Dressing is an issue for me. It is difficult to get it all together. Do my shoes match? Is my blouse on wrong side out? Somehow it all begins with laundry and I hold my washer and dryer responsible for some of my dressing mishaps. I would not have done this latest one on my own.
It happened on our family vacation to Colorado. Grandpa arranged horseback riding for everyone. The ride involved an hour or two on a trail riding up and back down a mountain–not your usual really, really, old horse walking in a circle ride. All were excited, well except Grandpa and the mothers with the youngest grandchildren. (They spent their time at a playground by a lake.)
There was no hesitation on my part about the adventure. I rode horses as a child and was confident I would have no problems. I was confident, too, my horse would be somewhat trained. He was, and I enjoyed the ride.
In fact, it was great to be back in the saddle again. I just wish the young, good-looking, wrangler who assisted me up on my horse had not seen the underwear clinging to my fresh-from-the-laundry jeans.
I finished my morning work-out at the gym, hurried to the locker room, and quickly changed. There was just enough time for a quick cup of coffee before I left for my part-time job. Coffee with my gym friends provided my incentive to actually go to the gym.
It’s hot here in Kansas during the summer and I changed into a full, circular skirt, made of some type of flimsy, light-weight material, and a blouse. I hurriedly gathered my belongings and moved out to the gathering area of the gym.
I poured my coffee and sat down at the table while my friends completed their work-outs. Brrrrr, I had not realized my skirt was so thin and flimsy. Yet, that metal folding chair seemed cold–very, very cold. I investigated and sure enough, I was somehow the victim of that old “hiked-up-skirt-in-the-waistband” scenario.
Oh yes, there is something to be said about being the first one to the table.
I vaguely remember eating at an IHOP in 1965 and again sometime in the mid-eighties. It was certainly so long ago, I couldn’t say for sure if I did or did not. Yet, I know I ate strawberry pancakes somewhere as a college student and later as a young mother.
Often over the years, I have had fond thoughts of those strawberry pancakes. In fact, several years ago I added eating at IHOP to my bucket list. (Unfortunately, my town does not have an IHOP and while my family often travels to larger cities, others in my family do not share my appreciation of pancakes.)
Recently, a group of us were on an out-of-town trip to celebrate a friend’s birthday. Even though it wasn’t my birthday, I somehow got to pick where to have lunch. With glee I chose IHOP! I It was great. I had not only strawberries, but blueberries, and bananas on my pancakes!
Somethings on the bucket list are worth repeating and the very next day I was again out of town. “Oh yes, I’ll have a short stack please–with strawberries, blueberries, and bananas.”
It was a rare, semi-cool, cloudy afternoon in the middle of a hot, Kansas summer. In my air-conditioned home, though, using my imagination, it felt like a cold, snowy afternoon. Without using my imagination, I felt hungry and it seemed a perfect time for cinnamon toast.
I placed the two slices of 45 calorie apiece bread in the toaster while I assembled the butter, cinnamon, and sugar canister. In my hunger I planned to spread a generous spoonful of sugar over the butter and finally lightly sprinkle with cinnamon.
Up popped the toasted bread and I quickly finished preparing the cinnamon toast and settled myself at the kitchen counter–ready to devote my full attention to the Andy Griffith show. Andy and Barney were having quite the time capturing three escaped women prisoners–there is no end to the number of blunders Barney makes.
Apparently there is no end to the number of blunders I can make either but I now know I should not confuse the salt canister with the sugar canister.