The Danger of Pancakes

I love pancakes. My kids love pancakes. Sometimes I make them shaped like animals because my girls think it’s the greatest thing in the world. Sometimes I make pancakes for dinner.

The only problem with pancakes is that pancakes involve maple syrup. And maple syrup involves stickiness. Even as an adult, I cannot manage to get through a pancake meal without being plagued by stickiness. I try hard to contain the syrup and its stickiness properties to the end of my fork, but without fail, it will work its way up to my fingers. From my fingers, it will then travel to forearms, face, shirt, the table top, and even the dogs head.

My young girls fare even worse. By the time they have finished their animal shaped pancakes, their sticky hands and faces have collected pancake crumbs, lint, dog and cat hair, small pieces of napkin, and whatever else happens to be a floating around. They end up looking like a mop just before you rinse all the crud out of it. And heaven forbid the syrup gets stuck in their hair.

If one is not careful, the stickiness can spread from my daughters to the table, chairs, pets, door knobs, toys, and nearly every other surface in the entire house. On pancake day, it is not uncommon for one of our cats to be seen running around the house with a sticky pancake fork stuck to its back, and leaving sticky pancake crumb paw prints.

I’ve often thought that a man could get rich if he invented syrup that wasn’t sticky. But until someone does, a next best remedy might be to make young children eat pancakes naked in the bathtub. That way as soon as they are finished, you can just turn on the shower and wash all the stickiness away.

……

If you enjoyed this story, there are a whole book of them on Amazon here:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01BNRBM5A

Or download it for free here;

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/764903

And the war rages on.

So my war on restaurant condiment crimes rages on. . . . Arby’s lady, not only could you not keep the Buffalo sauce contained within the confines of the bun of the Buffalo Chicken sandwich, but you somehow managed to get it all over the outside of the bag you put it in.

WORSE YET . . . I know that after you handed me the bag containing my grossly over-sauced sandwich, you most likely reached immediately for a napkin to wipe the sauce off of your hands that came from handling the saucy bag. . . . I would think this might be a prompt for you to think about the poor slob who has to eat this aberration of a sandwich in his truck. . . HE MIGHT WANT A NAPKIN TOO! MAYBE A DOZEN!

Gluten saved my Marriage.

For some mysterious reason, I have successfully fooled the kind folks over at Sweatpants and Coffee into thinking I’m a real writer. I’ve somehow become a bit of a regular. Here is my latest creation that they have posted . . . . (If you go check it out, don’t let on that I’m only a pretend writer).

Gluten Save My Marriage

 

Sweatpants & Humor | Gluten Saved My Marriage

I Remember 9/11.

I remember exactly where I was. I remember who it was that first told me. I remember the images on the television. I remember the disbelief, the confusion, the horror and the anger.

I remember those who lost their lives in the attacks. I remember those who lost their lives trying to save lives. I think of those who lost a husband, lost a wife, a mom, a dad, a child, a family member, a friend.

I didn’t realize it on that day, but looking back, I remember a day when we weren’t from different cities or states. We weren’t black or white. We weren’t Right or Left. We weren’t rich or poor. . . . .  

We were victims.

We were heroes.

We were people who cared.

We were people who grieved.

We were fierce in spirit.

We were United in thought.

We were simply American.

I remember 9/11.

Rules for keeping my phone out of the toilet.

There are three rules for keeping my phone out of the toilet. I only need to use one of them.

1. Stop using the toilet.

2. Stop wearing hoodies.

3. Stop putting my phone in my hoodie pocket when going to the bathroom.

I tried rule number one and only made it for half a day. Number two is out of the question because hoodies are my thing. And I keep forgetting to observe rule three. . . . Luckily, this time my phone fell outside the bowl instead of in after bouncing around the rim.

I am not a Sports fan, and I’m not going to be silent about it any longer.

Sweatpants and Coffee has posted another of my stories. It’s about the alleged un-manliness of not being a big fan of sports. Give it a look and a like!

Personal Essays | Sports Shaming

Six Million Dollar Man.

I made my living as a tree trimmer and tower climber for over twenty years. I loved every minute of it. Unfortunately, this career choice has a bad effect on your body over the long term. 

I have had three surgeries on my right shoulder, one surgery on left shoulder, and just last week I had surgery on my worn out neck vertebrae.

I don’t mind surgery all that much. I’ve had enough of it over the last five or so years that it doesn’t seem any more inconvenient than mowing the lawn or painting the living room. 

In some ways, it might even be better than doing those things. I get to lay on the couch for weeks without anyone bothering me or making me feel guilty about not accomplishing anything.

I also get to engage in legal recreational drug use for a few weeks. The pain pills I was given after this last round of surgery were especially potent. They send me off into a blissful slumber while the penguins and unicorns, that magically appear, sing lullabies to me.

One of the biggest down sides to surgery is the stoppage of the digestive system that occurs from the anesthesia. You are constantly asked, “did you poop yet?”

It was three days after this last surgery that I finally did poop. But in those three days, my bowels must have been something like a car pile up on an icy freeway. 

When it did finally decide to move. . . . Oh boy . . . . I have now experienced child birth. For a minute there while I was in labor, I even googled whether or not they perform C-sections on bowel movements that had been piling up for three days.

I have a healthy new respect for mothers.

I am still writing stuff.

I am still writing from time to time, but I thought it greedy of me to hoard my sure-to-be-classic-literature all to myself . . . . actually I’m tickled to death that my nonsense has been chosen for posting by a big blog.

I am fortunate enough to have one of my stories accepted by Sweatpants and Coffee.

Personal Essays | Letting Out the Novel Within

This is a story about finally writing the novel we all have inside.