Old Fashioned Buttermilk Pancakes

I had a nightmare.
I was walking on a long isolated sidewalk, in front of the coastline that was lined with tall Elizabethan buildings. My pace was quick, urgent. I was looking for something, or someone.

I stopped in front of a whitewashed 4 story judicial building and walked in. As I stood in the foyer, I noticed the ceilings were ridiculously high, at least 60 ft. People were clamoring from here to there, none of them paying me any attention as they flew by or knocked me to the side.

I turned to compose myself, and noticed that the walls were lined with enormous bookshelves. But, the shelves weren’t lined with books; they were filled with young men, stylish and very foreboding. Almost sinister. They looked as if they were watching a football game. But they weren’t. They were watching me.

Scared I stepped forward to this jury of men, who were staring intently on me. Maybe they were a counsel, here to determine my fate. I looked up, but only for a few seconds. I tried to make eye contact, but just momentarily.

I wanted them to know, particularly the one dressed in white, that I was weak and timid and wouldn’t try anything funny.

The leader smiled at me, but it didn’t put me at ease. He asked me what I wanted, while the two men seated to his left and right stared at me hungrily. I opened my mouth to speak, but only a small voice pushed forward and I said, “I’m here to buy a watch.”

They all laughed at me mockingly, and told me the price was $79.99. I thumbed through my purse trying to find my money so that I could leave, but it was so difficult because suddenly the depths of my purse had turned into a sieve, making everything just out of reach. Somehow I managed to grab a 50 dollar bill, and when the man handed me the watch I noticed that is was 1.) A knock off and 2.) Put together rather shakily. And despite my most desperate inner voice telling me to get the hell out of there, I seemed to stutter, “I can’t pay that for this cheap watch.”

The voice in my head starts screaming now. RUN! RUN! RUN! But I can’t. I won’t. I just look at them saying with my eyes, I won’t do anything silly. But I’m not stupid, and I won’t be made to grovel. Do what you will, but this is wrong, and I won’t succumb.

The leader contorts his face wickedly, and then softens, and whispers, “Give it to her.” I hand them the $50, turn around and walk back slowly to the street. When I reach the sidewalk I realize that the danger of these men is gone, but now something worse is at my heels. I’m lost. I don’t know where I am, or where I’m going, and I haven’t any money.

I frantically walk the streets looking for someone I know, until I find my friend Edily. She’s happy to see me, and we walk for a while, and I think it’ll be okay because she’ll see that I get home. And just as we decide to head home, she realizes she is not responsible for me. That she must go, and find her own family. She smiles at me sweetly, and then she’s gone. And I’m alone.

I’m scared. I don’t know what to do. I panic.

I start flailing around, frantically trying to determine my place in the world. I’m lost. What am I supposed to be doing? Who do I belong to? Who belongs to me?

And then as I’m tossing and turning, my fist wakes me up with a soft thud, on the chest of Mr. Woo, who’s still sleeping and completely unaware.

I’m still in a daze. Not knowing what is going on. My heart is racing, I’m still frightened, but I realize if he’s here, then I’m not lost. I belong with him. He belongs with me.

It’ll be okay.

But then the real nightmare hits. What if he weren’t here?
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

I know. That was super depressing. Sorry. I never know where my mind is going to take me. Ick.

I’m just going to try and push that out of my head, and fill it will something lovely instead.

Like how grateful I am that HE is here.

And that YOU are here.

And that it’s almost Thanksgiving, and we all belong. We all belong together.

And for that I am grateful.

Now, I’m gonna eat. Because that’s what I always do to make myself feel better. Especially when I’m on a “diet”, and it’s two weeks before Thanksgiving.

Something simple.
Something buttery.
Something light, fluffy, and utterly divine.

Nothing says “Who care’s that I’m lost and I just paid $50 dollars for a sucky watch” like Old Fashioned Buttermilk Pancakes.

You know I’m right.

Old Fashioned Buttermilk Pancakes


2 ½ cups all purpose flour
2 TB sugar
2 tsp. baking powder
½ tsp. baking soda
¼ tsp. salt
2 eggs, beaten
1 cup buttermilk or sour milk (1 cup milk with 1 TB lemon juice)
Cooking oil


1. Combine dry ingredients. Mix well. Add eggs and buttermilk. Stir until moistened and some of the lumps are removed. Do not over mix, the batter will be lumpy.

2. Onto a lightly greased medium-hot skillet pour batter. Cook until the pancakes are bubbly and the edges begin to turn dry. Flip and cook for about one minute longer or until golden brown. Serve warm with syrup and butter.

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