes. and i even warm the real maple syrup and make sure the butter is nice and soft.

because i like you, too.

so there.


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