I drove home from Seatac airport Tuesday evening. It was fricken hot — 80 degrees and moist and I was creeping down I5 at a variable 25 – 35 miles per hour.
I crept down the freeway, surface temperature somewhere near 90, with the head radiating off the pavement and the cars all around, talking to Roxy on the phone, doing our best to ease our transition from together to regular life. Finally I had to say goodbye for a while, so I could open the windows and attempt a cool down. Even though I’d eaten on the flight (courtesy an upgrade to first class), I was suddenly starving and the cravings I was having were centered around breakfast. Specifically, I wanted a stack of pancakes from IHOP. A stack of pancakes, fruit and whipped cream. A stack of pancakes with fruit and whipped cream and a side of bacon. A stack of pancakes with fruit and whipped cream, a side of bacon, some syrup and a tall glass of cold milk.
The alternatives were unappealing. I didn’t want to go home and cook and I didn’t really want to heat up a chicken pot pie or prepare food in any way. I was tired, emotionally and physically out of steam and craving a pile of carbohydrates. I wanted comfort food, even it if meant sitting in a booth in a nearly empty restaurant, listening to the inane conversation of three teen-aged girls. Why IHOP? I wanted pancake choices, I wanted pancake expertise and it’s one of my daughter’s favorite places to eat. I anticipated her envy and approval when she found out I’d treated myself to an IHOP dinner.
I ate half the stack before stopping and having it boxed up. By this time I was really tired and needed to strip down and stretch out. That would wait another half hour while I hit Costco and the grocery store for some much needed supplies. When I did arrive home, I was nearly delirious. The house was cool and quiet and empty, my family not due home until around 11 pm. I had about 4 hours to chill out, nap, watch World Cup soccer, webcam with Roxy and pound down the rest of my pancake stack.
Roxy watched me sleep, the cats came to visit, and I woke feeling much better.
Baby, I miss you, I love you and no amount of pancakes with whipped cream can replace the feeling of belonging I have when I’m with you. Thank you for a wonderful, memorable, amazing weekend.
Happy HNT, y’all
To see all the other HNT posts for the day, go to Views from the Back Row, from whence the HNT goodness has come.
This content is published under the Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported license.