Would it be okay if I told you some not particularly interesting stories about pancakes?
I can't hear you in here so...
Forget I asked.
Once a co-worker named Bob, who was slightly deranged, and featured in this blog briefly as the co-host of a chat show called "Bob and Bunny", asked me for pancakes. I was running the In Service Day for my library system. Requesting pancakes was completely unreasonable and very Bob-like. I arranged for griddles to be brought in and for pancakes to be made at In Service Day in the morning. Did Bob thank me?
Visionaries who try to compel the world to be more like they think it should be don't say thank you when by weird chance and effort it happens. Look at me, do I thank you for reading this?
Thank you for reading this.
I have eaten pancakes. For breakfast. In restaurants. That sort of thing. And sometimes it seemed like a good idea. Sometimes it just seemed like the best option in the situation. Sometimes they were good. But I can't really say that I ever quite got the point of pancakes.
Until one day I had some not very good blueberries that were getting on in years. I decided to make a sauce of them. The sauce came out well. But now that I had it what was I supposed to do with blueberry sauce? So I got Whole Grain Mills Ancient Grains Pancake Mix. And egg. And I have milk because one needs milk to make cappuccinos, and to make pancakes, it turns out. And there was butter, plenty of butter.
So I made pancakes.
Freely and of my own volition!
This was a couple weeks ago.
I kept making pancakes. The blueberry sauce is long gone.
I can't stop making pancakes.
I can't stop thinking about pancakes.
Tomorrow I am going to have pancakes for breakfast.
Who would have thought?
Now that I get the point I would like to thank the pancakes.
Thank you pancakes.